Severus Snape and Vesperra D'Monicas
by SevLovesLily
Summary: The goal of this story is to completely rewrite the series from Snape's point of view- But I refuse to believe he never had another friend besides Lily Evans. Vesperra's everything he needs in a friend, and Severus is everything she needs. -ABANDONED FIC-
1. Book 1: Chapter 1

**_This is a Snape story, where he meets a student at Hogwarts the same year Harry enters the school, but Harry isn't a big part of it. This student changes his life and his attitude during the years that he teaches, and becomes one of the main things that keeps him strong and willing to protect Harry for Lily's sake. In a way, it is a Snape/Lily story, but only as background._**

**_You'll notice that I write in 3rd person Limited, in which I can only see from Snape's and Vesperra's points of veiw, and I switch back and forth. I'll write a scene from Vesperra's perspective, then write the same scene from what Snape hears/sees. And then, when they're in close proximity, you can see both at the same time._**

**_Please reveiw; this is a story that I've had bouncing around in my head for a while and formed a whole story behind it. So either way, I am going to continue this whether I get good reveiws or not, but I'd still love to hear what other people think of it!_**

It was the first day of a new year at Hogwarts. For most, that meant the beginning of a wonderful year, new opportunities, and above all, celebration. But for Severus Snape, that only meant he had to endure another year of tolerating brats that seemed as if their only purpose was to trigger his migraine.

However, this year, there was a new student that he had been waiting for ever since he was first employed at Hogwarts. Harry Potter. The boy who lived… more like the boy whose existence was caused by something in the past that he couldn't bear to think of…

Either way, on Dumbledore's orders, he had to teach him, and protect him. But he hated him. He hated Harry Potter so very much… it was really his father he hated, though. It wasn't his fault he was born. But oh, how he HATED the fact that Harry was born. It was a reminder of what could have happened, but tragically didn't.

Then again, part of him loved Harry Potter. Loved him like a son… or maybe just as a part of the woman he would never cease to love. He could, in fact, have been his son… and he would have forced himself to believe it if he didn't look exactly like James Potter. But he had Lily's eyes…

Snape forced himself to look away from Harry then, and mentally slapped himself. Now he hated Harry again for bringing up all these memories… He took a hard swallow and composed himself to look as perturbed as ever. Avoiding eye contact with Potter, he scanned the Slytherin table for the faces of the new first-years.

He recognized Draco Malfoy, the son of his good friend, Lucius Malfoy. He looked just like his father, with his bleach blonde hair slicked back in a way that just screamed, MALFOY. He seemed to be laughing and joking with two boys he remembered from the Sorting to be called Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. He was also talking to a rather snobby looking black-haired girl, Pansy Parkinson. Across from them were Millicent Bullstrode, the squared-faced witch who, Snape thought, looked rather like a boy, a girl with muddy brown hair called Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass, who had the same blonde hair as Malfoy, and what you could call… perfect features. Then there were Blaise Zabini, a tall, black child, and Theodore Nott, a young wizard with a sharp face and light brown hair, stuffing their faces with food and talking at the same time, chunks of turkey and pie spewing from their mouths.

But in all honesty, Snape wasn't interested in any of them right that second, because one student caught his eye. There was a short girl at the very end of the Slytherin table, who had greasy-looking hair that was dirty blonde with a slight reddish tint. She had a slightly downturned, convex nose that almost went too well with her downtrodden, yet serious expression. Her eyes were bluish green- or gray, he couldn't tell. It seemed as if she were making no effort in any sort of facial expression, but that she would never show any particular emotion because her face was already set to do it for her. Despite this, she looked beautiful.

Vesperra D'Monicas was her name. She ate alone, slowly and without speaking to anyone else, or even acknowledging their presence. It seemed that she was probably anxious- for the feast to end so she could go to her dorm and be alone. Snape was somewhat intrigued by this girl… but also glad, that out of all the jubilant, happy students he hated out of jealousy, he could at least have one person to respect.

* * *

Vesperra spooned food into her mouth without paying any attention to what it was. It didn't really matter to her… she had hardly gotten a decent meal in the past couple years, what with her parents constantly yelling at each other, and some nights, refusing to take a break to prepare dinner for their daughter. Even when they did, they continued fighting without sitting down to eat themselves, and then Vesperra couldn't bring herself to eat much.

With her left hand, she started absentmindedly running her fingers through her hair. It felt greasy, especially at the roots, as usual. It wasn't why one would think so- she _did_ take showers. Although, it wasn't very often, because she tried to stay in her room as much as possible, without disturbing her parents' latest argument. Either way, due to her genetics, Vesperra was born with excessively greasy hair.

"A brush would be useful, you know." said a snide, high-pitched voice from her left. "When's the last time you've even used one?" That gained a medley of snickers from the boys behind her, and a loud guffaw from Blaise, who almost choked on his pudding.

Rather than jerking her head around, Vesperra merely tilted her head and glanced at the source of the comment through her peripheral vision, and saw that it was Pansy Parkinson, one of the girls that teased her since early childhood. She suddenly became tense, her shoulders rising and upper lip curling a bit, but forced herself to relax and ignored that Pansy had said anything.

Without warning, Pansy grabbed and felt some of Vesperra's hair, causing her to stiffen irritably and angrily, but she didn't dare to look in her direction.

"Eww!" Pansy squealed half-jokingly as continued feeling her fingers through Vesperra's hair, and the rest of the first-year Slytherins suddenly put on a face of mock-disgust. "I didn't think even you could be that greasy… What, do you not take showers at all anymore?"

"So what shall we call her, then?" Goyle chimed in. "Grease-perra, maybe?" That section of the table erupted with laughter. Obviously it wasn't even that funny, but they knew the more they laughed, the more upset Vesperra would get.

"Well look at that, even you're name's greasy! You're just a greasy little half-blood slug, aren't you?" And the table laughed again. Vesperra recognized that voice as Draco Malfoy, whose blood was pure as his hair was blonde, and the same with his attitude about anyone non-pureblood.

Anger welled up inside Vesperra like it often did, as she tended to be choleric… all the time. Since she had grown up being used to having to contain her anger and not being able to do anything about it, rather than retaliate with another insult, she gripped the edges of the table harder, gritted her teeth, gazed only downward at her plate, and attempted to even her breathing.

Her temples only grew hotter with seething anger and hatred as she continued sitting there, stiff, for what seemed like ages. In an attempt to calm down, she unfurrowed her brow and closed her eyes, but could not stop the single, boiling tear running down her nose and into her food. More tears, possibly an entire flood full, threatened to spill out of her eyes, but before any could, the girl known as Tracey burst out laughing.

"Blimey, are you crying?" she nearly yelled. "Are you actually crying? HA!" The others joined in laughter once more, this time harder as if this was the most hilarious thing they've ever seen.

"Oh this is just too _hilarious_!" Blaise chortled. "Seems like Dispair-a's a better fitting name now, eh? Since she's so depressed all the time…"

"Yes," Draco started, "You're just so disturbed, aren't you? Well I see why, I mean… you have a Muggle for a dad…"

Draco continued speaking ill of her family, but Vesperra didn't even hear it anymore. He had crossed the line now… Fury consumed her, Vesperra couldn't control her hatred and she didn't want to anyway. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the knife from her plate and flung it like a javelin towards Draco.

"SHUT UP!" Vesperra bellowed as angrily and loudly as her particularly small vocal cords would allow her to as the knife flew to Draco's side of the table. It had flown directly at him, and had it hit him, it would have pierced his eye and he would be dead. Luckily for him, but not for Vesperra's sanity, Draco guessed immediately what she was about to do the moment she reached for her dinner utensils. He ducked and at the same time, pulled Crabbe across him by the arm as a shield.

Vesperra would not have minded, but it didn't hit him either. Floating about an inch from Crabbe's round, pink, and now horror-struck face was the knife, suspended in mid-air. Them having not taken any classes yet, Vesperra knew none of the other first years at the table could have done it, but perhaps a second or third year from down the Slytherin table could have done it? Meanwhile, the entire Great Hall was now silent and staring at them, well, her, in confusion, maybe some curiosity, but definitely horror.

She was sure they had all seen her throw the knife, or at least it became obvious with it hovering in front of Crabbe's face and Vesperra still in a stance with her torso lurching over the table and her arms placed in a way that made it obvious she was the one that had thrown it. Still, she desperately wondered who had stopped it.

Rather than at her, everyone now seemed to be staring a ways behind her, and then it became obvious who stopped Vesperra's spontaneous attack. Hesitantly and almost fearfully, she turned around to reveal Professor Snape striding towards her, stone-faced and wand in hand.

* * *

Snape continued to keep his eyes on the girl, but ate all the while, as to not seem suspicious. He knew Dumbledore was expecting him to keep an eye on Harry, but he didn't care.

Too his surprise, that Parkinson girl suddenly turned towards Vesperra and said something he couldn't hear. Thinking quickly, he took out his wand, carefully aimed it at the table all the first year Slytherins were sitting at, and muttered, "_Sonorego_." It was a spell he created himself as a sixth year in Hogwarts that would allow someone, or a group of people, become louder only to him.

Now, each of them was giggling maniacally, at Vesperra, he assumed, because she looked angry. Then, Parkinson reached over to put her fingers in Vesperra's hair. This made him inhumanly angry, and also shocked… For immediately after, Pansy screamed in disgust and joined the rest in laughing. Oh, how he recognized the way the students joined in unison to mock one, outcast little Slytherin with hopelessly greasy hair.

"I didn't think even you could be that greasy… What, do you not take showers at all anymore?" the Parkinson girl said in a horribly familiar voice.

If Snape had been chewing at that second, he would have choked, for at those words, he had an intake of breath so fast, his throat burned. Though she was a child, and a Slytherin to boot, he had a sudden urge to curse Pansy… just like he did in his school years. But he didn't. He swallowed as hard as he could and narrowed his eyes at the table.

The fat one known as Goyle hurried to swallow his food, and without even finishing so, he splurted out, "So what shall we call her, then? Grease-perra, maybe?"

As the children continued another laughing session while Vesperra sat in silence, not moving a muscle, memories flooded through him… of all the names he'd been called.

_At least it's not Snivellus… _he thought. What was worse? Nothing… except for other forms of it. That nickname had tortured him all through his school days… and he hated it. But then, there was one name he hadn't been called in 16 years… and he would have given anything to hear it again… _Sev_.

Whatever. Who said words could never hurt you? He knew from experience that they can, and will. And even long after they're spoken, they haunt you and scare you into making dire mistakes.

Then again, he had been hurt physically almost as much he had been mentally. It was worse, and at that second he realized that those who love to hurt others will always thirst for more… and might get a little out of control.

In case any of those little brats already knew some magic (he was sure Draco would) and intended to use it on Vesperra, he kept his wand out and at the ready.

"Well look at that, even you're name's greasy! You're just a greasy little half-blood slug, aren't you?" Draco hissed with a scowl as he rose, putting on an evil smile and gaining applause-like laughter afterward.

He could see Vesperra visibly stiffen, as he was, himself, but still not fight back or even turn her head their way. _Fight back!_ He urged her in his head. _Don't just sit there and hate them, do something about it! Or you'll regret it…_ Snape wasn't sure whether he was thinking to her, or himself.

Each of those words stung like a knife being jabbed into your arm… and he knew that feeling. Greasy. Half-Blood. Slug. He'd heard them all, multiple times… and after a while, they became more like a dull blow than a stab. But enough dull blows can leave you unconscious… he knew that from experience, too. This time, however, they stung worse than they had for twenty years… because this time, they were directed to someone else.

They were for someone small, defenseless, and made hateful by a traumatized past. And he knew how it felt… In fact, they _were_ directed to him- a younger him. His first year self… and still the same all throughout school. That _was_ him… he was the one who was defenseless, and hateful… and was the little greasy-haired Slytherin.

And more than ever had he felt so connected to someone… and he hadn't even met her yet. She was a Half-Blood, she had greasy hair, she had a large nose… _Snivellus…_

But with her composure and profound display of self-control, he was sure she would never cry, at least not in public…

But he thought too soon… Vesperra had relaxed her tense muscles during the cruel laughter, but still ceased to move. As what seemed like an attempt to shut it all out, she closed her eyes and tilted her head further down.

While Snape was too far away to see whether she was even tearing up, he almost immediately heard Tracey snort and yell, "Blimey, are you crying? Are you actually crying? HA!"

It didn't seem to him that she was; her face looked dry… except now that she mentioned it, he could barely make out a single tear flow over her perfect eyelashes and down the bridge of her nose until it fell off of the tip, into oblivion. However, he didn't respect her any less. He'd be hypocritical if he did...

When he was that age, he'd sit in a corner in fetal position and just cry every night, having to watch his parents fight all the time. He'd try not to cry, but enough was enough and would break him, and the only thing that fixed him again was Lily standing up for him when he was too afraid to do so himself. Vesperra was, it seemed, a lot stronger than he was.

No more tears leaked from her, he noticed. And it seemed that for the rest of the Slytherins, it wasn't enough. They wanted her to be miserable… and someone from their own house… how could they?

In between breaths from laughing, Blaise added, "Oh this is just too _hilarious_! Seems like Dispair-a's a better fitting name now, eh? Since she's so depressed all the time…"

_Oh, that's crossed the line; kick her when she's down? Just giving yourself another reason to torture her… make it her fate…_

"Yes," Draco started, "You're just so disturbed, aren't you? Well I see why, I mean… you have a Muggle for a dad… It wouldn't be _so_ bad if your mum wasn't a blood traitor, anyway… and not a very good witch either. My father says she was loony… acted quite a bit like you…"

If it had been anyone but Draco that spoke those words, he would have been angry enough to attack… even if he _was_ only a child. He was Lucius's son… so anyone responsible for any harm done to him would have their heads sliced off before you could say Sectumsempra. Either way, he was raised to believe that… Lucius was that way, and so were all of the Malfoys before him.

He expected Vesperra to be angrier than ever, so he watched her and the others very closely, in case they were about to try something… And he was right; this was the final blow that cracked her open. In a swift movement, she picked up her posture and extended her arm towards her plate.

The thought struck Snape almost before it came to Vesperra. While her hand was on the way to grab her knife, Snape extended his own arm to reveal his wand, and only had time enough to make the mental incantation, _Desivendus!_ It took effect immediately after, a benefit of having created his own spells as a genius, and the knife stopped in its path only an inch away from Crabbe's face.

Vesperra had thrown the knife with such fury, such anger, such hatred, and now, the first two words he'd heard her say- or, well… scream, was "SHUT UP!" With these words, her eyes didn't grow much wider, but he could definitely see the fire in them… and her nostrils flared… just like he always did…

As she screamed with all her might, it echoed across the entire Great Hall, and now everyone was silent and staring at her, except for a few groups of friends that were too consumed in themselves (probably Gryffindors) to notice what had happened. Vesperra seemed to be hanging over the table, holding herself up with firm arms, hands clutching the table like phoenix talons. And she was panting; he could tell because her lower back moved slowly, up and down, but as she was the only one making any sort of noise, everyone could hear her breathing.

While Vesperra was still consumed in how angry she had become, all of the students seemed frightened, and even more so when they saw the knife floating near Crabbe. Oh, what a waste it had been! It was only to protect his friend's son! He should have known that Draco, as the selfish brat he was, would not only try to duck, but nearly willingly give a friend's life to protect himself! Snape wouldn't have cared less if Crabbe was in danger… he would've deserved it, though. All of them would have deserved it…

But he couldn't take any risks, he supposed. Draco merely peeked his head above the table, probably to see if it was safe to come out yet, what a coward… Snape stood up from his seat at the Professor's stage, and strode down the steps with his wand still in his hand. Now, everyone's eyes were on him, following him fearfully, expectantly for the Slytherins, wondering what he would do next. As he grew closer to the end of the Slytherin table, Vesperra slowly pushed herself up from the table, and pivoted her body only enough so she could look directly behind her, and saw him coming.

* * *

Neither Snape nor Vesperra changed their expressions when they made eye contact, for they were so used to concealing their feelings. What they felt exactly, however, they were not sure. Vesperra feared that she would immediately be expelled from Hogwarts, which seemed inevitable, but at the same time, didn't mind, because her first day had already been full of torment, so she knew it would only have gotten worse.

Snape was too busy thinking about Vesperra to feel anything… how she was so much like him, and yet so much like Lily…

By the time Snape reached the table, Vesperra was standing straight, facing him and merely waiting to see what would happen. Before saying anything, Snape reached over to Crabbe's side of the table and grabbed the knife out of the air, setting it back on Vesperra's plate. Crabbe, however, still seemed petrified.

"You're alive, Crabbe, get over it." Snape snapped through gritted teeth. Crabbe then shook his head and sat down properly, still sort of dazed. "Malfoy, D'Monicas, come with me." And with a quick glance at Vesperra, he turned and walked briskly away with his cape flowing behind him.

Vesperra followed as quickly as she could, which was easy for her, since she always tried to get from place to place fast in order to avoid the harsh words of other children. Most people found it difficult to keep up to Snape, because he walked fast, with no purpose keeping him back. Draco popped up from under the table after a couple seconds and ran to catch up with the other two, who were already in the corridor.

A couple minutes later, they arrived at Snape's office, and Snape stopped at the doorway to hold it open for them. When they had both walked in, he pulled it shut tight and fast and glided to the chair behind his desk in one swift motion. At the same time, he leaned over the desk and folded his hands in front of him, staring at them both intently.

Vesperra sat there, heart pounding as Professor Snape stared at her, then back at Draco, then back at her… her, mostly… She wondered why he had ordered Draco here as well. Everyone had seen her throw the knife, but what could Draco be punished for? After all, it was rumored that Snape only spoke when something was wrong, and if something was fine, he would not say a word. Unless… could Snape have seen the entire scene? That would only make sense, because since her knife didn't kill him, she was hopeful that Snape would. Could he be actually getting punished for all those things he said? She wished. But how could he have heard him? He was all the way up at the Professor's Stage…

And on that note, how did he know to stop the knife in time? The only reason Draco hadn't been killed was that he ducked as soon as her hand was on the knife. Snape would have had to been watching them for a long time…

"Miss D'Monicas, you could have very well killed Draco tonight, er… Crabbe, actually." He reprimanded in a soft, yet serious tone. "And that brings me to _you_, Draco. _You_ purposely almost took another students life to save your own."

Draco looked surprised that he was actually being punished. He, after all was the victim.

"Me?" Draco questioned in a high-pitch tone. "_I'm_ getting in trouble? I could have died! I pulled Crabbe over me on pure instinct!"

"_Don't_. Use that tone with me, Draco. I'm grateful you were smart enough to duck, but your friend is lucky to be alive. And if he wasn't, it would be _your_ fault. One week detention, Malfoy."

"I was only protecting myself!" Draco yelped desperately.

"Coward!" Snape yelled back, jumping out of his steady tone unexpectedly, eyes narrowing and becoming angrier than Vesperra figured he would be. "That's two weeks, now."

"Well why isn't SHE getting punished?" Draco gestured toward Vesperra, who was sitting, silently, trying to make sense of what was happening.

"_I'll_ deal with her after you leave. Now."

Draco plastered his arms to his sides, and stormed out as dramatically as possible. Snape exhaled when he could finally close the door on him. He walked slowly towards the front of Vesperra's chair, taking tiny, quiet steps with his arms folded behind his back. When he reached her, he looked down onto her sitting form, and straight into her face, trying to read her eyes. Nothing.

"Miss… D'Monicas," he started slowly and quietly, "I hope you realize that what you almost did today is very serious. While I agree Draco would have deserved it… you have to control your anger. We can't have a student die every time someone decides to torment you."

Vesperra was thoroughly confused. While Snape seemed completely serious, his tone wasn't angry at all. It was almost… understanding. And that made sense now, since he revealed that he knew about all the other Slytherins torturing her, especially Malfoy. She furrowed her brow slightly, to visibly show that she was confused. Snape saw this, and prepared to speak again. This time, he crouched down so his face was level with hers.

"I expect you won't tell anyone… I punished Draco really, for what he said, even though I didn't tell him that."

Vesperra was, in a way, touched that someone could understand this situation enough to care about her side of the story, but at the same time, needed to know…

"Professor… how do you know what they said to me?" Vesperra mumbled just barely loud enough for Snape to hear. This was the second thing she had said all day.

He knew this was coming, but he didn't want Vesperra to know that he was paying attention to only her for most of the feast… because knowing that would lead to more curiosity, and there was no way he would speak aloud of anything more in-depth than that. He furrowed his brow as well, but more in a sentimental or reminiscing way than confused.

"Never mind how I know. Just… be careful. We should leave now, and get back to the feast… Dumbledore should be making his Start-of-Year speech any second now…" he added quickly.

As Vesperra stood up to walk out into the corridor, Snape shuffled quickly around her to stand by the door and wait for her to exit so he could close and lock it.

He suddenly wondered if there would be talk about him not punishing Vesperra, as he was the only one who had seen what actually happened, and other professors, perhaps even Dumbledore, thought her actions proved worthy of expulsion. Well, Dumbledore would understand, at least. He understood everything… otherwise Snape wouldn't be teaching at Hogwarts… He'd either be in Azkaban or dead…

Snape watched intently at Vesperra as she turned her back to him to make her way to the Great Hall. Even from the back, she seemed to walk with purpose; calm, relaxed, with everyone unable to tell what exactly was going on inside… just by the way she walked. Because he knew, from watching her, that she definitely didn't feel like she had a purpose. But she was strong… something he wasn't at her age.

Walking back to the Great Hall with Professor Snape unpunished, with only a suggestion to be careful, and not so much as a stern warning felt strange. Part of her now realized that not only had Snape overheard the tormenting session, but somehow, for some reason, he felt sorry for her. Perhaps he had endured similar taunts in his school days…

So this was Hogwarts. She had wondered about it's mysteries, dreamt about it's vastness, but the feeling she currently got from this place was nothing like she thought. She thought she was going to be free; free of her mother's screams, of her father's strained look every time she saw him, free from the torment of other children, and in a place where other children would treat her like a family, or at least leave her be. But of course, she was wrong. She _was_ sorted into Slytherin, as she and her mother expected, but finally being alike the people who've loved to torture you won't make them like you any more.

Vesperra was the one different Slytherin… Well, she wasn't _really_ different. She would consider herself cunning, as she's made it out of many sticky situations before… And then, there were a lot of things she had a mind set to do and wouldn't give up on in a million years. And she didn't care about rules, well, she did whatever was necessary, but it normally happened to be within the rules anyway. And she didn't mind dark magic so much either… _It could be pretty useful… _she thought.

But there was one thing; she was a Half-Blood. Not very many Half-Bloods made it into Slytherin, and that's one big factor that set her apart from the others and would cause her to be made fun of, she was sure of it. At least with all the people in this school that despised her and she despised back, there was at least one person she could look forward to seeing every day.

The two continued walking in silence, both overwhelmed by what this first day at Hogwarts had brought. Then, as they neared the Great Hall, where everyone had resumed talking and had probably already forgotten about Vesperra, an idle thought in Vesperra's head became vocal as she decided to stop, look up to her side at the tall Potions Master, and say in a soft, almost melodic voice that brought back memories to him, "Thank you, Professor."


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2

_**Yay, I finally finished writing the second chapter! I hope you don't mind I took so long.. I write lengthy stories. Well, more happens in this one, so it should be more exciting.**_

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* * *

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Vesperra struggled to open her eyes and dig the crust out of them as sunlight leaked in through the window of her room, which she shared with Millicent Bullstrode, luckily, because Millicent kept quiet about Vesperra when she wasn't with the rest of the gang. They avoided looking at each other, and merely acted as if the other wasn't even there.

Groggily, she flung off the sheets and sat upright on the four-poster until she felt awake enough to do anything competently. Millicent, she saw, was still asleep and snoring like a walrus. She looked at the clock, and it was 5:00._ I suppose everyone's asleep… _she thought. But that didn't matter to her; she'd always liked to get up early in the mornings so she'd have a couple hours of silence in her home besides when she wasn't even conscious.

Speaking of which, Vesperra had often struggled to remember the slightest bit of her dreams. As she pulled on her shirt, tie and robes, she thought intently on what it could have been. Nothing… no inkling of a dream came to her. In a way, she considered herself lucky. Years ago, she had nightmares every night of her parents trying to kill her, of the other children torturing her… And now, she just had a blank mind when she was unconscious.

After she was fully dressed and had brushed her hair and teeth, Vesperra noticed it was still only 5:30… an hour before breakfast. So, to pass the time, she sat down cross-legged by her bed and unfolded the schedule she had received the day before. She had Flying directly after breakfast with the Gryffindors, which she thought was a particularly bad idea… flying after eating? Someone could get sick.

Then, Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, a break, Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaws again… she cringed slightly at that one, and almost felt disappointed.

_So the Dark Arts are obviously frowned upon here… _she lamented. It just didn't make sense to her. While people would obviously want to know how to defend themselves from the Killing Curse and all that, dark magic could be used _as_ defense. Especially for her. No matter, her options still weren't limited… she just wouldn't get caught. It was especially easy to get away with things when you were a Slytherin.

Then after lunch, she had another break, Charms with the Hufflepuffs, and finally, Potions with the Gryffindors. Oh, this was just great. She had to wait until the_ end of the day _to have a class with the only other person in this school that understood her? At least it gave her something to look forward to.

* * *

It was evening, and Snape and Vesperra were the only ones left in the Potions class. They sat side by side, working on creating the Draught of the Living Dead, a very advanced Potion. He was rather enjoying himself, when Vesperra turned to him, and out of nowhere, asked, "Sir, I was just wondering… Are you particularly less strict on Auburn-haired girls?" and continued to stare at him.

He was speechless… he didn't remember ever telling her about Lily, and even if he had, he didn't think she'd ask an insensitive question like that, and now he was angry. He was about to tell her to leave the classroom when she suddenly seemed to Transfigure into Lily…

Snape knew in his heart of hearts it wasn't really her… Vesperra had to have used Polyjuice potion or a spell or something, but it didn't matter to him. He saw Lily Evans's face right in front of him, smiling into his direction with her eyes locked on his. At first sight of her, his spine nearly involuntarily whipped his head forward towards hers and his arms flew around Lily to pull her in as tight as possible. But as soon as his lips even brushed hers, everything started to fade away.

First, it was the room, where the walls disintegrated and the sky became wisps of nothing, and within seconds, he and Lily, or Vesperra, whichever, were floating in oblivion. Then, he could feel himself become nothingness, starting at his feet, and then his body all the way up to his neck became separate. Lily was disappearing as well; because he no longer felt her body pressed close to him or her back clutched desperately in his arms, but the last thing he felt before it all vanished… were her lips on his.

Snape drifted back into consciousness, or at least, awareness of reality, with his lips still in a pursed, kissing position and his arms outstretched in front of him, holding empty space. His eyes opened suddenly, and it was actually not everything disappearing, thus proving none of it was real, that had jolted him awake… it was that he was no longer kissing Lily Evans. And now, as he opened his eyes and saw no one in front of him, his arms dropped, limp in pure frustration, disappointment, and sorrow.

He reached a hand out, yet again, to caress a face that wasn't there, and give the air one last kiss before he buried his face in his hands and flipped over in his mattress so he was lying on his stomach. Right then, he felt miserable. He felt as if there were twenty Dementors gliding into his room and they were sucking what was left of his happiness away… and if there _were_ Dementors in there, about to administer him a Kiss, he wouldn't have cared. His soul was a lost cause anyway…

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry you idiot! Damn, well there it goes, you're crying. Get over it. I can't! Quit crying about it, Vesperra does… wait… Vesperra. That's it._

His new realization had ceased the flow of tears from his eyes as he flipped over to stare at the ceiling… He had had dreams about Lily almost every night… and if it wasn't about Lily, it was about James Potter… torturing him and stealing Lily… or, Voldemort… killing James and Lily…

But, they had all been bad memories in the past. It was usually the same old thing… He and Lily talk under an Oak tree at night… she talks about James and makes him mad, or another night he might just dream his worst memory, where he made the mistake that ruined his life, or sometimes that he kept trying to make time to talk to Lily but she kept pushing him away, eventually saying she hated him… leaving him broken, crying, miserable, and then he'd wake up crying…

Some dreams of his started out good, and often he'd kiss (or do other things…) her, but then it would always turn out horrible in the end, just like it had in real life.

Then suddenly, Vesperra D'Monicas comes into his life, and he can already tell that he's going to enjoy having her as a student more than he has anyone else, and now, because of her… he'd finally have a dream of fully requited love with Lily. Never in these 11 years had he dreamt of something so amazing, it left him upset when he woke up that it hadn't happened.

And this was strange, too, that horrible dreams left him angry and upset, because he was forced to relive his worst memories and felt as if it just happened all over again. But then, the one good dream he had in such a long time leaves him crying, and not in a silent, angry way, like Vesperra did. His eyes spewed tears like a water faucet that refused to turn off, he whimpered in pure hopelessness, and his throat burned with extreme intensity, for he had such an urge to scream his cries and to express his sorrow as loud as possible in order to feel better and not keep everything bottled in so much that it would all explode at once, like now, But he knew that if he let himself do that, he would, by no doubt, be heard and questioned.

It was obviously because the one thing that he yearned for most finally happened, without interruption, and it all had to go away so soon… in fact, it never happened.

"Dammit, it couldn't have been real? " Snape cursed, this time out loud, but not too loud. He jumped up from his bed, and winded up his foot to kick a sack on the floor out of anger. "It couldn't even have… lasted longer?" After emitting a small moan of desperation and utter misery, he glanced at his clock… it was already 7:30.

Nearly panicking, he hurriedly clothed himself in his proper Potions Master attire and headed out the door of his room, not bothering to brush his hair, and instead using a spell to at least untangle it. But nothing could fix how greasy it was…

Snape knew that some might be anxious to know where he was, and would want a more believable story than, "I slept in," but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Now, he was trying to understand with all his might why this little girl, a first-year that he had hardly spoken to had caused him to dream about what he never could have hoped for before. Perhaps it was… because he saw himself in her, and thus, can now see from an outside point of view, what it was like to be him. Perhaps Vesperra… was unknowingly helping him understand more of his past. Or maybe, it was all just a random dream manifestation of the first time he's been even remotely happy in years.

For when she had thanked him last night, it had sounded so familiar and like something he missed… that he smiled, a genuine smile of happiness, for the first time in years.

* * *

As the clock struck 6:20, Vesperra immediately left the dorm. Though breakfast didn't start for another ten minutes, she knew it would take a few minutes to get there, and she wanted to get there early, when no one else was there. She arrived at the Great Hall soon, which was almost empty except for a handful of Ravenclaws.

She took a seat at the very end of the Slytherin table, which she assumed would now be her permanent seat. When she did, her plate suddenly adorned itself with eggs, bacon, biscuits, and fruit. Vesperra ate slowly, thinking all the while. She wondered what it would be like to fly. Maybe she could someday fly out of there and never turn back… to live on her own.

The plate continued to refill with food, but Vesperra never became full, as she wasn't normally fed well. Soon, however, the teachers had sat at their respective chairs and more students filed into the Great Hall. Her eyes scanned the room, and every student they happened to land on had opened their eyes wide, then quickly turned away. She supposed after yesterday's innocent, no one would dare dream of crossing her.

Well, at least, most wouldn't… Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sauntered down the Hall to take their seats near her. The thought crossed her mind to leave immediately and go back to her room with her back turned to them, but that felt cowardly… what would Snape say to her if she just ran away when she hadn't even been confronted? So instead, she decided to stay and act as if they weren't even there.

Suddenly, Crabbe and Goyle were on either side of her and she could feel Draco's presence behind her as her bent over, his hands crossed behind his back, and spoke directly into her ear.

"So what happened to you after I left? Huh?" He hissed angrily. Then when she didn't answer, he practically kicked Crabbe out of the way to take his place on the bench and get as in her face as possible. He scrutinized every muscle in his normally smooth face, and stared at her expectantly. "How did he punish you? He better have punished you!"

Vesperra registered that Draco's head was close enough for her to rip it off, but ignored her urges to do so. She jerked around quickly so her face almost collided with his, and used her arms to reinforce her mockery of Draco's attempt at an intimidating position.

"What did _I_ do, Draco…" Vesperra demanded in a quiet, subtle voice that was yet serious and angry, as she hardly opened her mouth or her teeth, and looked Draco as straight in the eye as you can get. "that would have gotten me punished?" She pursed her lips, waiting for Malfoy to go berserk. Oh, she knew what she was getting into by saying that. Vesperra was nearly asking for it, and she knew so as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth… but it almost was out of her control. But for some reason, she didn't regret it.

At least this time, she would be in more of a shouting match than a torturing session with her as the victim. She felt proud of herself that she was finally taking a stand and not just trying to ignore it. It felt good to be following Snape's advice…

"You know what you did!" This time he actually screamed, in a rather high-pitched, girlish voice, Vesperra thought, and actually seemed to be upset. She didn't flinch whatsoever, even though she received the height of his voice, while the others in the Great Hall stared. "You threw a knife. At my face!" with particular emphasis on_ face_. "You nearly killed me!"

"Give me a reason and I'll try it again!" she warned, raising her voice but still not breaking eye contact with him.

When he seemed too shocked to reply, she continued, and quieter once more, "You know what you said to make me want to kill you. You brought it upon yourself… and I think we're even." then attempted to turn back to her food to end the conversation. But Draco wasn't about to let her leave him hanging like that.

"So you don't even have _detention_?" Not allowing her to answer, he quickly continued. "Well, what happened? Tell me, then!" Draco was almost standing on the table now, trying to hover high above Vesperra and look frightening.

Assuming it would be entertaining to watch Draco struggle to comprehend why she hadn't been punished whatsoever, she looked straight at him, and crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands on her lap as if she were about to tell a story.

"If you must know… he warned me to control my anger… and to try not to kill you next time."

"What else?

"That's it. Why would I be punished? I acted purely on instinct."

Malfoy looked so angry that Vesperra thought he might have been about to explode. She was surprised that it had hit him so quickly… she figured he wasn't that intelligent, but she was wrong.

"But so did I." he replied in the same tone she had been using.

Vesperra was about to confront him with the truth, and say something like, "It wasn't instinct that forced you to torment me to the point of insanity." but then she remembered… Snape had told her about how he heard them say all those things in confidence for a _reason_… Though he hadn't told her not to tell anyone, she assumed he would be angry if she did. And Snape, the only person in school (or possibly in the world) that even respected her, was the last person she'd want to disappoint. So she made up a lie. Well, it was half a lie…

"I suppose he doesn't believe you were."

"No! I DEMAND justice!" Draco announced very loudly. As he leapt off the table and strutted back from whence he came through the corridor that led to the Slytherin dungeons, he snapped, signaling Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. As he neared the exit, he turned dramatically and said, "My Father will hear of this!"

"Hear of what? That his son is such a coward that he spends his time torturing innocent people in his own House, and when they decide to finally fight back, depends on other people to protect him?" Vesperra taunted, half angrily and half mockingly. Without another word, he sped out of the Great Hall, while Crabbe and Goyle hurried after him.

This feeling was amazing. Rather than being beaten both mentally and physically until she resorted to crying in a corner, she was the one doing the beating… and on someone who deserved it so much. But this wasn't near enough revenge that Draco deserved… nor any of the other students who routinely tormented her… No, they deserved worse, much worse.

She knew it wouldn't last, though. The only reason she was able to keep up with it and defend herself the whole way was that _she_ had been the one to start it. She was the one initially bullying. But who's to say that she doesn't normally defend herself? Usually, she just didn't do it actively or with timeliness… she would sit there, ignoring them, defending herself by not letting them get to her… but sometimes it didn't work. So later, she'd plan her revenge. She'd spend nights dreaming up ways to kill them… and as they continued taunting her the next day, it would make her feel better inside knowing that her tormentors would one day meet their end, if she had anything to do with it.

But like she thought before, sometimes it didn't work. Actually, it worked mostly in the beginning, then eventually she'd crack, and end up walking home briskly while crying in the rain, or just collapse right there, hopeless, defenseless, no more will to live…

For right now, anyway, she felt proud of herself. She even almost smiled, but even this event wasn't happy enough to make her cheerful. More like… satisfied. Suddenly, she remembered that Snape must have been watching this ordeal from the Professors' stage the entire time. Part of her was hopeful that Snape would be smiling at her, the way he was the night before when she thanked him, just as proud of her as she was. Then again, another part was afraid he'd be mad at her for revealing that she had not been punished, which might cause him, in turn, to be in trouble with Dumbledore, and more importantly, Lucius Malfoy. If he was, her excuse would be that she didn't directly tell him… she had been asked… and she was a terrible liar. Which, ironically, was a lie.

She was actually an excellent liar… she had to be, to be as clever as she was. The only reason she told him what happened was that she just wanted to make him angry… But it really wasn't just a matter on whether or not she was in trouble with Snape. She really did care about Snape's well being, considering his reputation in this castle and outside of it. Lucius Malfoy could definitely ruin Snape's life if he wanted to… and if he was sacked here, he wouldn't have anywhere to go without having to be stared at or have fruit thrown at him.

Well, it didn't matter now, because when she turned around to see what Snape's expression was, she saw his chair to be empty. She did, however, see Dumbledore smiling at her. Not in the same way Snape would, but in a knowing way that showed he approved of her. And since he must have heard everything with the lack of noise in the Great Hall, she was now sure and relieved that Snape wouldn't be in trouble here. But that still left Draco's father… and Lucius had connections in The Ministry… who knows what he might do to him… if Draco decides to actually tell him, as planned, anyway.

But more importantly, it was nearly 7:30 and Snape was the only Professor not sitting down for breakfast. The other students, as well as the other professors, were all obviously wondering the same thing, whether hopefully, happily, or only out of mere curiosity; _Where the hell is Snape?_

Vesperra was disappointed Snape hadn't seen any of it, because if it weren't for him, it wouldn't have happened. Now, what could be keeping him? Snape, she had heard, was supposed to be one of the most responsible, on-time, strict perfectionists of a teacher that Hogwarts has had in the past few decades.

For the next ten minutes or so, Vesperra didn't take her eyes off the archway that Snape would have entered through… she had lost her appetite, and now was growing impatient. Then a small black dot appeared at the end of the long corridor, and grew bigger… It was Snape… finally! When he arrived in the Great Hall, only fifteen minutes were left in breakfast. He avoided looking at anyone, possibly embarrassed, and moved so quick towards his chair that he seemed to be gliding.

All the Slytherins stared at him expectantly, as if he were about to explain his absence. One evil glare from him seemed to automatically force their heads down or towards anywhere but him, as Snape was not one to enjoy having people stare at him. Vesperra, however, continued to sneak glances at him, and often found him staring in her direction, but he would immediately look away, to make it appear as if he was only scanning the room and it was a coincidence his eyes happened to fall on her multiple times.

This continued for the remainder of breakfast, for Vesperra craved at least some sort of eye contact with the Potions Master… now, though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was her favorite person. Well, that was useless to say, anyway, because he was the only person she liked. So there wasn't exactly a wide array of options to choose from when picking out people.

After what seemed like only a few minutes to Vesperra, the bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. It was 8:00, which meant classes started in one hour. What to do for an hour… well, everyone was piling out of the Great Hall, which had to be emptied for the sixth years to practice Apparition, so naturally, she did that as well. Inconspicuously, she tried to get close to where Professor Snape was, somewhere in the crowd, in an attempt to see him once more before the end of the day.

As she wove in and out of the sea of faces, she eventually caught sight of Snape's black hair, and strove to get closer. Once the crowd had thinned out, she decided to continue moving in the direction of her own dorm, as to not draw suspicion. Suddenly, Snape turned his head around, as if he was looking for her as well. His eyes caught sight of hers, and they locked gazes. She smiled, but not in a way that people could tell… it was really only that she raised the muscles in her face slightly and it _felt_ like she was smiling, but her expression only looked slightly less depressed than normally.

To her, the gaze meant a tiny bit of hope, and a warm feeling inside her heart that wasn't usually there.

* * *

To him, it was acknowledgement that Vesperra was just as eager to have him in her life as he did her. It was sort of a deeper level of understanding… or a psychic connection. Well, they couldn't read each other's minds (Snape could, if he wanted to, because he was, after all, one of the world's best legillimens, but he would never force his mind into Vesperra's innocent little head.), but he supposed it was more like an emotional connection. Instead of their brains, they were connected by the heart… or the soul.

And he'd been feeling the urge to just look at her, straight in the eye and establish something with each other for the morning. A couple seconds, though it felt like half an hour, went by and they slowly looked away and hurried on to their respective quarters.

After pondering over his dream some more, he'd decided that the early morning crying sessions that made him late would be worth it, if he could just keep having dreams in which everything worked out with him and Lily. It was better than reliving his worst memories every night… even if it meant having a fit in the mornings because it never happened.

Maybe he'd get used to it, like he got used to his other dreams. He used to cry about his nightmares, but then, as it happened nearly every night now, he was almost aware that he was dreaming when they happened. Then he'd wake up and be filled with as much depression and misery as usual, but no tears would come, because they've all been used up. And he'd just think, _Thank God that was only a dream…_ But then he'd realize that technically it _did_ happen, just a long time ago. But he had to continue to experience the horrors of it… and he tried to get over that, too.

But every once in a while, he'd relive something particularly horrible, or it might have been something so subtle that it had hidden emotions in it, and he'd cry his eyes out the moment he awoke from the nightmare. Then again… those never made him late. He would wake up early from those nightmares, and quickly force himself to cease sobbing into his pillow and properly get ready.

This dream left him miserable, and yet unnaturally giddy at the same time. Of course he'd be upset that it wasn't real, but then at least the half of his life that he spent asleep would now, probably, be much better than the other half. And that would give him something to look forward to… after a long, hard day full of dealing with brats, he'd be eager to fade into a separate reality, where his fantasies could finally become at least somewhat realistic.

But that would also mean that he'd be almost literally, living for his dreams, and lose sight of reality, and soon wouldn't be able to comprehend the real world anymore. But for Lily, he would do anything. To hear her voice, see her face, caress her perfect skin, _kiss_ her soft lips…

Dumbledore would advise him otherwise, though… There was still Harry Potter. He was the last trace of Lily Evans, and even if he could now be with her in his dreams, he had to do something that mattered. He had to make sure she did not die in vain… and make sure Harry kills Voldemort in the end.

Now, Snape didn't pretend to have a perfect mind, like Dumbledore. Emotions often presided over logic with him, and at times, he felt so angry that he might go straight back to Dark Magic and revert to his old ways. Dumbledore was aware of this, as he had been Snape's Professor and friend for some time, and made him promise to protect Harry Potter. He knew Severus to be unstable, and still full of hatred that had been there ever since he could remember, and it was irreversible.

But it was mere unfortunate events and horrible fate that had driven him to darkness and the Headmaster was sure he wasn't truly evil, even though he sometimes seemed to be. He knew that it was, in fact, Lily having been in his life that had made him turn out to be good, even if Snape didn't believe it sometimes himself. Love had been poured into a small, greasy-haired child, an empty shell of hatred and misery, and luckily for him, that small bit of love prevented him from being completely evil, and would eventually consume him instead.

It was this one desire that he would keep coming back to, even at the times he would forget his purpose and wouldn't want to keep up with the plan anymore… for his entire childhood, those seven years at Hogwarts, Lily's pure and kind and just… perfect heart rubbed off on him, and made him a better person inside. Really, unfathomably deep inside.

If Dumbledore hadn't been much wiser than he was, and wise enough to force him into it, he would eventually definitely, directly support Voldemort after his inevitable return, and by the time he would realize the error of his ways again, it would be too late, and he would be in an unfit state to live.

_Gah… why does Dumbledore always have to be right?_ he mused, killing time in his office with this psychoanalysis. But in all honestly, he was extremely grateful. Dumbledore had told him of his entire plan prior to his promise, and of course, about why it was necessary. And he completely agreed. His past had put his tortured mind into an unreadable state, as if he had his feelings surgically removed so no one could ever touch them again… But that wasn't true, either. He felt very much… of only one thing… and you know what that is.

Either way, any sane person that knew Snape's exact past, which was no one, would have been able to see that, what his brain considered logic was nothing at all. It was impossible to discern what Snape would do next, even by himself… and that was why an Unbreakable Vow was in order. If he couldn't learn from his mistakes, he'd just have to keep the threat of death on him until he finally found some control in him and could do it all on his own. And that would be a while…

Snape knew he would do what was right in the very end, though, even if it meant he had to die. He didn't care. This realization here, at that second, forced him to rethink his earlier decision. Would he really throw away this master plan, that would bring everything to justice and give him the satisfaction of vengeance and allow him to die peacefully, whether it be in the process or long after everything's over with, just for happy dreams? Yes, he had not dreamt of anything but horror of the worst degree for over ten years, but was being free of those worth possibly being deprived of eventually being able to come to peace with his life?

Let's see, temporary happiness, or eventual eternal life with the woman he loved? It wasn't a difficult choice at all. In fact, the thought of someday seeing Lily again, the next time with none of the horrible emotions that he had been forced to endure in his life as a human, and that time, all would be forgotten and forgiven, really eased the pain of heartache. Keeping this one thought in mind, he figured, would be enough to chain him to the piercing truth of reality.

Of course, if these dreams continued at the hand of Vesperra, he would surely enjoy them, but also try not to fade into a state of hopelessness every time he discovered it wasn't real, and not to become obsessed with having them, or at least not so obsessed that he wouldn't even act on orders that pertained to the Master Plan.

With this decision, Snape noticed that it was 8:50, and his Advanced Potions class for seventh years would start in ten minutes. Leaving behind all thoughts of Lily, he composed himself to be in professional mode, and prepared instructions for the upcoming hour.

* * *

Vesperra had found a route that would put her in a different path directing her to her dorm, in order to avoid confrontation with any of the other Slytherins. Once there, she made sure that everything she needed was in her bag, and that her wand was hidden in her sleeve for ready use. That still left about forty-five minutes before her first class…

So, full of boredom, she walked to her bathroom and ran the brush through her hair for the billionth time, wishing that it weren't this greasy. It clung to her face and made her skin greasy as well… and she just hated it. Perhaps in Charms one day, she might learn a spell that could remove all the grease from her hair. Well, that would obviously be a while from now anyway, because she was only a first year.

After silently pacing, running her fingers through her hair, unpacking and repacking her bag over and over, and stopping to peer through the window for about half an hour, it was fifteen minutes until her Flying class. She figured it wouldn't take that long to get outside to the fields, but she wanted to be early.

Vesperra scooped up her bags and walked briskly down the corridors and out the front entrance to make her way to the field. She had made it in less than ten minutes, so most students weren't there yet, but would be arriving within a couple of minutes, she supposed. There were two rows of brooms laying on the grass, which she assumed was one side meant for the Slytherins and the other side for the Gryffindors.

Her assumptions were right, because within the next five minutes, most of the students had arrived and were now standing in a huge mass, waiting to be instructed. Among the last was a group of three Gryffindors, a frumpy-looking brown haired girl, a ginger, and… Harry Potter. Ugh, she loathed him almost as much as she did Malfoy… but this was a different kind of loathing… the jealous kind.

Everyone knew who he was… The Boy Who Lived. He was possibly the most well-known name across the Wizarding World. But for every person that loves you, there are three that hate you. Harry Potter had had a tortured past, and everyone loved him because of it. He was famous… people asking for his autograph left and right… But Vesperra? She had had an even worse past, and everyone hated her for it, and her life became even worse than it had been before. It wasn't fair…

Then, Madame Hooch called out, "Everybody stand by a broom! Slytherins on the left, Gryffindors on the right."

Vesperra found herself standing at the front end, and Draco decided to take post right beside her. He shot her a glare that seemed to say, "I'll get you for what you did earlier." then looked away quickly. She knew, of course, he would plan something, and was going to spy on him in hopes to prevent it, but she hoped to God he wasn't planning something this class period.

"Now," Madame Hooch began to advise, "put your right hand over the broom, and say 'Up!'"

Vesperra immediately followed the instructions, but not before shooting Draco a glare of her own. Focusing hard, she did as instructed, but rather than flying up to her hand, her broom whipped around in a fast circle, whacking Draco's shins extremely hard in the process. He collapsed under his own weight and clutched his legs while wincing in pain. The Gryffindors laughed, especially Harry Potter, but the nearby Slytherins ran to his aide.

Pansy Parkinson seemed especially worried, but Vesperra was sure he was fine. He _had_ to be faking it… a broom couldn't hurt him that bad. And if it could, she would try to lose control of a broom more often…

"Ow… ow, it hurts… I think… there might be a fracture." Draco whined in the most overly-dramatic voice he could possibly do. Pansy jerked her head around and shot her a glare, and kept it there in an attempt to make her show a sign of weakness, like apologize. Vesperra, however, found it highly amusing, yet annoying, that Draco would think he had to put on a show like this.

Had she been more used to this feeling called… happiness, she would have laughed out loud, which is what she felt like doing, but being, well, herself, it would be foolish to expect even a grin from her. Well, maybe an evil grin.

"Oops." she mock-apologized with a scowl, but with a tone that seemed to be infused with dark humor and a bit of sarcasm, as she flipped the hair from her face in a way that would make her seem more intimidating. Suddenly, nearly all the Gryffindors ceased practicing with their brooms to laugh their arses off, as Malfoy was turning red with humiliation.

Obviously noting that his ploy wasn't working, he instantly made a full recovery and jumped up onto his feet, with Pansy still awkwardly holding onto him.

"Get off of me, will you?" he ordered as Pansy reluctantly let go and backed off. Then, he took a huge stride towards Vesperra so he was, once again, an inch away from her face, as if he were about to bite it off. "Just wait, Half-Blood. You're not going to get away with this… "Then, as if he were too afraid to say any more, he backed off and returned to practicing with him broom, as did everyone else. They did, however, continue chuckling to themselves and speaking to one another about it under their breaths, so Vesperra couldn't hear.

Readying herself, she prepared to have another go at it. "Up!" she commanded, and the broom quickly shot up, straight into her hand. She had noticed, looking down the queue of first years, that Harry Potter had accomplished this several times already, to the shock of others, especially Draco. But now, some seemed to be staring at _her_, still with all the loathing as usual, but now with jealousy as well.

Draco was having trouble controlling his broom, as it was merely bucking up a couple inches when he tried to summon it to his hand, or simply shaking a bit in his hand, but then he got the hang of it around the same time most people did. Vesperra continued to drop it and summon it straight back up. Of her own ability to focus so well, even she was surprised. Perhaps she was more likely to achieve when it came to mastering charms (or curses), because her mind wasn't clouded with distractions like… friends, happiness, or memories that she'd actually want to remember.

Either way, she was glad she actually had an ability that could make others jealous… To just push things a little farther, she planned on keeping it to herself completely, showing off when the time was appropriate, and then not even applying it to something people that couldn't fly so well would wish they could do, like Quidditch. Just to make people _really_ pissed off.

Madame Hooch then told them all to sit on their brooms and hover a few feet in the air, as she noticed that they had mostly all mastered summoning their broom. Before anyone else could even fully get on their broom, Neville Longbottom, the fat, stupid looking boy from Gryffindor was on his, and started floating higher in the hair than they were supposed to, but it seemed to be out of his control. Hooch ordered him to come down, but his broom went completely crazy and started spinning and jerking him around… It looked painful.

All the Slytherins, except for Vesperra were laughing hysterically. Obviously, they thought it was just hilarious when any Gryffindor was hurt, especially one as clumsy as Neville. To Vesperra, though, it seemed familiar… getting pointed and laughed at while you were being tortured for something you couldn't control…

Who cares if he was a Gryffindor? _Just because they're supposed to be our rivals, it doesn't mean we have to want the worst to happen to them,_ she thought harshly at the ones who were laughing. He didn't deserve it… but he _did_ seem pretty stupid… and he _was_ a Gryffindor… Oh, well, sucks for him, then. She didn't care. But she wasn't laughing either. It was probably because somehow, she knew for sure that she would never have to have anything against him… he just looked too nice and naive.

Soon enough, Neville was hanging from a conveniently placed statue by a rip in his cloak, which ripped all the way through, and he fell twenty feet to the ground, breaking his wrist. Madame Hooch walked him off to the Hospital Wing and told everyone to stay off of their brooms. Which would mean that as soon as she left, everyone would be on their brooms.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Draco put on an evil grin as he walked over to pick up the rememberall that Neville dropped. He turned it over twice in his fingers, and he seemed to be getting an evil idea.

"Maybe if he'd look at this, he'd remember to fall on his fat arse!" Draco proclaimed, once again making all the Slytherins but her laugh. Then the famous kid of the school, Harry Potter, confronted him and ordered that he give it back… probably just a ploy to get attention, Vesperra assumed. It seemed to be even, as most of the Slytherins stood beside Draco to back him up, then same with the Gryffindors and Harry Potter.

Without warning, Draco took off on his broom surprisingly fast for, as far as Vesperra knew, having not had any training. Potter took off as well, and most of the students ran around to try to keep up with the race, staring in awe. They were all so excited… while Vesperra stood alone, away from everyone else, scowling and skulking in her place.

_Oh, yay… Draco has to act like a jerk every chance he gets, then Harry Potter has to be the big hero and everyone just loves him… _

Finally, Draco threw Neville's rememberall as hard as he could, and Potter left a trail blaze chasing after it. He flew much faster than she imagined a first year could… and at the last second, a single moment before he would have been but a smudge on McGonagall's large, glass window, he caught it, and made a sharp turn back towards the field.

Draco landed some time before he did, which no one made a fuss about, except that he got a couple high-fives from Crabbe and Goyle. But when Potter landed, he held the rememberall up high and proud, and all the Gryffindors ran to him, cheering. Now, Vesperra could tell that all of the other Slytherins were staring at him with as much loathing as she was.

As if on cue, Draco stood near Vesperra, and glared at Potter, crossing his arms.

"I _hate_ him." he seethed, to anyone else as much as him. And with this, Vesperra completely agreed. As if she had forgotten for one second about everything Malfoy had done to her, she crossed her own arms and looked slightly over to Draco.

"Me too."

The rest of Vesperra's classes for the day were good, but only in the way that she considered good. In Transfiguration, she decided that being an Animagus would be very useful… Then she had her break, in which she sat down and merely flipped through the pages of her Transfiguration book, to see if there was anything about Animagi. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been strange, as she did not expect to have an eccentric teacher like Quirrel… and she was sure there was something funky going on with his turban.

However, she noted that Professor Quirrel seemed to be more on the Dark Side than willing to defend himself from it, so she figure it wouldn't be _that_ bad. She learned the Levitation Charm in Flitwick's class quickly, and was almost the fastest. But, of course, the Ravenclaws were more adept at it. As a small group of haughty Ravenclaws were obviously jealous, they proceeded to fake making snide comments behind her back, in a way that Vesperra couldn't hear what they were saying, but knew it was about her.

Rather than becoming visibly angry like they had hoped, she muttered the incantation "Wingardium Leviosa" under her breath, and flicked her wand sideways to cause the feather to fly into the main Ravenclaw's mouth as he inhaled from a particularly annoying laugh. He coughed, gasped, and hacked until the feather finally flew out. Grasping his throat desperately and almost fearfully, he looked around at the full classroom of children laughing at him. Even his immediate friends were, who had been joking with him about Vesperra. Glazing over the classroom vaguely, she could even see most of the Slytherins grinning to themselves.

The bell rang for the eighth time that day, and Vesperra knew what that meant… it was finally time for Potions.

* * *

Nearly shaking with anticipation, Vesperra entered the Potions Lab in the dungeons. It was obvious that most other Slytherins were excited to be in this class as well, judging by the looks on their faces. She had heard that Snape often played favorites with the Slytherins, since he was the Head of Slytherin, so they all probably assumed that this would be their easiest class.

Vesperra found her seat at the right end of the second row, and immediately gathered together all the supplies she knew she'd be needing. The other students soon took their seats as well, and in the end, there were three empty seats in the left side of the front row, which was directly facing Snape's desk. Simultaneously, Snape emerged from his inner office and Harry Potter with his friends entered the room, hastily sitting where no one else wanted to. Now that she thought about it, Vesperra should have sat in front. Too late now.

Though they weren't actually late, they had been the last ones to arrive, and for that, Snape shot them a deathly glare… So he was finally teaching Potions to Harry Potter… He desperately hoped that he was as adept at Potions as his mother was. Everyone, he was slightly perturbed to see, was staring directly at him, ready for class to begin, except for Harry and friends, who were talking amongst themselves. He ignored them, and sat upright in his chair to introduce himself.

"I am Professor Snape, and I will likely be teaching you Potions for the rest of your days here at Hogwarts," he announced. "Unless, of course, I eventually am assigned to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts instead." Vesperra would have preferred Snape to be her DADA professor than Quirrel, but either way, he was teaching her something, so she didn't mind.

She was probably paying more attention than anyone else in the class. Vesperra stared directly into his dark eyes and focused her ears to hear everything. As Snape paused to survey his students, his eyes caught hers, and while not a single muscle tightened or contracted in his face, his eyes seemed to light up a bit.

Now, he began to stand up, opening the front of his cloak to grip onto and stuff into his elbows while he folded his arms.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses, but for the very few of you that will," he turned his eyes to Vesperra, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death."

_Bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…_ Now, _that_ seemed like heaven to Vesperra. Oh, the nasty revenge she could achieve with that… Fame and glory didn't matter much to her, but, _putting a stopper in death…_ She could feel her upper lip curling… into a snare? No, a knowing smirk… of evil.

Abruptly, he cocked his head in Harry Potter's direction, and began to speak in a voice full of undeserved hatred.

"It seems that some of us, however, don't feel the need to _pay attention_." He then nearly ran over to Harry Potter's desk and stood darkly in front of it. "Oh look, everyone, it's our new celebrity." The Gryffindors stayed silent, as they obviously abhorred Snape as much as Potter seemed to, but the Slytherins emitted many snickers across the room.

All Snape saw now was Harry Potter staring straight up at him, with an emotional face that so obviously meant, "I hate you." Oh, how he'd love to say he hated him back, but he didn't really… or maybe he did… whichever, he guessed. But he had to protect him, make sure he was skilled enough to take on Voldemort. How would he prosper in anything if he wouldn't take it seriously himself? And then, he couldn't actually tell him about what he was destined for… so his best bet was to be harsh about it, in hopes he'd take it as a hint to work harder.

"Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he questioned, with absolutely no hopes that he would answer correctly. It was not a matter on whether or not he'd know these answers now, but if he thought Snape was a particularly strict teacher, so then he'd attempt to try even harder.

Hermione's hand immediately shot up in the air, while Potter only stared at him blankly and confused. Finally, he gulped and answered,

"I don't know, sit."

"Hmm, well, let's try again." He retreated to his desk, then continued walking back and forth from Harry's desk to his, keeping his eyes on the class the entire time.

Vesperra was elated to see that Snape hated Potter as much as she did, but not visibly. She watched in amusement as he was embarrassed by Snape for finally _not_ being a born expert at something.

"What about… where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Once again, Hermione had to be an insufferable know-it-all and wave her arm around in the air. And once again, Harry obviously had no idea, but only stared at him.

"You don't know?" Potter shook his head. "A shame… What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know sir." Potter forced out, in a tiny voice.

Snape was glad to see that his plan was working… that Harry Potter felt thoroughly humiliated, and now appeared to hate him. Knowing that the answers to these questions could very easily be helpful in his future in battling evil, he began a slow walk up and down the aisles between the desks.

"For future reference, root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood create the Draught of Living Death, a sleeping potion… monkshood and wolfsbane are the same thing, and also called aconite, and a bezoar is a stone you will find in the stomach of a goat that will save you from most potions."

Unlike many students, he noted that Harry did write that information down in his notes, much to his relief. Vesperra did as well, and seemed to be more organized and ready for class than anyone… well, except for Hermione.

Then he had to fully convince Potter of his hatred for him and seal the deal. With a roundabout twirl to his desk, he firmly gripped the edges, and stared him dead in the eye.

"But clearly for you, Potter, fame is everything." It worked… Harry was scowling at him as if realizing this would be his hardest class. Snape based his judgment that Harry would try harder from the fact that Lily had, and definitely not because he was a Gryffindor. In general, Gryffindors and Slytherins had hated each other, but he remembered one instance where there was an exception…

Vesperra listened closely to everything Professor Snape had to say. He had told them that they would be assigned to brew a simple potion that would cure boils, and the instructions appeared on the board with a flick of his wand. She thoroughly read all the instructions before starting, and continued to refer to the board with each new step, reading forward each time, as well.

Snape walked in between each desk, surveying the cauldrons. As he sauntered through the first row, he first saw Hermione's potion, which was the perfect shade of purple. She quickly attended to helping Harry Potter, noticing that his was not even satisfactory and Snape was right behind them. He stopped in his tracks behind Potter, angry that he wasn't trying hard enough.

"Mister Potter, no help." Hermione then immediately obeyed Snape, and Vesperra saw Harry shoot the back of Snape a scowl of loathing. And just for that, Vesperra loathed him even more.

Snape had stopped to point out the faults in almost everyone's potions, especially Neville Longbottom's. Not because he had some plan in mind for him as well, but because he was extremely incompetent and, well, he just looked fun to bully. However, when he had gotten behind Vesperra, he was, in a way, surprised, but in another way, not surprised whatsoever.

She seemed to be extremely focused in her work, and sort of reminded Snape of himself at that age, so intent on perfecting his potions… As he peered in closer, since he could not see directly inside the cauldron, for Vesperra's own head was directly above it, scrutinizing whether it was done perfectly or not, he saw that the color, the transparency, the slight mistiness of it… _everything_ was perfect.

Normally, he'd see a satisfactory potion, and leave the student without compliments, because that's just how he was. He didn't like to speak unless it was necessary, and he didn't find praise necessary. However, he had been in Vesperra's shoes before; unloved, thrown about like garbage, wishing at least one person that didn't hate him would come around. Well, Vesperra came around for him, so he decided to help her.

"It's… quite perfect, Miss D'Monicas." he reassured a worrying Vesperra, much to everyone in the vicinity's surprise. "There's no need to fuss about making it better… just fill up a flask… actually a couple flasks; I'm almost out of stock in those… Oh, and you have a 100 for today." Before walking away to criticize other students' potions, he briefly stared at Vesperra in a way that she couldn't not stare back. They shared a knowing glance, in which Vesperra's eyes gleamed, silently thanking Snape, and the right side of his upper lip twitched slowly, which was common knowledge for Vesperra that it was Snape's way of smiling.

It had only been the second time Snape has spoken directly to her, but it was heaven. For years, the only words she heard were hurtful, whether they were towards her or not. The first time, it was a warning and advice; a sign that Snape cared about her and was watching after her. Now, he had directly complimented her… she couldn't even remember the last time she received a compliment that wasn't meant to be sarcastic.

Though she didn't really show it, Snape could tell that what he said to Vesperra had affected her greatly. As she gathered up the flasks to fill with her potion and carried them over to his desk, he couldn't help but notice that she walked with much more confidence, and that her bottom lip trembled, as if she was trying to force down a smile. However, the other children scowled at her much more than before, and it hit him. Maybe, by doing what he just did, he also created more enemies for Vesperra. Oops.

Vesperra arrived back at her desk, with a half an hour left in class and nothing to do. Looking up from her now empty cauldron, she noticed many faces simultaneously stirring their potions and staring angrily at her. She was used to angry stares, but now it was almost the entire class. They were all just jealous, and she was sure of it. It's not like she got any special treatment, though. She had only done the potion correctly, Snape acknowledged her competence, and nothing else.

But then, it became obvious. Vesperra remembered that the only other times Snape spoke to someone about their potion was when they were doing it wrong. If anyone heard his voice, they would automatically assume him to say something mean or negative, at the least. He had just turned everyone against her, but she didn't care. Everyone already hated her anyway, and either way, having Snape in her life was worth it.

Ignoring them, she rummaged through her bag in an attempt to find something of interest, but found nothing. Instead, she re-opened her potions book and began flipping through the pages, looking for particularly interesting potions.

"Oh look, Snape's little favorite is getting ahead, trying to be an over-achiever and show us all up!" a black Gryffindor by the name of Dean Thomas practically hissed from the desk across the row from hers. Suddenly, everyone's stares grew dirtier, until she just turned her head back towards her book. She didn't dare look at Snape, or they would probably think she was expecting him to help her, and then never let that go.

Vesperra had come to a page about a Memory-Loss potion and was in the middle of thinking about all the ways that would come in handy, when something small landed on her book and exploded. Due to reflexes, she jumped back, and fell off her stool and towards the ground. She would have fallen smoothly and straight to the ground, but her head smacked against the desk behind her.

Luckily, she didn't become unconscious, but her very first thought was that she knew who threw it… it was that damn Dean Thomas… or maybe Seamus Finnigan, the boy sitting next to him, because whatever it was , it came from that direction. Without stopping to rest her throbbing head, her body shot up and forwards, as she drew her wand from her sleeve and had it pointed at them within seconds.

"You little-" She had been about to call them a curse word, until Snape seemed to appear beside her.

"Vesperra…" he said in a somewhat apologetic tone. To everyone else, it could have been him reprimanding her, but she knew that in just saying her name, he meant, "I'm sorry, I know. They deserve it, but you can't just go around killing people. I'll deal with them anyway, you know that." Either way, the very fact that he had said her first name, not her last, acknowledged that he saw her as more than just a student.

As soon as he said it, she glanced at Snape, lowered her wand, and backed off of Thomas and Finnigan. Snape picked up Vesperra's Potions book, which now had some singed pages, the pages she was reading now dark and unreadable, just like Snape's face as he stepped toward the two boys. Then, he put on his angry face.

"Which one of you…" and he looked at either one of them, "threw the firecracker?" Neither of them made any sort of gesture to indicate who it was, and they both stared blankly back at Snape. "Well, I guess I'll give both of you a week's detention." He immediately walked away, leaving them angrier at Vesperra than earlier.

She looked around to see all of the Gryffindors glaring at her almost murderously. Well, all except for Harry Potter and his friends; they were too wrapped up in talking to each other to notice anything else. Draco tilted his head upwards towards her, so he could look down to her. He had his arms folded and eyes squinted in an overly-jealous way. Obviously, he had expected to be Snape's favorite, but besides the Gryffindors, he turned out to actually be one of his least favorites.

Snape sat as his desk, surveying the classroom like an omniscient deity, mainly focusing on Vesperra. Now, it was just getting freaky how much Vesperra was like him… so, she was born excellent at potions as well? And they other students became so jealous that they resorted to teasing him in class? Yep, sure sounded like him…

It wasn't fair. Harry Potter had hardly brewed a decent potion and proved himself to be incompetent at potions so far, and still everyone wanted to speak to him, everyone still loves him… Then Vesperra brews a potion even better than Hermione Granger's, and other students now hate her so much that they want to explode her book… or possibly, her. Was this what the world had become? A place where… it paid to be stupid?

She grabbed her now ruined Potions book, and saw that much of it was useless. Vesperra definitely wasn't going to start reading it again, so she just sighed and slipped it back into her bag. While there were only a couple minutes left before the bell would ring, she put away everything. Snape told everyone whose potion was the proper color to fill a flask and give it to him for grading on their way out.

Finally, a bell sounded and everyone rushed out of the dungeons… except for Vesperra. She was in no hurry to catch up with the people she absolutely hated. Draco and his cronies seemed to take their time as well, probably only to take a few swings at Vesperra.

"Did that feel good, Despair-a?" Draco laugh-whispered, harmonizing with Crabbe and Goyle in their snickers. "I'm surprised you didn't get a concussion… well, you always could have gotten Snape to-" Before he could finish, Snape interjected from across the room.

"You already have detention all this week, Malfoy… I wouldn't say or do anything that would get you into an even _worse_ punishment." Gulping, Draco shoved Goyle and Crabbe in front of him and hurried on. Then, Vesperra slowly started leaving the room herself. When she passed Professor Snape, he handed her a Potions book.

"Here, you can have this spare one, seeing as those stupid boys felt the need to ruin yours." She took it from him softly, and in almost a pained voice, thanked him. This made him feel bad… it was indirectly his fault that she got hurt, and would indefinitely get hurt even more in the future, so at least he could try to fix it. Vesperra was about to turn to leave again when he stopped her in mid-step.

"Miss D'Monicas, does your head feel all right?... because I have an Anti-Headache potion if you need some." It was the best he could do. She was in pain, and if he could at least fix some of it, he would. But he couldn't just fight off everyone that felt like emotionally traumatizing her… even if he desperately wanted to. Hesitating, probably because of her pride, Vesperra finally agreed to let Snape help her.

She held out her hand, and Snape quickly (and definitely not coincidentally) grabbed one of the few flasks sitting on his desk, and placed it in Vesperra's small, soft, slightly trembling hand. After a couple swigs of the stuff, her pained expression lightened a little, and she handed it back to him. Vesperra felt a lot more willing to be open and express when it was just her and Snape, so she allowed herself to sigh in utter relief from the head-splitting pain she felt the moment before, and placed a hand to her temple.

He felt such an urge to move a stray hair out of her face, as he used to do with Lily when she was upset, and Lily even did with him… but not in a romantic way, obviously, because he was twenty years older than her. It was in a way that he sort of saw her as a physical manifestation of his memories, and her coming into his life has actually put him through good memories, and causes him to fall in love with the late Lily Evans all over again.

"Well, have a good evening, sir." Vesperra bade him farewell, and he immediately responded, "You too, Vesperra." She then slung her bag over her shoulder, and made her way out of the classroom as Snape watched her leave.


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3

_Hey, I'm REALLY sorry this chapter took so long. I got sidetracked... Oops. But now the third chapter is finished! Yay... By the way, I think this is the best one yet :D_

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* * *

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It had been about a week and a half since the school year had started. Unlike most others, Vesperra's life was mainly consistent; every day was composed of her being up early to eat breakfast, some teasing which she tried to ignore, classes that she excelled at, and then Potions class, which was the only time of her days that she enjoyed. Well, for the brief eye contact she'd have with Professor Snape at breakfast or dinner.

The weekend, however, had been brutal. After finishing any leftover homework, all she had to do was either stay in her room or wander the corridors. But Vesperra didn't want to risk running into Malfoy, or, really, anyone. She hated any sort of confrontation with people she didn't like, and that was everyone. So instead, she stayed in her room all day, except to eat, and just thought.

She mostly thought about Professor Snape… why he was the way he was, if the reason was similar to hers, how she wished he could have been her father… And the way she thought, an entire day could seem like only a couple hours.

* * *

Snape was relieved that another week was almost over… but then, was not so relieved, because he realized that he wouldn't have Vesperra in class for the weekend. The past ten days had proved Harry Potter to not be as willing to prove himself as he thought. In fact, he was one of the worst in his class, and rather than taking Snape's strictness as a hint to work as hard as he can, he just gave up on it all and decided that he could get by in school by just being himself… the famous Harry Potter.

Now, Snape felt like giving up on him. It felt like there was no way Harry Potter could become strong enough to defeat Voldemort… he was just too full of himself… just like his father. Yes, brave and courageous he was, because otherwise, he wouldn't have been Sorted into Gryffindor. But like most Gryffindors, especially James, that gave him the delusion that he wouldn't have to work hard in school… and that rules were easily bent to whatever he "needed" to do, because he felt he was more important.

Hatred for James Potter… for his arrogance, for him hating the Dark Arts, for him torturing him his entire childhood, for him taking Lily away from him, ignited inside him, and grew to become hatred for his son as well. How could he stay true to his promise to Dumbledore when Harry himself put forth no effort to become a better wizard? If Potter wasn't going to try, neither was he. Voldemort could have the boy for all he cared. Rather than avenging Lily, he could be used as an opportunity to get some late revenge on James…

But then again… as selfish as he was, it was easy to notice that Harry was as inexplicably kind as his mother was, and that's what Snape loved so very much about her.

_No!_ He suddenly forced upon himself. He would not, could not, give up. No matter how much he hated to look at Harry, for his similar appearance to James that reminded him of his terrible past, or his eyes and personality that made him think of the only thing he ever loved and how it was so horribly ripped from his grasp, he couldn't just let him die. Even when it very much felt like he wanted to kill him, he couldn't deny that deep down, he loved him.

And he was a Slytherin… and true Slytherins are ambitious and determined. Snape had the utmost determination to do what he was meant to do… what he now believed to be his life purpose.

This sort of inner-mind conflict occurred inside Snape every day. He'd wake up from a dream concerning either Lily or Vesperra or both, and would be completely ready to forgive Harry Potter and try to start over. Then every day, he'd have to deal with his ungrateful ass in Potions, and would be reminded of his laziness and selfishness of all the days before. It was like getting your hopes up and then having them crushed every day of your life… which was similar to how he felt every day as a child, being in love with his best friend, and her not returning the feelings…

The only thing that brought him to see logic everyday was Vesperra.

* * *

It was Thursday, which meant double Potions. Other students groaned at the idea… "Two hours with Snape? Ugh…", but for Vesperra, it brought a little extra light to her eyes.

As everyone shuffled to the dungeons, she heard a group of kids giggling profusely to her left. She noticed that it was a couple of the other Slytherin girls, and they were holding something in their hands and looking in her direction. _This can't be good… _Vesperra thought. Whatever they were holding, it was going to be used against her. Was it another firecracker? A dungbomb? She contemplated multiple theories while preparing to pull her wand out if needed.

Pretending she didn't see them, she continued to walk straight forward. Out of her peripheral vision, she was alarmed to see that the girls' hands were now empty, and they were still giggling. _Okay, so now they've let it go. Whatever's going to happen will happen within minutes…_

Suddenly, Vesperra felt something tickle her ankle, and everyone stared at her with horrified expressions, which turned to grins. Looking down, she saw a three-foot long python starting to constrict her right leg and disappear under her robes. By the expressions of the girls who set the snake on her, they seemed to have expected her to scream, so when she didn't they were disappointed.

Vesperra had never been afraid of snakes. The garden snakes were her only company as a child, when her parents fought and she was forced to stay outside. Snakes seemed to like her, too, seeing as how they all slithered up to her when she sat in the grass, crying. They'd comfort her… and then her mother would walk out the back door, see her talking to snakes, and scream at her to stay away from them and come back inside.

At first, she could never understand their hissing, but over time, it came to her, and now she could understand every word they said, and could talk back to them.

As the python reached her waist, she gently pried it off of her leg and held it up in her hands, letting him slither all around in her arm. Holding its gaze, she whispered to the snake,

"Sorry."

It then let out a long and drawn-out hiss, which Vesperra understood to mean, "It's fine… do you want me to bite those girls?" Honestly, she did… very much. But before she could say anything, worried murmurs flooded the corridors. Everyone stared at her like she was a monster of some sort. And you know what… she felt like one. She let the snake slither off of her arm and across the floor to the girls who had set him on her.

They shrieked and ran away, which was good enough for Vesperra. Seeing others in fear actually brought an evil sense of delight to her face… especially those who tried to hurt her. Instead of retreating to her, the snake followed the girls. When she had nearly reached the entrance of Snape's classroom, Professor Snape emerged from the entrance, and with a flick of his wand, the snake disintegrated at his feet. He shot a stern look at all the staring students, which meant "Get to class, before you all have detentions." and a somewhat softer look at Vesperra, which seemed to say, "You know I'm sorry, but I can't just let a student die, I'll get fired."

And she understood that. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to be slightly disappointed. She hurried to make sure she wasn't the last one in the classroom. When she was right beside Professor Snape, she felt like telling him that it was the other girls, in fact, who originally set the snake on her, but considering the fact that Snape hadn't pulled her aside or said anything to her, she assumed that he already knew.

Besides, those girls got their punishment anyway. Even though the snake never got to attacking them, he gave them a right good scare, and judging by the look on their faces when she talked to the snake, everyone was a bit more afraid of her now.

* * *

Snape sat at his desk, awaiting the last students of the day to arrive. He hoped Harry Potter would put a little more effort into his potion today, or he'd have to be extra mean. It was double potions for the last class today, which meant two hours with Potter… and a potion more difficult than usual, which would definitely not be good. Then again, it was also two hours with Vesperra, and she would yet again prove to be the best in the class.

Ironic, it was, the effect she had on him. During class, when Vesperra brewed a perfect potion and everyone became suddenly jealous, it made him get even madder at Harry Potter for not trying as hard as she was. But then, he'd see her closely, with her greasy hair hanging over her large nose as she stared into her cauldron intently… and he was reminded so much of himself. His young, tortured self. And then, he'd remember the reason he was doing all this in the first place.

It was only a few minutes until the beginning of class, but almost no students were in the classroom yet. He vaguely wondered if Vesperra had anything to do with it… His suspicions were confirmed when Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass rushed in, with horrified expressions and their robes astray.

"Professor Snape! Vesperra's set a huge snake after us!" Tracey nearly screamed.

He stood up immediately, but not with the safety of the students in mind. Instead, he was trying to understand how Vesperra could have possibly conjured a snake, seeing as she was only a first year. He also doubted that Tracey and Daphne were innocent… Vesperra would only have done it out of revenge.

To the girls' surprise, Snape's eyes suddenly ignited with fury as he demanded, "And just _how_ did Vesperra get hold of a snake, Miss Davis?" Tracey merely stood there, shaking, unable to reply. Noting this, he turned to Daphne, eyeing her questioningly. She, too, was reluctant to tell the truth, but it seemed as if she was about to open her mouth and answer, when another voice answered from the entrance, off to the side.

"They set it on her first, sir!" accused Hermione, who Snape hadn't noticed until now. "But sir…" she continued, stepping forward, narrowing her eyes and hushing her tone to a whisper, "She sort of… spoke to it. She made a weird hissing noise and the snake hissed back… I think she's…" Hermione's voice trailed off, because she assumed Professor Snape knew what she was about to say.

The other girls cast a hateful glance at Hermione for ratting them out, then a concerned one at Snape for what he might do to them. In fact… what was he going to do to them? He wanted to expel them for attempting to harm another student, especially Vesperra, but he supposed they got their punishment by being chased down a hallway by a snake, frightened for their lives. But he could always add a little more.

Snape left his post to see and fix what was going on in the hallway, but not before giving Tracey and Daphne each a month's detention. He was going to make them sort potentially fatal potions.

As he started down the corridor, the snake was already close enough to strike, and everyone, including Vesperra, stopped in their tracks. Quick to react, he pointed his wand at the python and mentally shouted, _Confringo!_ The snake disintegrated at his feet, and all the students stared in awe… except for Vesperra. She only looked straight into his eyes, emotionless. Perhaps she expected him to come, or even wanted him to.

After a stare that made all the others hurry to class, he made one last glance in her direction, trying to read her expression, which he did with fail. Then, he swiveled around to stride back to class, and heard the clatter of Vesperra's footsteps as she briskly walked to class herself.

_Vesperra, a Parselmouth? How was that possible?_ he struggled to comprehend. _Most known Parselmouths were descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and his last living descendants were the Gaunts… and they were dead. To have a gift so rare… No wonder she's a Slytherin. She could be even more dangerous to the others… I guess I'll have to make sure she never gets a hold of a snake._

Snape contemplated telling Dumbledore about it… It seemed like something he would want to know. In fact, with the way gossip traveled in Hogwarts, the Headmaster would indefinitely know soon anyway, and then would be angry at Snape for not telling him first. So, it was decided. He would run and inform Dumbledore as soon as the two hours were over.

* * *

Everyone was now seated, and Snape began the class. No one but Vesperra seemed to be listening, however, and instead, were whispering to each other, presumably about what had previously happened in the corridors.

Both Snape and Vesperra noticed this. While Vesperra tried to ignore it, Snape took immediate action. He held his wand to his neck, and muttered, "Sonorus."

"I expect all of you who do not wish to have detention will _listen_ to me while I am speaking." he spoke in the same cold, monotone voice as ever, but it was amplified enough to force everyone's hands over their ears, except for Vesperra, who almost seemed to enjoy hearing Snape's voice louder than usual.

As expected, no one spoke out of turn during the following instructions Professor Snape gave. Today, their assignment was to create a simple Sleeping Draught. Vesperra began hers, and tuned her ear in to eavesdrop on the nearby conversations that she figured would be about her.

Across from her table, Dean leaned over to Seamus, and seemed to speak loudly on purpose.

"I know it was self-defense, but she set a bloody snake on them! And she didn't even get detention…"

"Well now that we all know she's a Parselmouth, he's probably afraid to punish her, mate. M' Mum told me that when they were kids, he was afraid of everyone… a coward, he was. Said everyone would curse 'im in the halls, and he'd just run away… or cry." Seamus replied, snickering.

Professor Snape… cry? Vesperra didn't think he would ever cry. But they also said that people would curse him all the time… Now, she felt more of a connection to Snape than ever. In fact, she felt sorry for him… because it seemed like he had an even worse past than she did.

"And he cried so much, they all called him 'Snivellus,'" Seamus continued. "'Cause so much snot would come out when he cried…" At this, he broke into a fit of laughter, and Dean joined him. Desperately gasping for air, Dean managed to choke out,

"Probably because of his abnormally large nose!" This, he spoke a little too loud, and now most of the surrounding tables, except for the Slytherins, who looked angry, were giggling a bit.

Vesperra felt a new, passionate hate for them now. She probably couldn't have been angrier if they were insulting her to her face. With her temples burning, it was difficult to multitask, so she returned to complete focus on her potion and tried to block them out.

While observing the students from the front of the room, Snape noticed a dozen angry faces, all Slytherin, all pointed towards Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan; the angriest, Vesperra's. As usual, she proved very capable of hiding her emotions behind a blank, sallow-skinned face, but he could tell by her white knuckles from gripping her tongs too hard that she was ready to kill.

The surrounding Gryffindors, excluding Harry Potter and friends, who seemed to be too entralled in themselves, showed no effort to hide wide grins while they laughed… but at what, exactly? He could only assume it was something Thomas and Finnigan had said. Instead of walking straight towards them, he decided to be elusive, and walk all the way around the class, starting from the outside edge of the right side, then back around to them, so they wouldn't see him coming and he could catch them in the act.

Wising up a bit, Dean and Seamus began to whisper instead.

"Y' know, my parents told me 'bout that too… even said sometimes kids pushed him down, and he'd just lay there and cry for a while." Dean added, and laughed.

"Fizzing whizbees, really?" Seamus swore, nearly dropping his vial of crushed moonstone. "What a wimp!"

Okay, that was it. Professor Snape was anything but a wimp, and she would defend that to her grave, even after Snape himself was long gone and in his own. Doing what Snape did didn't make you weak… if it was like anything Vesperra had been through, she'd be surprised if he didn't just collapse and cry. Looking up from her cauldron, she saw Snape walking down the middle of the two rows, taking his routine inspection on everyone's potions. Hers was nearly finished, and she just needed to add the scarab eyes and make 3 clockwise stirs. Fearing Snape would be disappointed with her if she didn't have a perfect potion as usual, she refused to let her anger get in the way of her potion, and measured everything precisely.

Not realizing Snape was merely feet behind them, Dean and Seamus continued, and Vesperra began to eavesdrop again, as she had just finished her potion.

"Pfft… he deserved every bit of it, I say, for using Dark Magic…" Seamus scoffed. "That was his thing… back in school… but m' mum says no one was actually scared of 'im. A coward like him… why's he even allowed to teach?"

Vesperra couldn't believe they said that… and with Snape obviously having heard every word of it, they were sure to be punished severely, but it wasn't enough for her. Within less than a second after Seamus's comment ended, Vesperra kicked herself off her stool and three feet to the left, so she was in the middle of the walkway between tables.

"HOW _DARE_ YOU!" she shouted with every drop of passionate anger she had, and from deep inside the bowels of her lungs… so deep that her voice cracked slightly.

Simultaneously, a flask containing juices of a three-eyed toad that was sitting near Seamus's hand exploded, the shattered glass impaling every few centimeters of the skin on his hand and arm. He screamed as well, and clutched it with his other hand in stinging pain. Many other students also screamed, alarmed by the flask spontaneously exploding.

Vesperra feared that Professor Snape would be angry with her for not controlling her anger, but he obviously heard the whole conversation, and would know that she was defending his name… Either way, he seemed surprised towards her, and extremely angry at Dean and Seamus.

Seamus wasn't screaming anymore, but had tears forcing their way through his eyes, and he breathed through a narrow hole in between his teeth to soothe the pain. His arm was dripping blood all over the floor, and he appeared extremely anxious to leave.

Snape couldn't believe that Vesperra just got that angry over those boys insulting him… In a way, he felt touched that she admired him so much, but also afraid for Vesperra, who had shown she could easily kill someone if she got angry at the wrong place and time.

But what Seamus Finnigan had said… really made him feel murderous. He couldn't remember the last time he had to face those words in any place other than his dreams. Now, instead of it feeling all too real… it _was_ real. "Snivellus... coward… abnormally large nose…" Hatred was clouding his vision, and if he weren't so skilled in self-control, he could have cursed Ja- he meant… Seamus.

Leaning forward so he towered over Dean and Seamus like a powerful deity, he coldly muttered, "So you think I'm not capable of teaching you properly? Perhaps you two are more qualified… how about a month of cleaning out and sorting my particularly _deadly_ elixirs?... Finnigan, hospital wing."

Looking distraught, Seamus scurried out of the dungeons, sparsely dripping blood on the floor.

"Scourgify." Snape cleaned up all the blood and broken glass, and stepped into Vesperra's isle. He just looked at her, and suddenly, memories of Lily defending him from James appeared, and he looked away. He… just couldn't stand to be reminded of all of it, all at once… at least not here, where his students would see him cry…

She saw Professor Snape stare into her eyes with a slightly furrowed brow and pursed, parted lips. It was difficult to tell if the gaze was meant to be apprehensive, or a thanks, or just him scrutinizing her. Just in case, she apologized.

"I know, Professor… I did it again." she mumbled so quietly can even Snape could hardly hear her, and guiltily looked down, avoiding his gaze, and began to fill a flask with her potion. Feeling sorry that she should feel so bad for supposedly disappointing him, he stopped for a moment, looked back, and reassuringly, lightly touched her shoulder with his hand, as Lily often used to do to make him feel better, and continued walking away.

The touch shocked her… in a way that she felt a jolt of electricity surge through her body, awaken all her senses, and it immobilized her for what felt like a couple minutes. It was so much more than just a light touch on the shoulder… it was a new source of warmth that she would never get from her own heart, a sign that there was at least one person that cared about her, and a bit of light that eluded her out of darkness and made her feel substantially happier.

Vesperra couldn't remember anyone ever offering her even that slight bit of kindness or love… a simple touch to the shoulder… until now. Not even her own mother… she was always too busy to love her only daughter. She had a feeling that it had been a while since Professor Snape received any sort of direct kindness or love either… and to be able to give some to her… it seemed like an amazing feat. When one is separated from the concept of good and kindness for so long, they tend to forget what it even is, and usually wouldn't be able to go back to it.

There had to be a way she could repay him. But not right now… there was still about twenty minutes left in class, so she glanced around the room, to check up on how things were going after the incident. The few Gryffindors that were sitting behind Dean and Seamus momentarily looked up from their potions, which they had hardly come close to finishing, and glared in her direction. When they realized she was staring back, they nearly jumped out of their skins, and pretended they were never looking at her in the first place.

Then, it appeared to Vesperra that Harry and his friends hadn't heard a word of it, because they had been in their own conversation during most of what just happened, and hadn't even turned around. The Slytherins, however, seemed to be happy Seamus got what he deserved. Blaise Zabini was having a glaring match with Neville, obviously over whose side they were on.

However, it was more like they were angry at Seamus for insulting Professor Snape, but not so much grateful that Vesperra nearly massacred his arm. Vesperra was just another thing to be jealous of for them.

"It's not fair, Crabbe!" Draco complained to his cronies from two rows behind her. "I know we hate them too, but it had nothing to do with the fact that they're Gryffindors! Remember, I almost died too! He's just going to let her kill whoever she wants, and she's never gonna get punished!"

_Don't you think I have good enough reasons for wanting to hurt people? _she strained in her mind, as if trying to send it as a telepathic message to Draco.

So this was how the others viewed her… Professor Snape's favorite. And the only bit of love or respect she's ever gotten just _had_ to backfire on her, and turn into something worse than usual. Was it worth it? Yeah…. it was worth anything, there was no doubt about that.

After the usual announcement from Professor Snape that their time to finish their potion was up and everyone grabbed their bags and hurried out, Vesperra approached his desk, assuming he would want to speak with her. He raised an eyebrow at first, but quickly understood.

"I'm not going to tell you to control yourself better, Miss D'Monicas…" he sighed reluctantly. "because you already do an excellent job at it yourself." He hoped she'd understand, but it was useless to hope that…

"Then why do I keep making things explode or nearly kill people every time I get angry?" Vesperra questioned.

"Don't you see?" His voice rose, but not in an intimidating way. "You get angry, to the point that most adult wizards wouldn't be able to contain themselves well, all the time! I can see it in your eyes… I know how they make you feel! And you're able to just stand there and take it… Trust me, if I were you… well, let's just say I wouldn't be able to handle it…" In truth, he would have collapsed in the halls and cried, like Dean had said. Snape was sure Vesperra had heard him, too, but she didn't want to believe it, so he wasn't going to prove it to her.

After a long pause and no response from Vesperra, who seemed to be waiting for him to finish instead of eager to interrupt, he continued.

"The two times that you were a danger to someone, it was only because they pushed your anger past its limit, and you have a very high limit. It's anyone's but your fault… I can't teach you better control when I don't even have better control myself. Trust me… it's quite the opposite of what you thought it was."

This completely turned things around for Vesperra. She had only been worried about her anger because she thought Professor Snape would be mad, but since he wasn't, she couldn't care less if she accidentally killed someone. But she still had to control herself to her greatest extent, like she had been doing for the majority of her life…

"But one thing I am worried about, Miss D'Monicas, is _why_ exactly your anger caused the knife to fly and the flask to explode… Accidental magic should stop occurring around the time you enter Hogwarts. It _is_ common for young wizards and witches that can't harness their magic yet, but never have the emotions of a young child created dark magic… Or, at least, something deadly.

"And you've proven to be extremely adept at controlling magic in all your classes… so why should your anger manifest itself as magic?"

Vesperra decided to answer this one… "Perhaps, sir, hatred consumed my mind so much those times, that it was able to cause exactly what I wanted to happen without a spell." She had, in fact, thought about this topic on her own for a while, when she had her free time… and it made plenty of sense to her.

Snape found this as a viable answer as well… He'd have to run it over with Dumbledore; the power of hate, as well as the power of love? Dumbledore probably wouldn't believe it… even if his right-hand man did.

Now that he had a good enough reason, he changed the subject.

"I apologize for bringing this up, but… I need to know… about what happened in the hallway. How long did you know you were a Parselmouth?"

Not realizing how big of a deal it was that she could speak Parseltongue, she recounted the stories of her childhood and her friendships with snakes.

"And you didn't realize what this made you?" he asked her dramatically. "Why didn't you tell Dumbledore? Or me? This is rare, Vesperra, very, very rare. Almost frightening…"

"Because once you tell anyone anything here, the whole school knows!" She answered, almost defiantly, to Snape's surprise. "And then everyone would hate and fear me even more than they already did… like they will now…"

"I'm sorry I snapped…" he began softly. "But it's just very important… and you might not understand. Well…" He looked at the clock, and lowered his voice. "You really should be going… and one more thing; I'd honestly believe that they deserved it, but to avoid becoming too angry and murdering a student in the future, please try to just avoid them…" _That's what I did…_

This last piece of advice stayed with her… The way Snape had given it to her, he seemed to be more concerned for Vesperra's well being than the possibility of a student dying or himself being fired. Well, this was the longest conversation she'd ever had with Professor Snape, and she still felt like she had to repay him for the simple, yet amazing gesture. After a small nod of goodbye, she turned to leave.

"By the way, sir… I like your abnormally large nose…" she turned to say so before she left, "It's rather like mine."

* * *

Snape gasped and struggled to hold his breath and keep his expression still until Vesperra had fully exited the dungeon. The second he heard the door shut for good, he released conscious hold of his throat, which was now burning, inhaled so deep and quick it caused him to nearly double over, and let out a tiny whimper. To keep from letting out too loud of a cry, he bit down on his bent thumb as his eyes forced themselves shut.

He used his other hand to prop himself up as he leaned over his desk, but within seconds, his elbow gave in and he was laying flat on the top of his desk, with his head cocked sideways so he could breathe. Gritting his teeth so hard his jaw was trembling, tears streamed out of his eyes, staining his parchment. It felt like every few seconds, his lungs were already depleted of oxygen, so he'd need to open his mouth to let in air. Every time he did, another tiny whimper came out uncontrollably.

Aside from the "sir" and "It's rather like mine," Lily said the exact same thing to him, once in their first year together. He remembered it perfectly, and tried to think of it all the time, for it was one of the good memories he had about her.

_He and Lily walked down the corridors together to lunch, just a slight bit too close together, holding their books and talking about the previous lesson._

_"You're the best in the class, Lily; don't worry about not passing the test… I'm sure you'll get an Outstanding!" Severus reassured her with a genuine smile._

_"I guess you're right, Sev… I shouldn't be too stressed about it." she agreed, smiling back. "It's just that it's the first major test of the year, you know. And besides, __**you**__ are the best in the class, not me." _

_Severus looked ready to have a debate about it… "But Professor Slughorn obviously likes you the best…"_

_"Well I don't know why that is, because your potions turn out better than mine." Lily argued in the kindest voice possible, which seemed to make the boy next to her melt and nearly drop his books._

_"Then it's because you're the prettiest…" he said as-a-matter-of-factly, but still with a playful, complimenting tone. Lily blushed and giggled, when a thick strand of hair fell right into her eyes, causing her to desperately try to blow it out of her face, for her arms were full of her books. Severus laughed at the silly expressions she was making, and quickly supported all his books with one arm, and used the other to move it from her face. She smiled even wider, and thanked him, but then her face contorted again._

_"Sev, do you want to sit down for a minute? My shoulders are starting to hurt from all these books…"_

_"Okay." he replied at once, having already been walking towards the wall before she finished asking. He was up for doing whatever she wanted… They sat side by side against the wall, rubbing their shoulders to soothe the ache. He was just about to mention something about how annoying it was that they had all these new books to carry back to their dorm, when Lily piped up._

_"Do we even need to get lunch?" she asked to a confused Severus. "I'd much rather just sit here and talk to you for the hour… I really hate it that we can't sit together during lunch." He was really glad she'd said that when he was too nervous to… it would be heaven for him if he could spend all of his time with Lily Evans… there would be the Lunch hour and the break afterward… two hours straight, just talking to her._

_"No… I'm not even hungry. Let's just sit here and talk." he eagerly agreed. After a few minutes of a good conversation, James Potter and Sirius Black came bounding around the corner. There was no way Severus couldn't have noticed them… they always made a deal of making an entrance, especially when he was in the room… or corridor, whatever._

_Suddenly, James put on a wicked smile, and thinking Severus hadn't noticed him before, spun around dramatically so he could slide forward on the waxed floors, and yell across the corridor, "DID SOMEBODY SAY JAMES POTTER?"_

_"Dear God, why are __**they**__ here?" Lily demanded, obviously perturbed, while Severus merely stared at them in fear, wondering what they were about to unleash upon him. As they strode towards them, James yelled out across the corridor, _

_"Hey, Snivellus! How'd you trick our good friend Lily, here, to come and talk to you? Did she see you crying and feel sorry for you? Ha!" At that, he and Sirius exchanged a high-five, and Sirius said, as he always did, "Good one, James!"_

_Furious, he stood immediately, and pulled out his wand, but Lily stopped him._

_"I'm not your friend, James! Ugh, you're such a jerk!" she told him firmly and angrily. James quickly slipped his hand into his pocket, but before he could pull it out, Severus sent a zap from his own wand, singing the tip of James's fingers so he couldn't grab it. Seizing a chance to have the upper hand, he stretched his arm out to have his wand directly in front of James's face, but Sirius quickly pushed him out of the way, unmagically disarming him._

_"Not quick enough, Snivelly!" Sirius proclaimed, with his wand now drawn on Snape, who had backed into a wall, and was trembling with near hopelessness. "I don't know why you even talk to this big-nosed bigot anyway, Lily…"_

_The whole showdown with James, Lily could only stand there, shocked… she wouldn't have known what to do. But she was ready to move wherever… When Sirius pushed Sev like that, she desperately wanted to push him back, but she knew she wasn't big enough. So seconds later, when he insulted Sev, she drew out her wand and was prepared to hit Sirius with every hex she knew, but James, now standing directly behind Sirius and not fully capable in the Disarming Charm yet, tried to physically pry the wand out of her hands._

_It quickly registered that Lily was in danger of being blasted with her own wand, and all his fear disappeared. _

_"Don't bring her into this!" Severus yelled in command, finally standing again. "She doesn't need to be hurt just because I acted like an idiot…" His expression then softened as he looked at Lily, who was now free from James's grasp, because James was currently walking towards him instead._

_"You gonna cry now, Snivelly?" he mocked. "Why so defensive… got a crush? As long as you keep __**that**__ up…"He paused, stepped a stride closer, and poked a bony finger hard into his chest. "…You and your abnormally large nose ain't ever gonna get __**her**__." Severus merely stared back at him with massive hatred, because to say anything else would be acknowledging that he did, in fact, have a huge crush on Lily… one that would never leave him._

_He hoped that Lily's similar stare at James, who had now turned to leave, meant that she liked him that way, as well. After they could no longer see him or Sirius, Lily quickly packed up both of their bags, and grabbed the crook of his arm._

_"Come on," she urged. "Let's go sit outside." Wordlessly agreeing with a nod, he grabbed his super-stuffed bag and slung it over his shoulder, then followed Lily. The entire time he walked with her, she was silent, and he kept trying to convince himself that James was wrong… Did he cry too much? Or was that just James's misconception, because the few times they'd encountered each other as small children or earlier in the school year, he had tortured him to the point of tears._

_"I. Don't. Cry." he muttered under his breath, over and over. He would have to learn to control his emotions… but how could he with a history of being tortured by his parents' fights, constant torment for merely being depressed and having a large nose and greasy hair? It was hell… and if anyone else was suddenly in his position, they'd cry harder and much more often… he was sure of it._

_Finally, they had reached the outside benches, and sat down. Lily had slightly opened her mouth, probably to say something to Severus, but he had to speak first._

_"Lily… do you think I cry too much?" He was hesitant to ask, but it seemed like the perfect time… and really, it was her opinion that he cared about, not anyone else's. She seemed to be expecting this, because she answered without taking much time to think._

_"Of course not, Sev… In fact, you hardly ever cry. And that's amazing for how much you go through… All the torment and hate… and of course everything going on with your parents; Sometimes, I cry for you… for all the sorrow left over that you just push away. James only calls you that horrible name because he wants to see you upset… Trust me, even if you did cry a lot, you'd have every reason to."_

_She smiled a smile warm enough to melt all the snow in the vicinity, and lightly touched his shoulder with her hand, which turned into a hug. While they were only friends, there was a lot of love put into that hug… and he knew he'd remember it always. Pulling away, Lily gently held the sides of his face in her hands, and planted a soft, sweet, and freezing kiss on the bridge of his nose._

_Then, whether to be close to him or to stay warm, he wasn't sure, she kept her arms wrapped around his upper body, nuzzled her head into his neck, and said,_

_"By the way, Sev… I like your abnormally large nose."_

Vesperra saying that one little thing just brought back all those feelings all over again… especially with the intent she said it with. He was pretty sure she meant to make him feel better after all the things those boys said. It was like she really knew him… like she knew what he was thinking.

He could not deny that he loved Vesperra now… but he couldn't figure out how to describe this kind of love. She felt like a manifestation of his younger self to him… They shared similar pasts, they had the same large nose and greasy hair, they were both hateful towards others, both the cause of and causing people torturing them, and were only kind to one person…

Then again, by being him, she reminded him greatly of Lily as well. Sometimes, he felt like she was there, and he could just reach out a hand and caress her face, then pull her towards him and share a long kiss, but it was only a student, Vesperra, and he couldn't do that. But then, even when he had fully come to his senses, he'd still want very much to kiss Vesperra. Not full on the lips, like a lover, of course, because that would be gross and sort of illegal. But on the cheek or forehead, like a father or friend might do.

_Maybe that's it,_ he thought. I love her like a friend… _in a platonic way._ But it wasn't really… Perhaps it was the same way he loved Harry Potter, except he was much more willing to accept it and think aloud about it.

Lying on his desk, tears dripping all over his paper and watery snot ruining it even further, he felt pathetic. He felt weak… something he hated to feel. Snape hated it when he just _broke_ like this… So he inched off the desk so he slid into his chair, wiping all of the tears and snot he could off of his face on his sleeve. Leaning and resting his head on the right edge of the chair, he took his left hand and rubbed the corresponding side of his face in an attempt to soothe his burning headache and relax his face muscles.

Suddenly, he remembered his previous decision to tell Dumbledore about Vesperra. Not wasting another second on worrying about his own pain, he wiped his eyes one last time, which had no effect, and dashed out the door.

* * *

The last thing Vesperra saw before heading back to her dorm was Professor Snape's face, in its calmest of forms. It wasn't contorted at all, and with his lips slightly parted, he almost seemed shocked.

She hoped it meant her token of kindness had worked, and not the other way around.

Either way, there was an hour before dinner, and she had homework to do. She was about to head to her dormitory when she remembered Professor Snape's advice. It felt almost inevitable that if she continued into the Slytherin Common room, she would receive countless bullying about her being "Snape's favorite." And though she was sure they probably wouldn't be able to make her angry enough to have a repeat of today's incident, she rather hated human interaction anyway.

Taking a few left turns after making her way out of the dungeons, Vesperra found a quiet spot to sit in an empty niche in the wall. It was small enough that Crabbe or Goyle would be stuck in it for ages, but not so small that she would be cramped. She assumed most never went this way, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't notice her. Her dark figure blended well into the shadows of the wall.

First off, she was assigned a 1-foot Transfiguration essay on the trans-dimensional issues of enlarging an object. As usual, she completed it without difficulty, but since she had so much time on her hands, spell checked it multiple times anyway, finding no faults. Her Charms homework was to practice the Repairing Charm. She rummaged through her bag, and pulled out one of her many quills. Snapping it in two, she laid it on the floor before her, and pointed her wand at it.

Murmuring "Reparo.", the quill instantly fused itself back together with a few mischievous sparks. Knowing that she was fully capable of the spell in this simplicity, she wondered how broken something would have to be before she would be unable to repair it.

_Maybe I should use Malfoy's nose as a test dummy…_ she thought with an evil smirk. Wishing she actually could, she pulled out an empty Potion flask and experimentally dropped it on the ground. It shattered, but the shards didn't fly too far. It was mostly a pile of the broken fragments. Vesperra hoped no one had heard the sound of the flask breaking, because the last thing she wanted was for someone to see her now.

Scooping together any stray glass and grouping it with the rest of it, she focused with all her might on the original form of the flask and tried the spell. Almost as if reversing time, each little piece shifted like a magic puzzle, and reformed as a perfect flask. She was awed, but really not all that surprised, that it worked so easily. Magic just came easy for her…

Then, as she reached out to grab the flask to return it to her bag and see if there were any other complex things she could fix, it shattered at her touch, even more violently as it had the first time. As Vesperra was now sitting cross-legged within a foot of it, the sharp glass dug into her leg in possibly hundreds of spots, precisely the same way Seamus's flask did to his arm earlier.

Thick blood soon coated her leg, but Vesperra did not cry out in pain. Even if she did, before she had the chance to, another voice spoke up from this section of the corridor.

"I'd say this would be what you deserved for what you did, but I haven't gotten my share of it yet." It was the voice of Dean Thomas, and he sounded angry- seriously angry. But not angry in a way that could ever be close to how angry Vesperra became on a daily basis. Dean was a Gryffindor; those were the kids who stood up for justice and were good at heart. He was mad because Vesperra hurt his best friend, and once she "got her comeuppance" or whatever, he'd completely be over it.

"Snape isn't here to protect you, and you know what, I don't care if you go run telling him! I've already got detention with him, sorting _deadly potions_! What worse could he do to me?"

Vesperra didn't know what to make of this. First off, she was furious at Dean for thinking that he didn't deserve every bit of what he got… and second, she was dreading what he was planning to do to her. She ignored the throbbing pain of her leg, which was bleeding raw at the moment. Dean was briskly walking towards her, but with no wand. Noticing this, she fumbled for hers, but she was losing blood so fast that she was becoming light-headed, and dropped it into her own rapidly-enlarging pool of blood.

Before she knew it, Vesperra felt a pang of pain in her stomach, herself being thrust backwards into the wall, and the already diminishing light in her vision go completely black.

* * *

_So there you have it! And for the first time, I leave you on a cliffhanger! This will be the first single day to be split into two chapters, and probably not the last, as things can only get better from here. Pleeeeaaassseee review!_


	4. Book 1: Chapter 4

***Drum roll...* And here is the fourth, and best so far, chapter! I'm sooo excited for this to be published... I'm not going to give anything away, so you don't need to panic and scroll down really quickly. _But_, I'm sure that _this_ chapter is going to have parts where you'll be all, "Say whaaaaaat?" or "OMG AWESOME" or will have to take breaks from reading to hyperventilate for a minute. Enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

Snape hurried to the stone gargoyle and said "lemon drop" before he was even within five feet of it, so the platform was open for him to step in just as he got there. Even though the stairs moved up by themselves, he wanted to get there even more quickly, and glided up those steps as well.

"Why, hello Severus." Dumbledore greeted idly without even looking up from his desk. He seemed to be busy, as he scrutinized his eyes to ponder whatever it was. It faded to an absentminded expression, as usual.

"Hello, Albus." he returned, not surprised that Dumbledore knew it was him before he even fully entered the room, as the ancient Headmaster often seemed to be omniscient. "Am I intruding?" He noticed that Dumbledore might be busy with important Ministry paperwork as such.

"No, not at all, Severus." he replied, straightening up in his chair and using his long, bony fingers to push away whatever he was working on, which Snape couldn't see past all the junk on his desk. "I was merely having a round of Wizard's Chess with myself… I had a strong strategy, but eventually I came around with my own, and I was winning anyway." Upon finishing his explanation, Dumbledore turned to face Snape with his hands folded and a wistful smile on his face, waiting for him to start.

Snape could only stand there for a moment, with a dumbfounded expression.

"… Okay…" He didn't know what else to say. As he wondered if the old man was going senile, he decided he was never going to get over how eccentric he was. "Headmaster, I need to speak to you about-"

"Vesperra being a Parselmouth?" Dumbledore cut him off, not breaking the knowing smile he always wore.

"How did you know?" Snape wondered, genuinely surprised. He knew gossip traveled fast in this school, but he didn't think it would be that fast.

"I was told by Minerva, who was told by Sybill, who overheard a Miss Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe talking in the halls, Cho claiming that she was told of the incident by Michael Corner."

"How much do you already know of it?"

"Only that Vesperra D'Monicas is a Parselmouth. I doubt that anyone besides the students that were actually there know what really happened."

"Well, here it is then. Apparently, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass somehow got a hold of a snake- probably got it from an older Slytherin and used an Engorgement Charm- and set it on Vesperra as a joke. Then Vesperra picked up the snake and students said they saw her hissing to it, and the snake went after the girls who originally set it after her. So, of course, I destroyed the snake and punished Davis and Greengrass, and had a talk with Vesperra after class about it. She told me that she had spoken to snakes all the time as a child, but it took a while for her to actually understand them… but that's impossible, Albus! Parseltongue can't be a learned ability!" Snape finished his summary of the events with hardly any breath left, and stared Dumbledore straight in the eye, but he was still waiting, as he seemed to know there was still more he wanted to say.

Even though he didn't want to tell him about this particular event, he now felt that he had to. After inhaling deeply once, he began.

"You see, Headmaster, Vesperra overheard Thomas and Finnigan talking about…" Snape hesitated to repeat the details of the conversation that lead to tears, and just decided not to, hoping Dumbledore would respect that. "things… that made her really angry. I could tell how angry she was, but finally, she snapped, and… well, her anger manifested itself as magic without the use of a wand, and caused Finnigan's flask to explode, which put him in the hospital wing, to put it bluntly."

Both men were surprised that Dumbledore hadn't heard of _that_ part earlier as well. Snape figured that the students would have been too frightened to gossip about that particular event. The Headmaster was too busy wondering why winged centaurs don't exist to care.

"I assume you discussed with the girl…" Dumbledore finally began. "why her emotions could still affect her magic, now that she's began training?"

"Yes, I have… and I have to admit that I'm a bit frightened… for her, I mean. She's excellent at controlling her anger, but in the incident that occurred today and the one in the Great Hall on the first day… it was just too much for her. She harnesses a lot of hate, Albus." Snape pressed.

Suddenly in deep thought, the Headmaster paced once around his desk, all the while stroking his ridiculously long beard.

"It seems, Severus," He spoke, with his back turned to Snape. "that your Vesperra is quite unconventionally demonic…"

The Potions master groaned inaudibly at the unnecessary pun in this serious situation. Annoyed, he planned to voice his worries for what should be done about her, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by Albus.

"So, I haven't asked you this yet, while I should have… Did you punish Miss D'Monicas? For the knife, snake, or exploding flask?"

He almost felt insulted that Dumbledore would even ask that.

"Of course not! She couldn't control herself… she had done nothing to Draco, or those girls, or Thomas and Finnigan! If you had heard what they said…"

"Who, Draco or Dean?"

"Both!"

"Please, Severus, there is no need to go into a murderous rage. I was merely curious. I'm sure whatever they did, they deserved some sort of revenge, but not death, of course…"Straying off topic, Dumbledore pushed a question that he had meaning to ask since the first day at Hogwarts.

"Speaking of what Draco said… How did you know, Severus, what he said? Obviously you must have been listening especially towards that table… and with the help of magic, too."

Snape had been dreading this question. He almost thought the man was going senile enough to have completely forgotten, but he thought too soon. The old man stared at him with kind eyes, which honestly made him feel a lot more open to share his previously well-guarded secret.

"Yes, you are correct, I did use magic to listen to them." he confirmed lazily. Knowing that Dumbledore expected him to explain why he was eavesdropping as well, he continued. "I saw that the only first-year not being annoyingly excited and talking with friends was Vesperra, and I thought she looked lonely. Then, I noticed that the others seemed to be taunting her, and truth be told, it made me really angry."

Dumbledore's smile deepened slightly in realization.

"Ah, so that explains why you're so quick to defend her… she reminds you of someone, doesn't she?" He didn't have to answer- a simple, slow blink was enough of a meaningful answer.

"But, Severus, while I realize that the other children enjoy tormenting her, which you and I know from experience can fill a person to the brim with hatred, we also know the horrible consequences of impulse decisions." His throat burned as he heard the words, which hurt to know they were true. "I _know_ that she becomes angry enough that a trained Auror would have trouble controlling themselves with such fury, and can still control that, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to help her further."

Snape understood. He knew it either way; he didn't really need Dumbledore to tell him so. In a way, he had helped her with it. He knew for a fact that she would follow any advice _he_ gave to her, and it was a start, at least. It was what he used to do, which really did diminish the number of tormenting sessions. Except… eventually, they found him.

"And what about her being a Parselmouth? What are we supposed to do about that?"

"There really is nothing we can do, Severus. Unless you want to take the liberty of Obliviating every student in Hogwarts, as they are all sure to know."

It _did_ hurt him to know that Vesperra's reputation was even further ruined, which would, in turn, cause everyone to hate and fear her worse than they already did, to confirm the girl's fears. He hated to think that her tormentors would think up worse stuff… and somehow felt that it was his fault. But what mattered at this point was figuring out how Vesperra could possibly have learned Parseltongue, and how her anger became strong enough to manifest itself as dark magic.

"My records say nothing about anyone in Vesperra's ancestry line being a Parselmouth… so I know it's not hereditary." Dumbledore informed him.

"But it doesn't necessarily_ have_ to be hereditary… does it? Can't someone just be born with it?

"Yes, Severus, I suppose… but that's even rarer than just _being_ a Parselmouth in general."

"But that doesn't matter, because we know she wasn't born with it! Somehow, she learned how… Have you ever heard of that before?"

"In my many years of living… no, I haven't."

"Well, look at us, the two people in all of Britain with the most brains, that is, except for that insufferable Granger girl, and we can't think of a damn thing!" Snape complained, exasperated.

"Actually, I have a theory, Severus… I've seen a young child like this before, raised without love, never had _any_ friends…"

Suddenly, he realized who the old coot was referring to, and it angered him that he would even dare compare him to her.

"If you're going to say that she's anything like the man who _ruined my life_-"

"Just _listen_, please. I've told you all of this before… he consciously used his magic to hurt others, even though he hadn't even been trained yet… But he had enough hatred to do it. Now, this is nearly Miss D'Monicas's same situation… except backwards. Hatred _is_ the source of Dark Magic. Without it, one would never be able to perform it. And since our… being, as you will, is full of magic, I'd figure that with a mass of hatred like Vesperra's, it's too much to be held in the confines of simply her mind, and spreads to some of the magic within her, and leaves her body in the form of Dark Magic."

It was pretty much a fancy way of saying what Vesperra told him earlier.

"Well, that explains her anger, but we were talking about her being a Parselmouth." Snape interrupted, almost annoyed at Dumbledore.

"You didn't let me finish, Severus. Anyway, I was pondering this a while ago, actually… and I think that, to an extent… the capacity for so much hate is something one is born with. While obviously, the events and people in one's life may help or hinder it, we are born with a personality. I know someone who had an extremely similar past to Vesperra's, and I doubt he holds as much anger as she does."

It was true… Snape himself doubted that he could become as angry as Vesperra could. Of course, he wouldn't have been able to control that either… the only think he could do was collapse. His anger often turned into sadness, because it was too strong to unleash on others.

"Now, if Vesperra was born with the potential to have such hatred, I do believe that she was born with merely the _potential _to be a Parselmouth. Of course, if she hadn't grown up with so much hatred around her, she wouldn't have been forced to take refuge outside with no one to talk to except snakes. If anyone else had been in her position, they may have been able to ignore the hate, or maybe they would have been miserable instead of angry. But snakes wouldn't have been attracted to them, because they wouldn't have sensed any snake-ish thing about them."

Dumbledore never ceased to amaze him. Even though the old coot was probably insane, he was no doubt a genius. But all his explanation mattered was that he could be relieved that Vesperra wasn't related to Voldemort… Except… if her anger was a part of her, in the way that Dumbledore theorized, then it only seemed more difficult to protect everyone, including herself, from Vesperra's explosions.

"So now that we know, or at least, have a good idea…" Snape mused. "What can we do about it?"

"Well, Severus, I think this is something the Ministry would deem quite important to-"  
"NO!" Snape jumped to his feet, to the shock of the Headmaster, who didn't scowl as his outburst, but merely waited. "The Ministry can't know of her! There'll be intrusions, interviews, constant harassment, Rita Skeeter! Do you know how much Vesperra hates human interaction? She'd lose control in front of them… she might even kill someone! And then they'd _deem_ her too dangerous, and they'd take her away…" At that last note, his voice faded into nothing, and he could only mouth the words "from me."

This sudden realization made Snape put on a face to perfectly match what he felt, which wasn't often, to say the least.

"My apologies, Severus, I merely thought that this information could be the gateway into revolutionizing research that would make an impact on the Wizarding World, possibly preventing further people from switching to the dark, but because it means that much to you, I swear not to divulge it."

To Dumbledore, the look on Snape's face after he said this was quite hilarious, but to anyone else, it would have been terrifying. His intent seemed to make Snape feel bad and succumb to what he almost requested, but he was appalled that Dumbledore would say that to him. Before continuing, he let out a soft chuckle.

"No worries, Severus, I wouldn't in a million years tell anyone of this without your permission. I didn't believe you ever would have said yes, anyway… And quite frankly, I fear that your Vesperra would be forced to leave Hogwarts as well, and I don't want that. She needs to stay here to continue to learn magic, as I hear she is nearly the top of all her classes." Even as he said that, his gaze at Snape omitted a soft twinkle, showing he knew an even bigger and more important reason she should stay.

"So do you say these things just to see my reaction for entertainment?" Snape bored, angrily annoyed.

"… Sometimes." He answered with a smile, which Snape returned with a scowl.

"_But_, Severus… I do implore that you try your best with this girl."

"Of course… I would have even had you not just asked me to."

"Would you, Severus? Or would you have continued to allow her to vent her anger, and only punish those who had made themselves victims of Vesperra, then give her hollow advice at what to do next time?"

He was silent. It felt to Snape as though someone pressed down on his heart-hard. So that it couldn't beat under the pressure. He felt like yelling at Dumbledore, but then didn't, because he knew what he was saying was technically right. Noticing Snape's disdain, Dumbledore continued speaking.

"I'm not asking you to punish her, Severus." The pressure lifted from his heart a bit. "And I know you feel that you're trying your best… But I know you even better than you do, and I know that even if you don't think you are, you'll encourage her to a dark path. I'm also not asking you to not punish those who torment your Vesperra into a deadly state of anger, because if you do, they'll never think to stop. But, please… do make sure that you stop her from making the same mistakes you did. I know you'll never forgive yourself if you don't."

It was easy to breathe again… because Snape agreed wholeheartedly. If he were to see Vesperra suffer from horrible mistakes as he once did and continued to do everyday… he would feel as if he were making those dire mistakes all over again.

"Yes… I will." he agreed simply, then stood up to leave, as there was nothing left he wanted to speak to Dumbledore about. The Headmaster acknowledged his decision to leave with a nod, but looked up to say one last thing.

"I'm glad you've been blessed with a student that you _don't_ hate with a fiery passion, but I hope you will not forget the reason you are here… Oh, and I want you to keep an eye on Quirrel."

Of course he wouldn't forget… protecting Harry Potter when he finally came to Hogwarts had been his sole reason for living… until now. Now that Vesperra came into his life, there was actually something to look forward to, and it made life easier to tolerate, what with Harry Potter being like a second James. But as Vesperra would constantly remind him of his past self, and Harry of Lily, he found it to be sporadically easier and extremely difficult to keep up with the master plan.

He could only hope that while he helped Vesperra with her anger, she would, in turn, keep him stable. And he would most certainly follow any order of Dumbledore's… So, Quirrel did seem pretty shifty to him… but also really pathetic. But he trusted Dumbledore, so he didn't question him on it. Assuring the Headmaster that he would, he turned and left as quickly as he entered.

Only a few minutes after he exited Dumbledore's office and began walking to his chambers, he was stopped by a student, which turned out to be Neville Longbottom. The round-faced Gryffindor stared up into the Potion Master's dark eyes, and kept his arms close to his chest for protection. Snape stared back with a strong intensity, which he enjoyed to see caused Neville to shrink even more.

"S-sorry P-p-prof-professor… b-but-" he stammered in pure terror.

"Out with it, Longbottom! I don't have time for you to hammer me with nonsense…"

"You're wanted in the Hospital Wing- Vesperra in there." Neville forced out with the tiny amount of courage he had.

The moment Longbottom said Vesperra's name, he was no longer angry at Neville, or really anyone. Once again, there was that pressure on his heart, and he rushed through the corridors to the Hospital Wing. This time, he actually broke into a run, since there were no other students in the immediate area, so no one would see him out of character. However, as he turned a corner, there were a handful of students walking about, and he had to push a Fifth Year Slytherin boy out of the way to get through.

Snape reached the Hospital Wing out of breath, but didn't show it. It felt even worse, as he already felt as if his heart wasn't breathing, and now he had to compensate for a huge lack of air with small intakes of breath. Scanning the room, he saw Madam Pomfrey and Dean Thomas dangerously close to a cot, which he was sure, had Vesperra laying in it.

Unable to inhale, he made his way to the cot. Nothing appeared to be wrong with Vesperra, as Madam Pomfrey obviously already fixed whatever happened, but seeing her like this was just so heartbreaking. Snape never thought he'd see her in a vulnerable state like this… She looked so fragile when she slept, and he was feeling extremely protective at the moment.

Knowing Professor Snape's temper and seeing him actually visibly express his worry for Vesperra, no one pushed him to speak until he was ready.

After refilling his lungs with a decent amount of oxygen, Snape forced himself to choke out,

"What happened? And why is Mr Thomas here?" he gestured to Dean, who was standing behind Madam Pomfrey as if he were her shadow. Instead of Poppy answering, Dean stepped forward and explained.

"I was walking through the halls, Professor, and I accidentally intruded on Vesperra doing some homework. It's actually lucky I did, though, because as soon as I saw her, there was a load of shattered glass in her leg and there was blood all over the floor… Before I could get to her, she passed out from blood loss, but I carried her to the Hospital Wing as fast as I could."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to look at Dean with reverence with his supposed heroics, but Snape knew better. There was no way he was telling the whole truth…

"_Shattered glass_? Sounds like the perfect revenge to get on her after what happened to Finnigan… HOW'D YOU DO IT YOU LITTLE-" He interrogated, his voice gradually becoming louder and angrier until Madam Pomfrey cut him off.

"Severus, I'm sure the boy didn't harm her… If he did, why would he bring her here himself?

He regarded her with a hateful sneer that frightened her as much as it did Dean. _To make himself seem like a hero… to get out of detention with me… Why else? To save his own behind! That's what all Gryffindors do!_ he inferred, enraged.

Ignoring the Matron's comments, Snape dropped to his knees menacingly, and spoke directly to Dean, his overpowering voice sending horrible chills through the boy, nearly making him wet his pants.

"Mr Thomas… If you're to blame for this incident, you'll never be cheerful again…"

"But sir, I swear, she was bleeding when I found her! I didn't-"

"Veritaserum." Snape decided out loud, which was originally meant to be a thought. He was just about to turn back to fetch some from his stores, when Madame Pomfrey stopped him.

"Severus! No, you know you can't use that on a student! Why don't we just wait until Miss D'Monicas wakes up and then she can tell us what happened?"

Reluctantly, he stayed, and sat down on the cot next to Vesperra, gazing at her longingly.

"Leave now, Mr Thomas. I will stay here." Snape order with a tone underlying in fear… fear for Vesperra. Without a moment's hesitation, he scurried out of the Hospital Wing before Madam Pomfrey could speak up.

"That will not be necessary, Severus. I can simply call for you when she wakes-"

"She… is _my_ responsibility, Poppy…" he half-lied in order to make an excuse for him to stay. "She was injured after having recently left my classroom.

"Oh… Okay, then." Neither of them were sure if that was even the case, but Madam Pomfrey knew not to disagree with Severus Snape, so she avoided his gaze and went to attend to another student.

He sat there on the cot, just waiting, for over an hour. It must have seemed strange, he thought, to see the Dark, scary Potions Master, sitting cross-legged on a cot, chest heaving because his heart was thudding so fast. However, whenever he felt the eyes of a passing student bore into him, he lashed around with a stare equivalent to a Basilisk's. Needless to say, they ran away.

Snape skipped dinner, just in case Vesperra woke up. Luckily, that day was ne of the days that there weren't any critically injured students in the Hospital Wing- well, except for Vesperra, so he didn't have to worry about his privacy. After 7:30, Madam Pomfrey retreated to her chambers, trusting Snape to be able to take care of the situation if Vesperra woke up.

Twenty minutes later, she still hadn't stirred… but the light of the sunset filtering through the windows and glimmering on her pale skin… just looked so perfect. If her hair had been only a bit redder, she could've been a cross between him and Lily… with her auburn hair and fragile body, and his angular, convex, hooked nose and greasy hair, and then eyes a color mixed from both of theirs… she could've been their daughter… if they had one, at least.

Snape slowly reached out his hand to stroke Vesperra's soft, shining, innocent face with the back of his thick, rough fingers… but before he could, she moved. Her left arm flew upward, smacking Snape in the face, causing him to jerk back his arm and use it instead to rub the stinging red spot on his cheek. He was about to apologize to her when he realized that she wasn't even awake.

Her face contorted into a horrible, tortured expression… an expression that he was sure he had made quite a few times in the past, but it pained him greatly to see Vesperra make it. Deep shadows were imbedded in her temples, as her eyes were shut so tight that she could have made her skull cave in. Her mouth was outstretched so far, Snape was surprised her lips weren't bleeding, and she gritted her teeth in obvious pain.

The pain he knew her to feel so often really aged her, but this… this was worse. Every muscle in her face was strained, and she was forcing her head upward so harshly, Snape feared she might pull a muscle or even pop a blood vessel.

Within about thirty seconds, Vesperra was frightening him even worse, as her arms and legs jerked everywhere, flailing and kicking… and all without her conscious control. _She must be having a seizure…_ Snape thought, panicking and fearing for the girl's life.

Without thinking, he thrust himself onto the cot with Vesperra, careful not to land on her or hurt her at all. He grabbed each of her arms, and held them down against the bed down her side, cupping his hands so he was keeping her down, but not putting too much pressure on her tiny wrists. He tried to do the same with her legs, but it was much more difficult, considering one of her kicks almost met his… nether regions. Eventually, though, he was able to lock both of her legs down with the front of his calves, by holding himself up by the balls of his feet in between her legs, then holding his legs down firm on the outside of hers.

Though her limbs were held down, she still seemed to be straining, because her arms and legs were definitely resisting, and her torso and neck were flexing outward, trying to move. Snape himself was nearly struggling to keep her down, fearing for what was happening to her. He could only watch, wide-eyed in fear… It seemed like forever, but in reality, and he knew this, was merely a few seconds.

Not daring to let go of her, Snape whispered in a voice like a choked gutter− from all the swelling in his throat− "Vesperra?"

At that moment, at the raspy, frightened whisper of her name, her body suddenly untensed, and every muscle relaxed once more… all in a sudden moment. In another, her eyelids flew open, to the great relief of a Severus Snape, and her own shock, confusion, whatever it was... showed through a light parting of her lips and raised eyebrow that Snape oh so loved to see.

* * *

The first thing Vesperra saw when she awoke was Professor Snape less than two feet above her in a compromising position, staring back at her with a mixture of shock and relief… and maybe some embarrassment. She felt his cold, soft, yet strong hands pinning her arms down by the wrists, and his legs doing the same to hers, knees outward.

Most students, upon waking up to see Professor Snape holding them down like that, would have been scared shitless that he was about to kill them or rape them, the latter seeming more likely at the position he was in. Vesperra was merely confused as to why he was on top of her like this, but really didn't mind it. In fact, she felt pretty safe with the dark Potions Master hung over her… but still, why?

Snape couldn't remember the last time he was actually embarrassed… he never did anything that anyone would deem embarrassing, and he was always so self-confident anyways. Well, he could actually recall the very last time, including all the other times he'd _ever_ been embarrassed, sadly… but it's an expression. The point is, it had been a while. He couldn't imagine how it felt to wake up to one of your teachers hovering over you… especially when they looked like they were about to rape you. Snape was thoroughly embarrassed, and ashamed of what Vesperra might be thinking of him.

"…You're awake." he stated, as it was the only think his mind could come up with at this level of humility. A couple seconds later, it registered to him that he should probably get off the girl, and the fact that the thought only _just_ occurred to him was evident on his face.

Snape immediately removed his legs from Vesperra's, looking down at them both to make sure he didn't accidentally push one knee into her stomach, and to avoid looking at her face. With both legs in between hers, he unlatched his grip from her wrists and before letting go completely, swiftly stroked her arm up to her elbows and back, then her hands a bit slower as he gradually loosened his grip, consciously feeling her tiny fingers slide by his… all in a matter of seconds, or course. But time slowed down for him then…

Vesperra felt it too… as he was letting go of her, obviously embarrassed, he gave her forearms a little rub, and slid his fingers down hers to let go, which did, as he intended, calm her down. Well, that was an understatement… it nearly incapacitated her. The stroke to her arm and hands, though it was relatively quick, sent infinite volts of electricity through her body and rendered her incapable of breathing, since all air had escaped from her lungs as she uncontrollably exhaled quite audibly.. However, her face remained its usual expression, but it was difficult… her bottom lip quivered a bit.

After fully releasing her, Snape pushed himself off the end of her cot, and quickly sat on the one next to her. Desperate to explain so Vesperra wouldn't have to lie in wonder for another second, he went out with it.

"You were jerking around and punching and kicking the air and… _your face was strained and you looked like you were in a lot of pain_…" It troubled him to even speak of how she looked during her… episode. His voice became gradually softer with the last words, because it was just too horrible. "…You looked like you were having a seizure… So I tried to hold you down, but you kept straining… _really hard_… and it wasn't until I said your name that you calmed down."

Vesperra's expression went from confused to realization, since she knew what Professor Snape was talking about, but then to horror, because she realized how awful it must have looked to him… how terrified he must have been to see her in a seemingly possessed state… but then back to her usual scowl, but with the softness in it that she used when looking a Professor Snape.

"I thrash in my sleep…" she explained, watching the light of slight relief appear in Snape's eyes. "It happens every night."

_This happens to her every night? Vesperra's entire body goes stiff and endures seemingly unbearable pain every night? _He mentally ranted, terribly angry at the Universe for allowing such a small girl to suffer.

"This… this is much worse than _just_ thrashing in your sleep… your face, and your neck…" He looked down and closed his eyes for a second before continuing. "looked as if you were suffering the worst torture imaginable… Can you feel pain in your sleep, Vesperra?"

"No, Professor… I don't feel anything at all. The only reason I know is because once, when my mother and I had to sleep in the same bed for one night, she was angry at me in the morning because she said I was flailing around and kicking her while she slept, and she guessed that I must thrash in my sleep, because I didn't remember it. She described my face the same you did... except, well…"

Vesperra didn't have to finish− Snape already realized what she was about to tell him, and he remembered easily what it was like to feel that way. _That she didn't seem too horrified or even worried about it? And instead was angry at you…_

"And I suppose I should have realized before then," she continued, as if she hadn't made the previous, unfinished, quite depressing comment. "Considering I usually find my blankets bunched up in the farthest corner in my bed, or having fallen off, and myself sideways or hanging dangerously off the edge…"

At that comment, one pining question made its way to the front of his mind and out of his mouth.

"Vesperra… How _long_ has this been happening to you?"

"At least since I was eight… when I first found out." She replied, pondering it for a second first.

"And your mother _never_ took you to St. Mungo's?" She shook her head, as expected. He wasn't surprised, but he was very angry at her mother now. Calming down a bit after he remembered something, he toned his voice down a bit. "… I think I have a potion that would stop your night terrors."

Vesperra very much wanted to stop whatever it was that happened to her every night. Though she couldn't feel any of it while it was happening, she often felt somewhat sore in the mornings. Either way, as Professor Snape described it, it just seemed like the kind of thing you'd want to stop.

Though she remained silent, her answer became obvious when she slid of the end of her cot. When she did, she suddenly remembered her leg, and everything that had happened in the hall earlier. She remembered casting the repairing charm on the flask, then it exploding, and blood flooding out of her leg, then Dean Thomas punching her in the stomach and her going unconscious…

Vesperra quickly bent over and pulled up her robes to see what her leg looked like now. It showed absolutely no sign of having recently been bombarded with shattered glass, and there was no longer any pain in her leg. Though she was grateful her leg was healed, she stood up scowling, because she was immensely angry at Dean Thomas.

Noticing this and too, only just remembering the reason Vesperra was even in the Hospital Wing, Snape asked the obvious question.

"Vesperra, what happened? Did Thomas do this?" His voice rose in anger during the second question, because if it were true, he was going to kill Dean.

For a second, she thought about lying and saying yes, as revenge for Dean punching her in the stomach and leaving her lying in the corridors, unconscious, to bleed to death, but she couldn't possibly lie to Professor Snape.

"No, Dean didn't hex me or anything… I was practicing a Repairing Charm for Charms homework, and I wanted to try something harder than a quill broken in half, because I had already mastered it. So… I just took a spare flask I had, and dropped it from less than a foot so it would break... and I assumed I would have been able to fix it. The charm worked at first, and all the pieces just flew together perfectly… But when I touched it, it just exploded… into even more, smaller and sharper shards than it had before, and they flew into my leg." Before continuing with the part where Dean showed up and punched her in the stomach, she asked about something she had wondered the moment he asked his question.

"But, sir… how'd you know that Dean was even there?"

_So Thomas didn't cast a hex that caused her injuries…_ Well, that made him slightly less murderous towards Dean… but he wouldn't be changing his feelings until he knew _what_ exactly he was doing there.

"Because when I got here, Dean was here as well… and he claimed to have merely walked in on you bleeding profusely, rather than having caused it… and Madam Pomfrey told me that he carried you in." he replied, in the calmest voice he could create with his stressed throat.

_He carried me in? But why would he knock me unconscious as revenge and then carry me to the Hospital Wing?_ Not that Vesperra wanted Thomas to leave her to die, but if the tables were turned, that's definitely not what she would've done. Punch them while they're already going unconscious, leave them to bleed to death, and no one has any idea it was you… it was the perfect chance. _…Of Course… It's because he's a Gryffindor…_ she realized in disgust. _He's just too noble to leave his own enemy to die…_

Then again, she figured that was one of the benefits to fighting a Gryffindor… They're too "good at heart" to even _think_ about harming someone, even a Slytherin, seriously. It was sort of strange that Slytherins hated Gryffindors mainly for that attribute, because if it weren't for that, they'd be just like us, and then what would separate Gryffindors from Slytherins? Nothing, and then Slytherins wouldn't be any better than them. And we have to be better than _everyone_…

_Stupid Gryffindors… don't you know that if you keep saving the lives of your enemies, we'll keep coming back?_ Vesperra thought maliciously towards Dean. However, she realized that if Dean had never showed up, she'd most likely be dead, with her lifeless corpse sitting in a puddle of blood in the corridors, only recently had her body been found by a wandering student… but not a single person would have cared but Professor Snape.

As much as it sucked to admit it, Dean saved her life. And as dark and full of hatred as she was, Vesperra did have somewhat of a conscience… but only for things regarding either Professor Snape, or something as extreme as a life or death situation. This was the second of those choices, and she _did_ feel that she owed the kid _something_.

So she decided not to tell Professor Snape that he had knocked her unconscious. That was it. Besides, he and Seamus were already getting a month of deadly detention… And for them, the fact that they would spend every day with Snape for a month was worse than the deadly potions. Plus, she didn't want to get him expelled… because if she did, she wouldn't be able to pull an elaborate scheme for revenge later.

"…Well, my leg were losing blood so quickly that it was hardly a minute before I was too light-headed to walk, as well as my leg becoming to weak to support me… I was actually lucky to have Dean show up, because otherwise, I would have completely bled to death." she told him, finishing her previous thought.

The thought was almost too horrible to bear… Snape imagined himself kneeling in Vesperra's pool of blood, not caring if it stained his robes… using his cold hands to hopelessly caress her even colder body, praying to whatever God there was(if there _was_ one…) that it was only a nightmare… feeling similar to the way he had when Lily died… it was anguish, even in theory. _So Thomas saved her life…_ it seemed strange, considering that Vesperra had brutally (but uncontrollably) harmed his best friend hardly an hour earlier… Possibly it was to make Snape reward him with no detention? _Ugh… that. Little. Prat. How dare he? Whether he saved her life or not, I'd say he deserved the punishment he got earlier, as well as Vesperra's uncontrollable explosion._

"Hmm…" he hummed, well, more of a barely audible vibrating in his throat, and narrowed his eyes as he considered the situation. "I'm _not_ cutting down on his detention…" Vesperra didn't think he would.

But he did save her life… And though he most likely did it out of selfishness… and sheer Gryffindor-ness, that was something Snape was extremely grateful for. Aside from Lily, she was the only person he ever actually enjoyed the company of. And Vesperra was the most important person in his life… that was alive. Well, except Harry Potter, but he still liked her more. Though a normal person would have immediately let Thomas off the hook, and probably even thanked him in person, Snape was… well, Snape. And he was a Slytherin… and so full of hatred that he would continue to punish the one person that had come in between Vesperra in her death.

"But I suppose I'll try a bit less to kill him." Snape added in a huff as he took the clipboard from the table by the cot, and signed his name, magically signing Vesperra out.

She took this as a signal that they were leaving, so she started walking towards the exit with him. However, she automatically realized- her bag. She frantically looked around for them, and was relieved to find it on the other side of the cot. Everything was inside it; her homework, her wand… good. Before closing the bag, she took her wand and slid it up her left sleeve, as usual.

"Sir, why did the flask explode when I touched it, even though it was repaired?" Vesperra thought to ask, as they were halfway to the dungeons.

_Yes, why did that happen?_ Snape pondered himself, as he had never heard of that happening before.

"Well, Vesperra, it's amazing you were able to fix it at all, considering you've only just learned the spell… but I have learned never to doubt your abilities… Nothing can be broken to the point where it cannot be magically repaired, unless destroyed by something like the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, or a Basilisk fang, and certain dark curses. But even a Repairing Charm can become quite complex if attempted on an object broken into too many pieces… especially since you're a first year. However, I do not know why it should have worked at first, then exploded a second later… The only thing I can think of, is that someone else caused it."

Right then, both of them were thinking the exact same thing: _There was someone else in the hallway… but who? _Though they kept their thoughts to themselves and non-existent in their facial expressions, they could each tell that the other was having the same epiphany.

After they had arrived at Snape's classroom and a few minutes of him rummaging in his stores, he pulled out a small, brown phial that was only big enough to hold about 5 doses of the potion. It was quite expensive and had taken him a while to create it… a lot of trips back and forth to Knockturn Alley, making foreign orders for ingredients… but this was for Vesperra; this was important.

"Here," he offered as he handed her the potion. "This is meant to be for sound sleeping, and would help most normal sleep-thrashing cases… However, I can hardly call your case 'normal.'… And since you don't feel anything while you sleep, you wouldn't be able to tell if it worked or not, and…" He paused at this moment, to soothe a sudden feeling of rocks being shoved down his esophagus. _This would be strictly for professional experimentation… _Snape didn't know why he needed to tell himself that, though, because he very well knew it wasn't, and that Vesperra would be disappointed to hear that explanation as well.

"Erm… Would you like to sleep in here, tonight? So I can know if your thrashing stops or not? Since I'm your Head of House, you wouldn't be in trouble for not being in your dorm…"

Honestly… she would have said yes if it had nothing to do with her thrashing. This would be much easier than having to go back to the Slytherin Common Room and up to the room she shared with Bullstrode, where she would have to face them all… and no doubt they would make some sort of comments about that day's incident. She would feel so much safer sleeping in the same room as Severus Snape than her tormentors.

"Yes, of course… sir." she answered with hardly a moment's thought, which Snape noticed, his eyes lighting up a bit, as she took and uncapped the potion. "Am I supposed to down the whole bottle, or just take a small sip?" Vesperra asked while squinting at the bottle, as she could not read Latin.

"A small sip should suffice."

She took a sip, re-corked it, and handed it back to Snape. Suddenly, he realized that neither he nor Vesperra had dinner, and he was starving. Raising both his eyebrow and his wand, he non-verbally summoned a Pie in a Box from his room, which flew into his hands within a second.

"Are you hungry?" He implored as he turned to face her and placed the box in front of him. The slight widening of Vesperra's eyes told him that she was. "I know it's not really a dinner…" He then opened the box to confirm her suspicions that it was a pie. "But it's Pumpkin."

After glancing back and forth from the pie to Professor Snape more times that one would think humanly possible in 3 seconds, Vesperra sat straighter and breathed a meaningful, "Thank you."

While eating her slice of pie, she realized that though she had gotten used to eating well at Hogwarts mealtimes, actually being offered a meal− erm… well, a pie, at least, felt so much different. The way she was fed as a child just seemed… forced. She'd be handed a plate of food, but really not that much, like the only reason her parents were giving her food at all is because they were legally obligated to. Finally having decent meals everyday once she came to Hogwarts was heaven in its own… she had hardly before experienced the feeling of being "full." But that food just appeared on the plate because it was magic.

Right now, however, Professor Snape, another human being, who she could talk to, had willingly given her food simply because he thought she looked hungry and he didn't want her to be hungry. He cared about her; whether she lived or died and whether she starved or not… and he was probably the only person who did.

Though Snape was quite famished as well, he slowly cut small bits of his slice at a time with his fork, and just let it melt in his mouth, so save the trouble of chewing. It was hard to multitask when looking at Vesperra. When she completely finished her first slice and reached for another, he set down his fork and sighed.

"Vesperra, I feel bad." Snape confessed, furrowing his brow even more than it usually was, and stretching his mouth into− not a scowl… more like a pout. This really surprised her, because even in that day's series of events or any other days, she had never heard him openly tell her exactly what he felt. He seemed just as shocked. "I gave you the advice to avoid people at all costs, and it almost got you killed…" Then, he appeared thoroughly ridden with guilt, depression, and anxiety, judging by the horrible look of sadness on his face.

Now Vesperra felt horrible that he was feeling so horrible… And the worst part was, she had a hard time thinking of what she could say to him… After a minute of staring at Professor Snape with a face as equally saddening as him, she spoke up.

"But I didn't… Don't feel so bad, Professor. It wasn't bad advice, it was just bad luck…and the fault of whoever else was in the corridor."

_Yes… it was their fault. But who was it? There were a lot of people who hated Vesperra…_ But either way, he knew that what happened wasn't an accident. _Someone probably followed her after she left the dungeons, then waited for the right time to attack._

Vesperra's thoughts had come to the same pattern, as she was desperately trying to piece together evidence to figure out who it was, so she could get revenge on them, but to no avail… she was just thinking in circles.

Snape glanced at the clock on the opposite wall, and noticed that it was past Nine O'clock. Changing the subject, he stood up and looked tentatively at Vesperra.

"I believe you should be getting to sleep, Vesperra."

"Yes…" she agreed… As if she _couldn't_ agree with everything Professor Snape said. Ever. "I Should. All that pie, especially, has made me quite tired." She walked with the Potions Master into his quarters, which was quite what she expected. It was a decent-sized, dungeon-like room, and everything was extremely dark. The blankets and sheets on his bed were black, the curtains were black, the rug was black, all the furniture was black… and his wardrobe was open, showing his outfits for the next week; all black robes.

There were a few Dark looking items on a table near the window that looked intriguing to Vesperra, though she didn't dare ask what they were. The only picture frame in the room was one on his beside table, but she couldn't really make out who it was of. She could only tell that it was someone with almost Weasley-red hair and someone with jet-black hair, who she guessed was a younger Professor Snape. Just to be safe, she didn't ask about that, either.

Snape stood in silence as Vesperra looked around, as he expected she would. He couldn't help but notice that her eyes were glued to one thing for several seconds; the picture of him and Lily as children. It was the one precious item to him in the entire world… all the rest of his belongings could be destroyed, for all he cared, as long as he still had that picture.

Lily was still too personal to tell Vesperra about. His heart ached for the day that he would finally see her again, and even more so when Vesperra was around. Having Vesperra was probably the closest thing, besides Lily; of course, he had ever come to loving something. But he wasn't just going to tell her every one of his secrets because he trusted her and he felt like it… although he did trust her, very much. If she asks, I'll tell her.

"Would you like me to summon your nightclothes, or would you prefer to sleep in your day clothes?" Snape inquired nonchalantly as he paced across the room.

Normally, Vesperra would simply enter her chambers without anything to do, as she had no friends and finished all her homework so quickly. Then she'd take off her shoes and robes, loosen her tie, and lay down on her four-poster bed and _think_ until Dinner, then come back and think some more until she fell asleep. There were hardly any nights where she'd actually be too busy with something to bother getting slightly undressed, so when she was tired she'd actually be conscious enough to put on her pajamas… so this was an opportunity.

"I'd prefer my nightclothes, sir."

With a wordless wave of Professor Snape's wand, Vesperra waited in silence as she imagined her pajamas flying through the dorms, underneath doors, through the hallways… and finally she could hear the whistling that signaled they were hardly beyond the doors of the classroom. A second later, they practically appeared in his hands.

With hardly a second's notice, Snape simultaneously tossed the pajamas to Vesperra and flicked his wand, causing her to suddenly be wearing the nightclothes, and catch the clothes she was wearing a moment before.

It made it a lot less awkward for her, since she didn't have to ask him to leave the room so she could change, or anything, and the same for him. She was clad in a black, cotton nightshirt, with the pants to match. Looking around, she realized that there was no extra bed for her to sit or lay down on, so she set her day clothes on the ground at her feet. Vesperra almost assumed she was to sleep in the same bed as Professor Snape as well, until Snape pointed his wand at the empty table behind her, whispered a spell she didn't recognize, and Transfigured it into a quite comfortable looking bed. Oh, well… that would have been weird anyway.

She felt strange, wearing so little in front of Professor Snape. Not that her nightclothes were revealing at all, but it was a lot less compared to the shirt, tie, sweater vest, pants, and robes she wore during the day… Especially since he had never seen her in anything but her robes. It just felt… weird.

To get himself ready, Snape cast the same spell on himself, removing his cape-like cloak, high-neck jacket, black shirt(which no one ever saw, because he never took his jacket off), pants, and shoes, and replacing it with pajamas much like Vesperra's, except of silk.

Suddenly, he realized that no one, except for Albus Dumbledore on a couple occasions, had ever seen him without his full 'Scary Potions Master' ensemble. He imagined it must look very strange to Vesperra, to see him so out of character… And it also felt strange. It felt as if he wasn't covered up enough… like the fact that they were seeing each other in their nightclothes suddenly made them more than just student and teacher. Well, he already felt it was that way, because he definitely cared about Vesperra more than his other students… but this was just… weird. Well there's a first for everything.

Vesperra practically smiled when she saw Professor Snape appear in his nightclothes… they were matching. It was no surprise that they were black, but quite shocking that rather than intense, deep, solid black that his normal cloak and jacket was, it was a shiny, slightly transparent black of silk. She was almost jealous as well; her nightclothes were soft, but she imagined silk was much softer.

It was the little things, too. For one, she could actually see his neck, which she couldn't normally, as he wore a high-neck jacket. His feet were also obviously visible, as well as his wrists and forearms when he lifted his hands upright, since the silk sleeves fell down a little. She also noticed that there were no two top buttons on his nightshirt… _They must have fallen off…_ and couldn't help but notice that he had no chest hair, and was quite muscular.

"You can go to sleep now…" Professor Snape informed her as he finished making his bed. "If you do start thrashing, but I hope to God you don't, I'll wake you… I'm taking a Twelve-Hour Awake potion so I don't fall asleep, and I can make sure your potion works." He then sauntered over to his wardrobe, and reached for a glass bottle on top of it, gulped a mouthful, and returned it to its spot.

"Is there a potion for everything?" Vesperra asked, half-jokingly.

"Damned if there isn't…" He then grabbed the book he had been reading the other night off of his nightstand, and made himself comfortable by setting up pillows against the wall, so he could sit upright and read.

"Hmm…" Vesperra crawled into bed herself, fully covering her body with sheets identical to the ones on Snape's bed, but before nestling herself in and laying down, looked up at Professor Snape, and said, "Good night, sir."

* * *

"Good night, L− Vesperra." He covered it up so quickly that she didn't notice he was about to call her anything but her name, but instead, smiled and flopped onto her bead. Panic struck Snape. _How could I have almost called her Lily? She could never replace her… _And he didn't doubt that for a single second. But he immediately discovered why… he genuinely _wished_ that Vesperra _was_ Lily. And since she reminded him so much of her already, it was easy to believe it.

Besides Dumbledore, Vesperra was the only person alive that really cared about Snape's well-being… and he loved that part of her too much. It seemed that she had all the best qualities of Lily and all the best qualities of himself… once again, she could've been their daughter, if they had one.

After a well-took sigh, he decided to try not to dwell on it too much tonight, and began to open his book. Wait− not just yet. He bent sideways to grab the picture frame from his desk, and brought the cold glass up to his lips, and kissed Lily's face in the picture. It was of him and Lily from as 3rd years, Lily wrapping her arm playfully around his neck tighter and tighter, then loosening up, then tighter again, and him hugging her waist and pressing his forehead up against her cheek. They had been going home for Christmas, and as their presents for each other, decided upon getting a picture taken and getting special frames for each other.

The frame she had given him was a reddish brown wood, accented with intricate carvings of flowers… Lilies, to be exact, on the edges. He had given her a black frame, curved fancifully at the edges, with words like "beautiful", "dream", and "perfect" carved all over it. Often, he wondered if she kept it even after she married James. He'd bet that she did, but it was too late to find out now…

Snape kissed Lily's grinning face once more, slid one thumb over the picture with his eyes closed, and set it back on his nightstand. Then, impulsively, he threw he blanket off his feet, and slid off of his bed to walk towards Vesperra's. She seemed to be sound asleep already, so he bent down, softly laid one hand on her neck, feeling her soft hair and skin, and lightly kissed the left (left for her, right for him) corner of her forehead.

"Good night, Vesperra." He whispered once more, then let go and returned to his own bed to read.

Every few pages or so− okay, that was an understatement… Every few lines or so, Snape glanced away from his book to look at Vesperra, who remained sleeping on her side, facing him and with one arm hanging off the bed. She hadn't moved at all yet, which was relieving him greatly.

He was so worried that the potion might not work, and that Vesperra would continue to have those horrible episodes of straining and thrashing every night. Even though she couldn't feel it while it happened, that had to be hurting her physically… gradually, ever since it began. Possibly it was causing her brain damage or internal bleeding… Snape shuddered at the thought.

Earlier, he had been thinking that even if the potion did work, he might still want to take her to St. Mungo's and find out why it was happening, just to be safe… but that thought worked its way into the same path Dumbledore's suggestion about Vesperra had ended up. Vesperra's case was likely a rare one, and he didn't want the Ministry demanding she be taken out of Hogwarts for medical research and experiments.

For probably the fifth time that day, Snape realized that time flew when looking at Vesperra… before he knew it, it was almost Seven o'clock, and Vesperra hadn't moved at all during the night. Except… he could've sworn he saw her smile in her sleep.

* * *

For the first time in at least two years, Vesperra dreamt. It was clear, and sharp, and seemed all-too-real. However, instead of a dream of something like her and Professor Snape talking for a long time, or possibly something more whimsical, like him singing to her… which she would have preferred if one chose their dreams, it was something practical that would actually help her in a real-life situation that was bound to happen soon.

Vesperra was back in the corridors where she was earlier, doing her homework. Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu but not realizing it was a dream, and that she was here before, she sat down in the nook in the wall and began her homework. Halfway through the essay, her senses were going haywire, so she decided to take a break from her essay and begin practicing the Repairing Charm instead.

She repaired the quill perfectly, and proceeded to pull out a flask… Wait. No, I've done this before. Without knowing specifically why she knew she did this before, or what was going to happen, she pushed the flask as far away from her as possible in a flurry of instinct of possible danger. It practically glided across the stone floor, and before it could collide with the opposite wall, it exploded on its own; the shards not flying as far as Vesperra expected them to.

As she had sensed danger prior to flinging the flask instinctively (but only by about a second…), she was in a fighting stance with her wand at the ready when it shattered. Twisting her torso to check her left, she saw movement and went for it. She darted down the corridor to find a strictly left turn, which led to two separate hallways. There was a brief flash of bleach blonde hair, and then the supposed attacker was gone.

That's when Vesperra started drifting back into consciousness, and into realization that the entire event was a plot created by her subconscious. Rather than waking up completely, she continued to see her dream surroundings, but technically, was conscious. It was now perfectly obvious who the other person in the corridor was; the one that exploded the flask. Why hadn't she seen it before? After all, she should have realized… What person knew her enough to hate her, and knew a Dark, complex hex like that in their first year?

A certain spoiled brat with a rich, Former Death Eater Father, that's who.

Dwelling on that thought, Vesperra decided not to wake up just yet, since it was the weekend and this was a rare night where she could sleep in comfortable clothes… and in the same room as Professor Snape. While relaxing herself and drifting back into sleep, she vaguely remembered, from sometime when she was right on the verge of unconsciousness, feeling someone lay a soft hand on her neck and kiss her forehead.

Whether it was a dream or not, it felt nice.

* * *

**Woah... Is this still To Be Continued? Are we having a continuous two days(in their Universe) of chapters? Why yes, we are! Anyway... this chapter is by far my favourite... for four reasons. **

**1. I finally got to write about Dumbledore! I've been waiting for this, and I bet you've been waiting for this as well. We were all anxious to see when Dumbledore would show up. It's so fun to write him... he's just so old and weird... and hilarious sometimes.**

**2. Okay, so Vesperra wakes up with Severus Freaking Snape on top of her, holding her down by the wrists and legs, with feet in between her legs and knees outward. Now imagine that. In case you didn't notice, that's a position one would often be in prior to engaging in sexual intercourse. But Snape didn't realize that at first; he was just worried about Vesperra. She sure as hell did, though! God damnit, I'm getting jealous of my own characters. But I can't control them, guys. They just do what they do and I write about it. Before you start thinking I'm insane, hear me out. I'm not deciding all of these things they do. I just set the stage and the characters get a mind of their own... sometimes I'm typing and Draco says something and I'm all, "OMG, I can't believe you just said that. I want to punch you in the face so bad..."**

**3. So, if it weren't enough that Snape's freaking inviting Vesperra to sleep in his room that night, he offers her pie. And why is this part so special, you may ask? Well, think about it. Snape. Summoned. A pie. Even though he did it nonverbally('cause he's awesome like that), can you just imagine Snape saying "Accio Pie"? I don't know why that's hilarious to me, maybe I'm just crazy. Whatever.**

**4. I got to describe Snape in pajamas. Silk pajamas. With the top two buttons missing, letting the silk flow and leaving a good portion of his chest to be admired... and it's slightly transparent! That's gotta be the best part... he better make sure he's wearing underwear! Lol jk, he did. If he wasn't, I would have described it. In full detail.**

**5. Okay you know what, I'm gonna add an extra one. _Past self: No, you can't! I've already said four, this space is reserved for where you tell them to review!_ Present self: I don't care, this needs to be said! **Future self: Hey what's up guys, I've given up on this story and started writing a Voldemort/Harry instead.** All of us:... **Future Self: Lol jk, I would never do that.

**Umm... anyway, the part where Snape kisses Vesperra on the forehead is definitely the sweetest moment between them yet... even though it's not a romance... More like a father-daughter or friendship... or maybe not. Maybe she has a little crush on him, maybe she just cares about him. We'll have to wait and see what happens. But for those of you who ship pairings with huge age differences, come ON... she's only eleven... and Snape would never be able to love again(except platonically, and besides, he sees a lot of Lily in her, but obviously realizes that 1. she's ELEVEN, and 2. she's not actually Lily.**

**But anyway, don't forget to review!**


	5. Book 1: Chapter 5

Realizing that Breakfast started in thirty minutes, and knowing that both he and Vesperra preferred to be there early, even on weekends, Snape put down his book and headed to his shower. Like most of his showers, it lasted about five minutes, which was just long enough to scrub as much grease from his scalp as possible and rinse all dirt off his body.

When he returned to his room fully clothed and clean, Vesperra was sitting upright on her bed, as if she was waiting for him.

"…Did it work?" she asked anxiously, having just woken up minutes ago.

"Yes, it did." he told her with almost a happy tone in his voice, also a trace of a smile (or at least, _his_ version of a smile…) on his face. "You didn't move once, not even to turn over… But I think you smiled once." The last part came out of him by itself; he didn't mean to say it. Snape was suddenly scared of what she might say back to him, or if she might be embarrassed.

Vesperra knew what he meant… she suddenly remembered why she must have smiled in her sleep. It was after she had sort of woken up from her dream, and she realized that she had felt something earlier… feeling a kiss to her forehead. She had only just remembered it, but still felt it. Even now, she could still feel it… It was like a scar, but a good one.

_Wait, if I can still feel it, shouldn't it mean that it was real, and I didn't imagine it?_ Seeing as Professor Snape was the only other person in his chambers, she put two and two together. Vesperra suddenly had a rush of affection for Professor Snape… He did it. _He couldn't…_ but he must have. _But why?_ Because he cares about me. _But he's my teacher. _But he's more than a teacher, would 'just a teacher' invite me to sleep in his chambers for the night? _No… but a friend would. _Or a father…

Vesperra automatically brought her left hand to the corresponding side of her forehead where she felt the kiss. Half of her was sure it was an accident, while the other half wanted Professor Snape to see it and understand it, so she wouldn't have to directly tell him she knew. There was a genuine look of realization and somewhat shock on her face as her fingers met her temple.

Snape saw Vesperra's hand fly to her forehead like Harry Potter's hand might fly to his scar sometimes… and understood why. She must have felt it… But it's good, isn't it? She smiled, so she didn't mind. He made up his mind not to say anything about it (since it would be a bit awkward), but instead keep it as a mutual, silent agreement-type thing, like many things were between them. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"One dose of that lasts exactly a month, so you should have sound sleeping for a while… The potion stays with me, but just come to me on… October 16th to get another dose."

Vesperra knew he obviously didn't want to talk about it, and neither did she. However, she _did_ want to talk about her dream. Professor Snape was the one person she could trust, and the one person besides her that knew _exactly_ what happened in the corridors. Then again, she didn't know if she should tell him her suspicions of it being Draco… Well, she knew for a fact it was him, because it made so much sense… but there was no way to prove it. And knowing Professor Snape, he would automatically go and punish him without proof. Even though she would have very much liked to see Draco get detention or worse, this was her battle. She was going to get revenge on her own, just for the satisfaction of having gotten revenge. Besides, she didn't want him to tell her anything, then have things go wrong and him blame himself.

Vesperra nodded in agreement and grabbed her robes.

"May I use your shower?"

"Of course."

Hardly five minutes later, she emerged from his bathroom with wet, tangled hair.

"I didn't have a brush…" she explained.

"Oh…" Snape grabbed an ashwood hairbrush from his bedside table and handed it to her. "You can use mine."

Once finished, she simply said, "Okay, let's go get breakfast." Vesperra suddenly realized what she had just said. It wasn't a question, a suggestion, nor an answer to something Professor Snape said, but nearly an order to him. Well, not necessarily an order, but she was, in a way, taking charge of the situation. Was it being disrespectful? Probably not, because he was obviously waiting for her to be finished so they could go to breakfast anyway… but still, her heart was thudding in anxiety of what he might think of that.

Snape realized it as well, but realized he didn't mind. If any other student had spoken something to him in a common tone like that, he would have taken ten points from their house and there would possibly be verbal abuse. Then again, he wouldn't have let any other student spend the night in his room, so he pretty much gave Vesperra the right to do that.

"Yes, let's."

Wordlessly, they walked down the corridors at a particularly fast pace, Vesperra with her bags slung over her shoulder and just a bit too close to Professor Snape. Neither of them minded, though. Upon reaching the Great Hall, they glanced at each other quickly and parted ways.

* * *

The Great Hall was about half-full, with students continuing to enter every minute or so, but the only entrance everyone seemed to notice was Vesperra and Professor Snape's. Students from each House and Year stopped talking and/or eating and turned their heads simultaneously towards Vesperra and Snape. Some stared with their jaw hanging and chewed food hanging out of it, and with disgust at this, Vesperra's scowl deepened.

She _knew_ this was going to happen. Oh, she could only imagine what was going through everyone's minds… "Did Snape and Grease-perra just… _come in_ together? And she has her bags with her… what's she doing with Snape so early? He would never give _her_ detention…"

_…Let them think what they want._ She thought. _They'll never know anyway…_

Vesperra sat down at the end of the Slytherin table and glanced at the empty plate in front of her, on which much toast and eggs appeared. As if no one was staring at her at all, she nonchalantly began to eat her breakfast.

From her peripheral vision, she saw Pansy Parkinson leave her spot to come grab Vesperra's bag, then return to her side of the table with it. Exhaling an annoyed huff, she set down her utensils and looked up at Pansy, who was staring back with an angry, confused expression.

"Give. It back." she ordered in a cold, yet calm voice.

"Not until you tell us why you were with Snape so early, Grease-perra! Don't you think we all want to know?"

"_Don't_ call me that!" was her immediate reply, a bit louder than her normal voice. She lunged for her bag, which was in Pansy's hands, but Pansy jerked it out of Vesperra's reach in time, causing her to hit the edge of the table rather hard on her stomach. It hurt like being punched in the stomach, which she knew from yesterday's incident.

To hide the pain, she didn't double over, but instead clutched her stomach with her left hand and bent forward slightly. No one laughed, but everyone, especially Draco Malfoy, grinned madly.

"Tell us." Pansy repeated threateningly.

"He was giving me a potion to cure my nightly seizures." Vesperra quickly confessed in exasperated pain and anger. She couldn't think up a convincing lie with the distraction of a piercing pain in her stomach and throat, but it didn't really matter. Since the table hitting her stomach ruined her appetite, she forced her bag away from Pansy's unwavering arms and turned to leave.

She regarded Vesperra with a disappointed look− disappointed that her answer wasn't more exciting. All the others seemed to believe it, yet be disappointed as well… except for Draco. As she hastened towards the exit that would lead to the Slytherin dungeons, Draco stepped out in front of her.

"Wait," he said to Vesperra just as much to everyone else, since he noticed how quickly they believed that her answer was the whole truth. "I stayed in the Common Room all night, _Grease_-perra… and you never showed up to go through to the dorms. Where _were_ you?" He crossed his arms to appear as more of a barricade, which really didn't work, considering he was her height, probably half an inch shorter.

"None of your business." she spat at him, then literally spat a mouthful of blood in his face, which hit him in the nose and splattered all over his face. He shut his eyes and his mouth contorted into a disgusted pout. As Vesperra pushed him aside and continued walking, Draco exasperatedly shook his hands near his head, and whimpered,

"Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, eughaaa Pansy wipe it off meee!" She immediately grabbed a napkin and rushed to wipe it off his face, then glared at Vesperra.

Despite the pain in her stomach, she couldn't help but grin at how much of a girl Draco was.

* * *

Snape noticed everyone in the Great Hall staring at them as they made their way to their seats. Up at the Professors' Stage, even the other professors eyed him strangely. McGonagall's mouth became even thinner, which he didn't even think possible, Quirrel looked more nervous than usual, and Trelawney actually stopped her ramblings about how the sky's shade of blue today signified a death to stare at him. Dumbledore, however, smiled at him… which he found quite annoying.

He went about his business as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and sat down in his designated seat. _I should've known this would happen… Everyone's wondering why we came in together… But they couldn't possibly assume the truth. Oh I can't kid myself, of course they will. But they won't dare question me… they all fear me. They'll all forget soon anyway…_

Snape decided to check out what sort of looks Vesperra was getting, and if anyone was questioning her. He decided at the right time, because he saw Parkinson take Vesperra's bag and yell something at her, which he couldn't hear over the noise of the Great Hall. Instinctively reacting, he pulled out his wand and cast the same spell that he cast on the first day to allow their conversation to be audible to him. Before he could, however, Vesperra tried to get her bag back from Parkinson, and landed her stomach on the edge of the table.

Snape closed his eyes in a painful guilt for a few seconds… _This is my fault. I should have told her to go on a few minutes before me, and then we wouldn't have arrived together… _

"He was giving me a potion to cure my nightly seizures." He heard her say angrily, obviously in pain. Snape wasn't angry at her for telling them, because it was enough of the truth that they'd believe it entirely, and the crucial parts were left unknown.

The next thing he knew, Vesperra was spitting in Draco's face, and Draco was whining like a little girl. And he couldn't help but notice… her spit was red. It was blood… _She hit the table hard enough that it made her spit up blood? All of this could've been avoided if I just− No. I can't blame myself… Vesperra wouldn't want me to… and neither would Lily…_  
After Vesperra left, he decided to refocus his attention onto Harry Potter. He turned the effects of his spell to his table, but it was all mindless chatter… and something about Snape giving too much homework and Harry asking Hermione if she could do it for him, after which he tuned out, angry.

How was this supposed to work if Harry didn't comply? Of course he didn't know what he was complying to or if he really had to comply to anything… but you'd think a kid that was only told he was a wizard a couple months ago, and that his existence pretty much saved the Wizarding World would strive a little more to be the best wizard he could be. Guess not… _He is SO much like James._

Lily was already headstrong on becoming a great witch only days after Snape had told her… She was so ready to prove herself, and wanted to know everything. She made him explain how all Wizarding things worked, how wizard life was… but he didn't mind. He liked talking to her… But she was the best in all her classes… she probably studied harder than Granger. _Why can't he be anything like her? This would be so much easier if he was…_

Without warning, the Great Hall was suddenly flooded with owls, all shrieking and carrying packages. Snape groaned, annoyed at all the sudden noise and happiness. It absolutely sickened him to witness the half-hearted expressions these children had when they received a package… As a child, he never received a package from anyone, except on Christmas. But it would be something useless, and a card meant to be wishing him a "happy holidays" but laced with hate… He would have been excited out of his mind to find that he received a package, and all these little bastards treated it as if it were nothing. _It means that someone cares about you, but I suppose you're all too used to that…_

Half a dozen owls flew in, all carrying one package, which they dropped at Potter's table. Though all the Gryffindor First-Years stared in awe and wonder, Snape knew exactly what it was… It was obvious, what else could be in a box that long? He turned to glare at Minerva, who grinned back at him, which he answered with a worse glare.

_Giving Potter a broom? That can only mean one thing; he's going to be on the Quidditch team. In his first year. Quite a legend, won't he be? Just. Like. His father… This is only going to turn him into more of a little arrogant prat and inhibit his progress. He's even more of a James now. _Of course Minerva couldn't have known, but he wanted to grab her old face and scream at her, "What have you done!"

Snape glared at Dumbledore as well, since Minerva _must_ have gotten his permission first… With a raised eyebrow and a stressed scowl, his expression was intended to ask the old man, "Are you _trying_ to make my life a living hell?" As if it wasn't already…

The Headmaster rolled his eyes at how frustrated Snape was over Harry getting a broom, then glanced over to the Slytherin table so Snape would follow his eyes. He did, and saw a pitch black owl sitting on Vesperra's plate, presumably holding a package in its talons. Crabbe and Goyle, greedy as they were, continuously tried to grab for it, but the owl bit down on their fingers, at which they yelped and pulled back, now sucking on their fingers.

Snape knew they were all thinking the same thing he was, _Vesperra's been sent something? By who? _

_Her parents wouldn't send her anything, _he guessed, _but maybe they've come to their senses and stopped fighting, and decided to notice they had a daughter…_ Dumbledore flicked his eyes back and forth to Snape and the package, trying to insinuate something, which he realized not a moment late.

Seemingly having Apparated (but everyone knows you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts… Haven't you ever read Hogwarts, A History?), Snape was suddenly behind Goyle, who had actually managed to get a hold of Vesperra's package with teamwork.

"Funny, the name on the card doesn't _say_ it belongs to you, Goyle." The fat boy stiffened in fear at the sound of Snape's voice, as did everyone else at the table. In a flash, he swiped the package from Goyle's hands and tucked it in his coat. Eyeing Blaise fiercely, he continued, "And let that poor bird go, Zabini." He had been nearly strangling the owl to keep it from attacking Crabbe and Goyle while they took the package, and as it flew away, it pooped directly on his head.

Snape was now headed to the Slytherin Common Room to get to the dorms and deliver Vesperra's package to her… _What could it possibly be?_ He was obviously going to respect Vesperra's privacy and not open it, _but I guess I'll just see who sent it._ Retrieving the package from his inner coat pocket, he read the corner of the card that was tied to it: _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_.

_Dumbledore? What could he possibly have to give her? He pondered this deeply as he made his way through the corridors. He's a compassionate man, after all, he showed me sympathy when no one else would… and I'm sure he wants to help her if I can't… but that doesn't give me __**any**__ clues as to what this could be…_

Soon, he reached the Common Room and stopped in his tracks. It had been a while since he'd been in here… he remembered sitting on the chair that was just to his left and "doing his homework", where eventually he actually made some friends, but ones whose only interest was to hurt Gryffindors… Snape didn't really mind, as they deserved it, but Lily hated it, so he tried to tell them to stop, but he couldn't even stand up to his own friends…

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, he strode further into the room, hoping to find Vesperra.

* * *

For a minute, Vesperra wondered why no one had asked her about what happened in the hallway yesterday. With the speed that gossip traveled at Hogwarts, she figured everyone in the school would have known about it within a day, even though it was strictly between her, Madam Pomfrey, Dean Thomas, and Professor Snape… and _Draco_. That made it obvious− no one at her table needed to ask, because Draco already told them. And they were probably angry at her for not getting seriously injured as Draco intended. They were probably angry at Dean as well, for getting in the way and saving her when she could've easily died.

Or maybe… Dean wasn't there by coincidence. Maybe he and Draco were in on it together… and Draco wanted Vesperra to live, so he could pull further revenge on her. It suddenly seemed extremely possible, and a much better explanation to how Dean just "happened" to find her. Then again, he still might have just happened upon Vesperra by accident, coincidentally seconds after Draco did. No matter… she'd find that out later, when she'd interrogate him and exact her revenge.

Considering she had just spit in his face, she assumed Draco would be the first one back down in the Slytherin Common Room, ready to confront Vesperra. But this time, she'd be there first− Hiding behind the edge of the wall, just as Draco was, ready to pounce on him. Once she made it back to the Common Room, she made her way to the end of it where a stone corridor forked into the paths to the girl's and boy's dorms, and found a good, dark corner.

There was a one-brick layer wall separating the two sections of the Slytherin Dungeons, so the edge near the connecting archway was perfect. No one could see her from any angle unless they were on the other side, which no one was, and she could hear everything with ease. There was nothing to hear at the moment, but she could wait. She could wait forever…

Luckily, she didn't have to. Within ten minutes, she could hear fast-paced footsteps growing louder, until they were so close she knew they were in the Common Room. It had to be Draco… it was only one set of footsteps, and Vesperra knew he'd want to come back alone. The footsteps stopped for a good minute, but then started back up again.

She held her wand at the ready, prepared a fighting stance, and waited until the footsteps were only feet behind her…

And with a loud whip of her hair and robes against the stagnate air of the dungeons, she twisted around and grabbed a fistful of Draco's robes, slamming him against the other side of the wall she'd been hiding behind. Except it wasn't Draco. Vesperra wasn't holding the collar of Draco's robes, nor was she staring into his terrified face.

A moment too late, she was horrified to realize that she had attacked and cornered Professor Snape, and was now staring at the blackness of his jacket; the section that covered his stomach, and clutched the lower part of his jacket, which was dangerously close to his crotch.

* * *

Rather than leaping back at this realization, Vesperra was frozen in place, though she wished she wasn't. Without shifting any other part of her body, she tilted her head back slightly and slowly moved her gaze upward, to Professor Snape's face. He appeared just as shocked as she was, but rather than in the fearful way that Vesperra was, he mostly just felt quite uncomfortable with Vesperra clutching that area.

Finally, she released her grasp, but without relaxing the rest of her arm, took a huge step back. For at least a full minute, they only stared at each other blankly, until Vesperra decided to speak up.

"…I thought you were someone else… coming back to taunt me some more." she quickly half-lied, quite regretfully, as she had never lied to him before. _Okay, this is really awkward. I hate this. I hate this. I'd rather have been attacked by Draco a second time…_ She was the kind of person that avoided an awkward moment at all costs. Honest to God, she would have preferred a life-or-death situation to an awkward one. And lately, she seemed to be ending up in a lot of awkward situations. All of which involved her and Professor Snape in… weird positions.

Snape was glad she planned on fighting, but still appeared suddenly disheveled from what just happened. For one, she was holding a place that was _much_ to close to… there. And then, of course, she had pushed him with enough force to cause his spine to vibrate upon impact. Sure, he wasn't heavy at all for his age, and he had his senses off-guard, so he wasn't trying to resist, but either way, she was an eleven year old girl and he was a grown man. Obviously, he never judged her powers on her size, but physical strength was different. Perhaps it was just one of those "In a blind fury" or "You think it's so, so it's so" moments.

He relaxed his stiffened body and stepped toward her, extending the arm holding the package. Vesperra stared at it dumbly, not sure of what was going on.

"This came for you." he stated in a huff. It was the first time he breathed since Vesperra had surprised him, and he welcomed air to once again enter his lungs.

She had expected Professor Snape's reason for coming down to the Common Room to be more important, but not as shocking. Never would she ever expect to be sent a package… and she could only assume it would be from her parents. But it couldn't be… why would they send her anything? But who else could it be?

Vesperra took the package in her hands and felt the paper wrappings. It was rectangular and less than an inch thick… Reading the card saying who sent it, she spoke aloud without looking at Professor Snape,

"It's from the Headmaster…" _He has a lot of middle names… But what would he want to give me? I've never even spoken to him…_

Snape watched as she carefully unsealed the edges, obviously not wanting to rip anything that might be inside. Once one edge was open, she slid out a dark green book and a small envelope. There was a latch on one side of the book, so he assumed it was a journal. Vesperra seemed just as confused as he was, but decided not to form any judgments until she read the note. She read aloud.

"Vesperra, this is a two-way notebook. Its correspondent belongs to Severus Snape, whom I noticed you are quite fond of. As Severus is first and foremost _my_ 'lieutenant', as you might call it, I do not wish for him to physically spend most of his time with you. However, I understand both of your situations and give you this notebook as a means of communication with him. If you have questions about how to use it, you can ask Severus. Sincerely, Albus."

As Vesperra turned the journal around to its front in awe, revealing a silver 'S' on the latch, Snape inhaled sharply and suddenly. He knew what it was…

"That used to be mine, when I was a child…" he half-whispered, reaching out for the journal to have a closer look, then Vesperra handed it to him. He opened it and began flipping through the pages, eager to feel the warm parchment… for the last person that had touched it was Lily Evans.

Since Snape and Lily couldn't see each other as often as they liked, as they were in different houses, Lily proposed an idea. She studied hard to learn a Written Connection Charm, and Snape bought two personalized journals with the very little money he had. When the journals were charmed, they worked as two-way notebooks, so they could talk whenever they liked. Snape kept the one with the 'L', and Lily kept the one with the 'S'. After the worst mistake of his life, they still wrote sporadically… but sometime in their seventh year, she just stopped writing completely. As far as he had known, Lily threw her notebook away once she married James.

But apparently, she hadn't. Or maybe, she did, and somehow Dumbledore found it. Still… this was a piece of Lily that he was holding… and he wasn't sure how he felt about Vesperra using it. He'd very much like to be able to talk to her whenever he wanted without it interfering with his plans with Harry… but it just felt like he was giving away a piece of Lily.

"So how _does_ it work, exactly?" Vesperra asked suddenly. She herself was very glad to have a way to talk to Professor Snape all the time, and not needing an excuse involving her almost killing another student or almost _being_ killed by another student. Although, she still preferred to talk to him in person… seeing the deepness of his dark, cold eyes that no one else would have the chance to see, hearing his thick, silk-like voice that calmed her down in an instant… she wouldn't be able to do either of those things with the notebook.

Snape hesitated a moment, as if he might have just decided not to let Vesperra keep it, and immediately go to yell at Dumbledore. Then, he realized… he longed for the ability to have one item that was almost physically a part of Lily that he could touch and smell whenever he liked, but even _more_ for the ability to actually use it to talk to her again…

Even after she completely stopped writing, he checked his notebook every day to see if she had written. She never did. And he could never bring himself to write to her first, because even though he wouldn't ever truly believe that Lily hated him, he still feared it− so, very much. And if she hated him, having either hateful words or nothing written back would prove it… To him, it was better to suffer by not knowing than to suffer by knowing a truth you didn't want to know.

However, she did write him _one_ last message before she died.

It was the night before the day James and Lily were to be married… pretty much everyone in Wizarding Britain knew. Their engagement had practically been headline news. When Snape was hit with it, he wasn't shocked, but he was angry, and humiliated, and most of all, broken. Almost a year since he had last spoken to her, and now this. It was agony… almost worse than the fight that ended their friendship. Well, no… nothing was worse than that.

Snape had been flipping through his notebook, like he did everyday, and was crying into it. The tears wouldn't stop, and he wasn't going to try and make them. But the flood pouring from his swollen eyes almost prevented him from noticing the Calligraphic 'S' in the corner of each page flash red, and the pages force themselves to flip to the front. As if the words were being written by an invisible quill, a message appeared gradually in Lily's handwriting, which he would never forget, and was also said aloud in her voice.

"_I'm sorry, Sev. So, very sorry. You can't change who you are, but I can't change who I am either. I'm so sorry_."

It was obvious what she was referring to, but at the same time, not at all. He didn't know if she was sorry for stopping their friendship all that time ago, or for getting married to James now, or just for falling in love with James. But whatever it was, he was eternally grateful. Snape laid staring at and rereading the message for hours, wishing he could replay her voice as well. Rather than erasing the message like they used to after a day's worth of conversation, he kept it in there, even today. And he would always flip through the pages, read the message, and cry harder and harder into the book. It soaked up all his tears… he'd think that it held all his sorrow− symbolically and literally.

Back in the present, Snape decided that allowing Vesperra to keep the book and talk to him with it would be the best for both of them. Writing to Vesperra every day would feel as though he were a child again, writing messages back and forth with Lily. It would be the closest he'd ever get to that. And the girl needed him− just as much as he needed her. So, he found a seat on one of the Common Room couches, and told Vesperra to sit with him.

"All you have to do is write the message you want me to see on a page in your journal, and cross through the letter in the corner of that page. If you want to erase a mistake, just draw a line through it, and it'll disappear." he instructed coolly. He didn't mean to come off as frustrated or angry at Vesperra, but being overwhelmed with this put him in a mood where he didn't feel much like talking. "When you get a message, the letters on each of the corners will glow red, then the book will flip itself to the page I've written on in my book, if you aren't already on it. If it's closed, the letter on the outside will glow. Anyway, the message will appear as if it's being written right then, and you'll hear my voice telling it to you."

_So I will get to hear his voice…_ Vesperra was relieved at the thought.

"After it's sent, you can cross a diagonal line through the whole thing to get rid of it, or just keep it, if you want."

"Sir… how did Dumbledore know…?" she asked, half-curious, though she might have had an idea.

Snape let out sort of a scoff. "Oh, he knows everything that goes on in this castle. Sometimes, a little more than he needs to."

"Well, can you tell him I said 'thank-you'?"

"Of course."

Echoing through the dungeon corridors, they could both suddenly hear collective footsteps and voices talking over each other, and it was becoming louder by the second.

Realizing it must be a group of the Slytherin kids returning from Breakfast, he decided his presence would get Vesperra teased further, and then something worse when he left.

"I should leave." Vesperra nodded her head, agreeing that she'd rather not be caught talking to him alone, which would definitely get her in some trouble later. "−Also, could I borrow the journal for a day? It's just… a lot of memories, and before just ten minutes ago I thought it was gone forever, and I'd like to have it back… just for a day. But after then, I want you to keep it."

She understood completely, even though she herself had never owned an object that was actually precious to her. Well, after tomorrow, she would.

"Okay." Vesperra handed him the book, which he gripped tightly in his hand. "Goodbye, Professor."

"Goodbye, Vesperra." And with a _swoosh_ of his cloak, which nearly smacked her in the face, he turned around and left, reaching the exit just as the group of Slytherins arrived. Vesperra was quick to get halfway down the left corridor to her dorm before anyone could've seen her and assumed she was there with Snape.

* * *

As he practically glided out of the Common Room, the crowd of Slytherins immediately opened up a path for him, like they always would, but still in shock wondering why he would even be down there.

Snape couldn't believe he was finally holding this again… He was undeniably happy enough for tears, but also quite angry at Dumbledore for sending it to Vesperra without his permission. Even though he _now_ wanted her to have it… _Ugh, how could he be so selfish?_ he thought at Dumbledore, hoping he was listening through legillimency. Yes, that's where he'd go immediately; Dumbledore's office. Breakfast was over, so he'd likely be in there… In fact, he probably knew Snape was coming, and even intended the entire scene back there with Vesperra… He was known to do that sort of thing.

Minutes later, Snape arrived in the Headmaster's office. When the old man noticed the book in his hand, he smiled warmly, and waited for Snape to speak.

He had a million questions, but it was difficult to choose which one to ask first.

"_How_ did you get this?" Snape asked desperately in a hoarse voice, pre-tear eyes searching for an answer on Dumbledore's face. "Did she give it to you?"

"Oh… No, Severus, she didn't. In fact, she kept it until she died. And I do believe she would have kept it beyond death if solid objects could be taken into the afterlife." He stopped to see if Snape wished to interject, but he didn't. Instead, his eyes began to moisten, and he stared yearningly for Dumbledore to continue. "A few days after her death, and Harry was already with the Dursleys, I took a portkey to their home in Godric's Hollow, just in case any important items were left behind. I gave all the pictures in frames to their closest family… speaking of which, she kept the picture of you and her that you gave her one Christmas."

Unable to speak, Snape mouthed the words, "She did?" and suddenly avoided Dumbledore's eyes. He breathed heavily for many silent seconds, trying to comprehend this sudden, overwhelming information. It was really just a record on repeat in his mind… _She loved me._ Then why did she marry that douchebag? _But why else would she keep it?..._

"Sadly, though, I do not have it. I only know of it because one day, when I had made my routine visit from the Order to them, the subject of Death Eaters arose, and it was known, then, that you had officially become one." Snape cringed in regret and remorse at the mention of that. "Lily divulged that she wished _so_ much that you hadn't been thrown into that life, unable to squirm out of it. She showed me the picture in her room, which she kept a Disillusionment Charm on to make sure James never saw it. When I checked their home post-Voldemort, there were shattered glass and singed woodchips near her bed, which I can only assume was that picture."

_Thrown into that life, unable to squirm out of it…_ her supposed words were resonant in his mind. _It's true… that's how it was. I didn't just decide to be a Death Eater because I was evil and wanted power! I just wanted justification, a sense of a family… and maybe I did want a bit of power, but only because I had always been the victim. Mostly, I didn't know what I wanted, only that I didn't want to be the victim anymore… But I was nearly sold to Voldemort before I even reached Hogwarts. And I just made the easy choice, and was too __**stupid**__ to realize what I had done until it was too late. The circumstances of my life forced me into it with narrow chances of escape. If only we both had realized that earlier…_

"Returning to the topic of the book…" continued Dumbledore, "Along with the broken picture, much of the house, save a few lucky items, was scorched and strewn about… and in a pile of soot and blackened clothes and wood, next to their destroyed dresser, was the notebook, completely unscathed. I knew it was Lily's, but as I found nothing inside it, even _I_ was perplexed, for some time as to what it did. I dared not write in it, but eventually I did figure out its function."

Snape was about to ask how, but then a more important question came to mind.

"Albus, the way you described it, it seemed that Voldemort must have shot The Curse at her, but missed and hit the dresser… So how was the book not destroyed? It couldn't have been _that_ magically protected…"

"Oh, but it was, Severus. You recall me telling you that Lily's love for her son protected him? Well, as it was love that blocked the Killing Curse from Harry, it was love that protected the book in her dresser drawer." Snape practically fell into a trance, since his eyes weren't focused on Dumbledore, but he was still listening to him. "However, rather than a love in which she was willing to sacrifice herself for it, it was remorseful love for the person it represented. She definitely regretted never sending that last message."

His heart stopped. _Last message?_ "What?"

"Check in the very back, Severus." he advised.

He did, anxiously, but saw nothing. Then, he noticed a flap sticking out of the last page… it was stuck together. Slowly, he peeled apart the pages, and on the last page, there was a decent sized paragraph in Lily's handwriting. Feeling the inner sides of the pages, he noticed that they felt as is they had been wet and dried many times… _tears_. But the unsent message wasn't blurred or faded at all. Not even after ten years.

Without further hesitation, he read:

_Severus, it's been so long since I've spoken to you… I haven't given up on you. It felt like I had, and that felt horrible. Oh, I never forgave myself for never forgiving you. If I had only been less stubborn, I do believe you would have been able to resist him. I'm still sorry._

He felt like his body was suddenly starting to float away from his mind, and the words on the page were the only thing keeping his feet on the ground. Snape read the message over and over again, eyes scanning the page with such ferocity and strain that his sockets burned with friction. Eventually, he just closed his eyes and let a single tear roll off his nose and fall to the page. After reading it once more, very slowly, he paused, then took a quill from Dumbledore's desk without asking. He then crossed a line through the 'S' in the corner of the page, sending it to his own journal, then crossed another through the message itself, and closed the book.

Dumbledore gave him a slightly puzzled look, to which he explained, "Vesperra can't know. Just− not yet… Do you know when Lily wrote that?"

"I'm sorry to say that I don't… I, as well, would very much like to know. It would have been _quite_ the tragedy if the only reason it wasn't sent, was that she died the night she wrote it."

"It was _already_ a tragedy." Snape said harshly. He was suddenly very angry, but also very desperate to know if Dumbledore's suggestion was correct. However, he didn't want to believe it, if it _were_ true. If it was, then that would mean Lily knew she was in danger that night, and she only wanted to make sure he knew before she died. _But Lily's not like that…_ This proved that, at times, Lily was just as insecure as he was. He imagined her writing it around the time it became well known that he was a Death Eater… then staying up every night after, contemplating whether she should send it or not…

"Yes." was Dumbledore's only reply.

"Why didn't you give it to me when you found it? Or even _tell_ me?" Snape demanded, lashing out. "Or _ask_ me before you sent it to Vesperra?"

"Having only just put all the Darkness behind you, I didn't think you mature enough."

_Mature enough? What's the old man on about?_

"You've always been unstable, Severus… but more so than ever, then. I feared you might have read it and killed yourself, wanting a faster way back to her. Of course, you proved to be stabling very much in the past ten years, but I had already made a decision not to let you know about the journal until Harry Potter came to Hogwarts. Don't ask me why, but I have my reasons. I did _not_, however, foresee your relationship with Vesperra. It was lucky it happened, though, because that left it easier for me."  
Snape trusted Dumbledore, and even agreed that he might have killed himself then, but that still left one thing.

"You still could have shown me beforehand and _asked_ me about giving it to Vesperra… I would have said 'yes.'"

"Would you? You wouldn't have gotten angry at me, then insisted you keep it? Well, it seems my presumptions were wrong…"

He shut up after that. Ugh, Dumbledore had a really annoying way of proving him wrong. Giving the Headmaster one last scowl before he started to leave, he said, "Oh, and Vesperra says 'Thank you.'" and skulked back to his chambers.

Once there, he rushed to his pillow, and pulled out his dark green journal, with the 'L' on the latch glowing red and struggling to open on its own, but to no avail. It had to wait for Snape to undo it, which he did after taking a deep breath. The pages flipped one by one, faster than his eyes could process, to the last page. Suddenly, the echoes of Lily's voice filled his chambers… or his mind, at least.

Instead of reading along with her voice, he immediately arched his neck backward and closed his eyes to just hear her voice, and focus on absolutely nothing else. When it was over, he wished with all his might that he could listen to it just once more, but the journal didn't work like that. Everything considered, this wasn't just a charmed notebook; it was priceless, and he wouldn't dare try to make any changes to it, for he wasn't sure what would happen.

It felt so tragically ironic that the last words he should ever hear her say were an apology, when he was never able to properly apologize himself… He'd speak to either nothingness or her picture everyday, hoping she could hear him, wherever she was… Saying simple, yet awfully true and meaningful things… "I love you… so much." "I miss you, Lily, my Love…" and most importantly, "I'm sorry, for all the things I've done. _Please_ forgive me…" He didn't go into detail, for he hated to bring up the agonizing memories that would haunt him forever.

While he was sure, somehow, that Lily heard every word he said, one of his greatest regrets was that he never had a chance to say any of it to her when she was alive.

For the next few hours, he flipped through every page, feeling them against his face to feel Lily closer to him. Sometimes he'd stay on one page for a while, and just lay with his face in it, and then after kissing it, move onto the next. He might have imagined it, but breathing in the scent of the book smelt _just_ like… Lilies.

Soon after reading the message through for the trillionth time, Snape decided that this wasn't helping him. It was doing the exact opposite of that. He still had duties; he still had _protecting_ Harry to focus on. After one last kiss to the cover, he put the two books under his pillow, and took to grading papers. Harry Potter's, of course, was a clear example of how little he actually tried. It was hardly decent, and he obviously didn't pay the slightest bit of attention during that lesson. He gave Potter's essay a D, though it wasn't completely Dreadful. But there was no doubt that the little effort put into it was just help from Granger.

Lunch passed, and there was nothing left to do but return to the journal− _No._ He'd take to patrolling the corridors, and make a nightly habit of it. Snape needed to stay on top of anything Quirrel might be up to that would make Dumbledore suspicious…

* * *

_Well, there goes my plan._ Vesperra seethed as she slammed the door to her dorm. Then again, Draco never came in on his own anyway, so if Professor Snape hadn't shown up, it would've been even worse… How was she supposed to get revenge on Draco now? She'd definitely have to get him alone… But maybe she could do it without confronting him. _So, what? Poison his drink? Hex him? No, he's always traveling with those idiots, Crabbe and Goyle…_ It was times like this that she _really_ wished she owned an Invisibility Cloak or something… but she didn't, so she'd have to make the best of what she had.

But what did she have? Nothing… except her Slytherin-ness. That was it, then. Vesperra's week was set. She'd put the Sly in Slytherin, and get some awesome revenge.

* * *

**I love this chapter, but it was really difficult to write. It was so sad... I actually cried a few times while writing it. **

**PLEEEEEEEAAAAASE Review! I Siriusly have only 1 reveiw on this story, and that makes me really frustrated, because I see crummy one-chapter stories lacking grammar with tons of reviews. _**


	6. Book 1: Chapter 6

**Omg, finally! I know this took a while, but I've been pretty stressed out lately with school and such... which, ironically, helped me write a lot of this chapter. Confused? Well, you'll understand what I mean when you read it. Also, this is the longest chapter yet! I hope my chapters don't get progressively longer... Oh, and one more thing: I'll warn you that there isn't much Snape in this one. I won't get into details here, but this chapter's main focus is Vesperra. Don't get discouraged though, because the reason for that is because the intricate details of what Snape is doing at this time isn't important. Plus, it's necessary we get this deep into Vesperra's life, because it'll all tie together in future chapters. Also, if you're a strong supporter of animal rights, you might be offended by this chapter. I suggest you get over it and read it anyway, because this chapter is important.**At first, Vesperra thought of humiliating Draco severely… but that wasn't enough. She needed to physically hurt him for revenge, and it had to be without him−or anyone else−knowing it was her. But to do that, she'd have to learn a hex… a good one. They weren't taught hexes yet, not even in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Quirrel was always rambling on nervously about vampires and she could hardly understand a word he said anyway.

* * *

So, she checked out the library. There were titles like _Pranking Tactics: Simple Jinxes and Hexes_, _Hexes Everyone Should Know_, and _Guide to Mildly Destructive Spells_. Vesperra grabbed a few, and headed to an empty table, far from anyone else. Of course, besides Granger and some Ravenclaws, she was the only one in the library during the weekend.

Each book mostly contained the same spells… useless things that would simply cause boils or their teeth to grow a whole lot or encase their head inside a pumpkin. The only thing of any use she could find was the Body-Bind Hex, _Petrificus Totalus_… and even _that_ wouldn't do any real harm… and he'd be able to see what she was doing. However, she made a mental note to remember it, as it might come in handy.

Eventually, she also came across _Obliviate_, the Memory Loss Charm, and figured it would be useful in the future, but not now. Vesperra wanted Draco to remember his pain… otherwise, what was the use of causing it in the first place? No… none of this would do. She needed more than a simple hex to _really_ hurt Draco. And the only place she would find such spells was the Restricted Section.

As everyone knew, you need a teacher's permission to go in the Restricted Section… and what teacher would give her permission? She was sure that as soon as the words "Restricted Section" came out of her mouth, that would be a red flag that a horrific death was just _waiting_ to happen. Well… except for Professor Snape. He trusted her completely… _No. That's out of the question…_ She absolutely refused to involve Professor Snape in her scheme… he was the last person she'd want to manipulate.

Instead, Vesperra continued to check out more spellbooks, and made it a point to learn any remotely useful ones, even if they weren't that dangerous. Still, she could find nothing that would do harm comparable to what Draco did to her. She assumed he must have learned whatever curse he used from his father… along with many others. Then, she couldn't help but wonder if her mother knew much about the Dark Arts, and if she might have taught her some if she asked. After all, her mother had been in Slytherin as well…

The next couple weeks were the most stressful she had ever experienced. Of course, her past was filled with _traumatizing_ experiences… but this was a lot of work. Learning magic came easily to her, but this was more than that. It was thinking, plotting, using every ounce of your energy everyday and still coming up with nothing… But the thing that kept her somewhat sane was being able to use the two-way journal and talk to Professor Snape.

He had approached her at the beginning of Breakfast on Sunday, before any of the other Slytherin first years were there, and gave her the journal.

"You can write anytime, but I'm always busy after curfew, so you shouldn't expect me to answer too quickly when it's late." he whispered, hardly moving his lips so that no one other than Vesperra could tell he was talking.

"But if we're talking late at night, couldn't your voice wake everyone else up? Or Millicent, at least?" It was really a false worry… Vesperra knew his voice to be soothing, and the kind that would charm someone to sleep… or keep them asleep.

"It's charmed so only the person reading it can hear it, if that's what they want… Now look as if you've just been reprimanded, people are staring."

She did as he told her, and people quickly stopped looking suspicious.

Throughout the week, she took care to eavesdrop on any of Draco's conversations with Crabbe, Goyle, or Pansy that she could. It was only during meals and Potions class that she'd really hear anything, and it was all rubbish. All they talked about in front of others were things like how much they hated Potter, as well as other Gryffindors, new things Draco's father had sent him or was going to buy him, and of course, openly insulting Vesperra. Crabbe and Goyle never contributed much to the conversations, though. They just grunted and stuffed their faces with sweets.

After the first day, she realized it was no use just listening at Breakfast. Draco might have been _the_ Spoiled Brat of all spoiled brats, but he wasn't stupid. Not stupid enough to say anything anyone could use against him, at least. She'd have to follow him, find out what he did outside the classroom, and what he said to his lackeys when they were alone.

Vesperra first tried leaving before they would, and waiting just outside the exit. She was fairly good at concealing herself in the shadows, considering how small she was, so that was the easy part. But when it actually came time to following them, it wasn't just hiding from Draco, but also hiding from anyone else in the corridors. And it was hard to look inconspicuous when your reputation gives everyone a reason to stare at you any time they have a chance.

They'd lead her to the bathrooms, at which she'd just have to continue walking, because she couldn't be seen waiting outside the boy's bathrooms… but then she'd catch up again, and there still wouldn't be much talking. They never found a secluded spot and spoke about their plans, like she expected. However, there were a few times she found herself alone in a corridor with them, and it felt like the perfect time to exact her revenge… except she still didn't know any useful curses.

Once, the halls were crowded in between classes, and Draco had stopped to tease a crying girl named Morag, as well as her friends that were defending her. Vesperra would have felt sorry for her, but she was a Hufflepuff. When they were through with their fun, Draco whipped back around and snapped his fingers for Crabbe and Goyle to cease their laughing at once and follow him. Unable to conceal herself in the crowd, she was immediately spotted by Draco, who seized his chance and made a Beeline for her.

"Oh look, the recluse is out of her cave! What do you even do in there all day, dream about Snape?"

Vesperra regarded them with a stiff composure and an angrily perturbed scowl as they laughed and high-fived. Draco reached to mock-playfully grab her chin as he continued,

"It's too bad, but I don't think he fancies you−"

The feel of him touching her face immediately registered to Vesperra as a narrow chance, and as a simple reflex, her free hand shot to Draco's wrist. He let go, but she didn't. She only tightened her grip and slowly bent his hand backward, eager to see the sense of power leave Draco's eyes and a new, frightened one fill them. In the slowly increasing pain, he instantly whimpered,

"Crabbe! Goyle!" Looking dumber than ever, and even a bit scared, they suddenly realized their 'master' was in danger, and stepped forward. On either side of her, they put all of their weights into their arms as they pushed on Vesperra's shoulders, forcing her back several feet and freeing Draco.

Suddenly, he looked confident again, and started massaging his wrist. Giving her a triumphant smile, he left for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The wind was knocked out of her from her back hitting the stone floor directly, and her whole body ached. Suddenly, the whole idea of revenge seemed hopeless. With no means of doing any physical harm to him, no way of getting Crabbe and Goyle to abandon him, and really no plan at all, how was she supposed to do anything? Her mixture of anger and hopelessness (and also pain in every part of her body) made her reluctant to get up, so she stayed lying on the floor for a minute.

All the passersby that had witnessed the event took one look at her, but no more than that and they continued walking and talking, as if she wasn't even there. Except for one person… A hand appeared in front of her face, extending to offer to help her up. She hoped it was Professor Snape's, but that thought was unrealistic for two reasons; One, if he had seen her lying on the ground, he would immediately assume the worst, and start yelling at people… and Two, the hand was too small to belong to him.

It was Morag, the Hufflepuff girl Draco had just been teasing. When Vesperra didn't immediately take her hand, she spoke up.

"Do you need help?" Though most would have been grateful, she couldn't help but feel disgusted and a little creeped out. _You were just teased to the point of tears, and you feel sorry for me? I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me… how is it even possible to be that selfless?_

"From a Hufflepuff, no." she replied coldly, making the girl tear up a bit and jog back to her friends as she finally stood up. It might seem strange that Vesperra would be annoyed at someone being so nice when all she longed for was to stop being tortured, but she never actually wanted people to be _nice_ to her. She just wanted to be left alone… and respected. And possibly feared. It just wasn't what she was used to. She wanted someone to be nice to her specifically because she was her, not because they were just nice to everyone. If someone is nice to only you, _then_ you know you matter… to that person, at least.

With that day's events in mind, Vesperra became more and more desperate, but refused to give up, because Slytherins don't give up. So at the end of the week during Potions class, she decided against her previous decision… She _needed_ to get into the Restricted Section.

* * *

Snape was having a pretty stressful time as well. He was spending more and more time watching over Harry Potter, making sure he didn't do anything that would put his life in danger, as his father often did. The more he watched him, the more he hated him. If he was talking with his stupid little friends about Quidditch, or how bad he was at classes, or about getting into trouble, he would hate him for acting like James. If he was reassuring his friends, helping someone, or just smiling for no reason, he hated him for existing, and being a constant reminder that Lily Evans was dead.

And in Potions, he just hated him for being an ignorant student. He was rather horrible to Harry every chance he got… saying things like, "You might as well start over, Potter… Perhaps I should slip you a potion to turn you into a cockroach? You'll have a larger brain capacity then, and might be able to do something _right_."

But no matter what he said, Harry merely tried to ignore him at first, and shut out his insults. It wasn't a very good idea really, considering he could have absorbed some of what Snape said and did something right. Seeing this, Snape realized he just had to get worse. He made sure he was in Potter's face every time he made a caustic remark, or towering over him so he'd have no choice to look up.

It was this that he nearly became addicted to… Looking at Potter. Well, looking into his eyes… They were Lily's eyes. He didn't overdo it, but he'd make sure that if Harry looked up at him, he'd lock his cold eyes with Harry's bright green ones that he inherited from his mother, and for one second, he'd hate him a lot less. But then once he dropped his glare and turned his head to him, Snape couldn't help but suddenly loathe him again.

And he paid a lot of attention to Quirrel, as Dumbledore had advised. So far, he was impossible to catch doing anything. During breaks, Snape would try to follow him, but all he would do was go straight back to his chambers. Once, he caught him wandering away from his normal route, and took a detour to catch him off-guard. When he asked him where he was going in a completely casual way, he could only stammer for a bit then turn back to his room.

It seemed pretty suspicious, but you really couldn't get a straight answer for anything out of the man…

On his night patrols, Snape had sworn he saw Quirrel a few times, but it'd be for only a second, and before anything could happen, he'd seem to have completely disappeared. He wondered if he might have just been losing his mind from all this stress… But the stress was relieved in his daily conversations with Vesperra. Sometimes in the morning or during the hour-long breaks, but_ always_ after dinner, they'd talk.

Realizing he was finding nothing during his nightly prowling-about, he decided it would be perfectly safe to bring the journal with him. Still, he asked Filch to tell him if anyone was sneaking around at night, so he could feel fine about the parts of the castle that he wasn't in.

Anyway, he and Vesperra would talk about Potions and miscellaneous things… and the conversations often became about their mutual hate of Harry Potter… but they never delved into _too_ personal topics, because their pasts were full of demons they didn't want to unleash on each other yet.

And _speaking_ of Vesperra, it seemed to Snape that she was avoiding him. During Breakfast, she'd eat her breakfast in a hurry, and then rush off, back to her dorm, sometimes even before everyone was in the Great Hall. She wouldn't give him any backwards glance at all… and it made him feel empty.

Potions class was even stranger. Of course, Vesperra still worked as hard as ever on her Potions and didn't make one mistake, but from watching her across the room, her face looked more sallow than ever, and there was a lot of grey around her eyes… and sometimes, she'd be shivering, even though it wasn't cold at all. Was it with nervousness? _That's impossible… what would she be nervous about?_

Even when Snape made his routine walk around the room, and whispered, "_Perfect._" like he always did, she stopped reacting. She just continued to work without even pausing or glancing at him, as if she didn't hear him. Then afterwards, when it was time to leave, she seemed to completely disappear before anyone else left, instead of being one of the last ones out, as usual.

During one of their nightly conversations with the journals, he decided to ask;

_You've looked pale lately… Are you sick?_

_**When am I not pale?**_

_Well, more than usual. And you shiver a lot._

_**Oh, well don't worry about me, I'm fine.**_

_Are you sure? It might be good to go to Madam Pomfrey for a Heat Drop… it'll warm you up._

_**I don't need warming. Trust me, I'm fine.**_

_Okay, I won't say another word about it._

But that didn't stop him from thinking about it. He couldn't help but worry about her… and wondered if she actually felt very sick, but didn't feel like getting any help because of her pride.

One day, Potter nearly added a wrong ingredient to his potion, which would have created a dastardly explosion if Snape hadn't stopped him. So, he told him to stay after and scrub the desks… partially to teach him a lesson, and partially just because he felt like it. However, on this day, after the bell signaling the end of class sounded, he glanced up and Vesperra was still there. And as most of the students were off down the corridors, she was headed to his desk.

Seeing that Potter had already reached for a sponge, he quickly told him, "Er, Potter, you may leave… you'll just have detention tomorrow instead." The boy immediately grabbed his bag and ran, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

* * *

He was thoroughly relieved that Vesperra was finally going to talk to him in person again, yet at the same time worried as to what it might be about. The other times she had approached him after class hadn't ended well…

Vesperra didn't want to lie to him… it was the last thing she'd ever want to do. Obviously, she wasn't going to tell the whole truth, but she didn't know how much of it would be enough to make him say no. But how could he say no? He'd never say no to her… as long as she's not intending to kill someone… which may or may not have been true.

It would feel wrong to manipulate Professor Snape, though. She wasn't going to ask him for everything just because she knew he'd give it to her… but this _wasn't _everything. It was just a book… or two. And he'd understand… she knew he would. Professor Snape was known to be fond of the Dark Arts, anyways. As long as he didn't know she actually intended on _using_ them…

"Professor, I wanted to see if I could have your permission to use the Restricted Section of the library." Vesperra said in the calmest tone she could manage.

He wasn't too worried at first… Snape figured she just wanted some background reading. After all, she was nearly the top of her class− or of the Slytherins, at least. But knowing her, probably more personally than anyone else at Hogwarts, there was a part of his heart that pounded in fear of what she might do with all the books that she'd see in the Restricted Section.

"What do you need from the Restricted Section?"

_Just say something for Herbology… Or− or more advanced potions. Lie, tell him it's for expert charms, like you planned. It wouldn't even be lying, really…_ She didn't.

"Things about hexes and curses…" The words slipped out of her mouth without her control. _Hexes_ and _Curses_ seemed to shock Professor Snape a bit, as he took a sharp intake of breath and was almost about to say something against it, when she continued. "for defense. You know how many students would like to hurt me… and badly. Quirrel doesn't teach us enough, or really much at all, anyway. I can hardly understand a word he says. But I feel like there's just some that I should know… just in case."

Vesperra was glad she was able to invent something so quickly, and also that she didn't actually have to lie to Professor Snape. It was technically true… but vaguely.

_Vesperra, learning hexes and curses? What if she actually started using them on purpose? No, she couldn't… she wouldn't. She gets teased all the time, really badly, but she doesn't even lash out at them then. So she'd only use magic against them if she was in real danger. She's rational like that… not like me. There's no way she'd be stupid enough to make the same mistakes I did. _

After seeing what consequences his actions did, he wanted to swear off Dark Arts forever… but soon his agreement forced him to use them again. He wasn't entirely reluctant, as he used to be so fond of them. As a child, his mother taught him so much Dark Magic−well, by using it on him, mostly… and he grew up thinking it was normal. It was fun, back then. And most of all, it was a way to have power over others, when they so often had power over him. But no more, no more…

Everyone thought he wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job so much was because he loved the Dark Arts… which was actually a pretty stupid presumption. Either way, it was _really_ because he knew he'd feel a lot better if he taught something that was directly going against his old mistakes, instead of Potions, which was easily the class that was hated by mostly everyone for its difficulty, and the class with more troublemakers.

He might've thought for a second that Vesperra could find suitable defensive spells somewhere other than the Restricted Section, but that thought flitted away as soon as it had blown in. She needed all she could get. Many of the other Slytherin children grew up in Death Eater families, and were bound to know a lot of Dark Magic, and be willing to use it.

After a long and plaintive pause, he grabbed some parchment, ink, and a quill, and answered, "All right then, what book is it?"

That was the one flaw in her plan. It was, after all, thought up in only five minutes. Vesperra didn't know what book it would be. It very well might ending up being two or three books… and she couldn't just go inside the Restricted Section and come out with any book she wanted, could she?

"Oh… I didn't have a particular title in mind… I didn't know of any. All I know is that I want books on advanced hexes." she explained, suddenly hopeless that it would even work anymore.

"Hmm… Very well then, I'll just sign that I permit you to look around in the Restricted Section yourself for whatever books you need. Usually, only sixth years can do that, but as I am giving you direct permission, I expect Madam Pince won't give you any trouble about it."

Snape scrawled the note on a piece of parchment, signed it, and handed it to Vesperra.

As she held the slip of paper in her hand, she beamed, and her heartbeat thudded to a halt. Then, she had the first encouraging thought in weeks; _This is actually going to work._

Phase one of her plan was complete, thanks to Professor Snape. After thanking him, she whisked herself out of there so fast, it created a bit of a breeze, which was the last thing the already-cold dungeons needed.

Watching her leave, he realized she must have already been halfway to the library, and there was something he forgot to tell her.

* * *

As Vesperra practically glided to the library, she realized that that had been the first time in weeks that she had spoken to Professor Snape in person, instead of with the two-way journals. In fact, she hadn't even looked him in the face ever since she began plotting her revenge against Draco. It was rejuvenating, talking to him… locking eyes with him. Especially after all this stress, she needed that. Of course, she hadn't been consciously avoiding him, but she imagined that's what it had looked like to him.

_Well, now that I'm about to get the books I need, this is going to be a lot less stressful and a lot more maniacal thinking… and once it's over, everything'll be back to normal._

Once there, Vesperra saw that Madam Pince wasn't at her desk, and realized she must be assisting a student. She began walking through each aisle to find her, when she heard a familiar, high-pitched voice.

"You just wait until my _Father_ hears about this!" Vesperra could have heard that sentence in any context and in any voice, and she still would have known who said it.

Her first thought, undoubtedly, was, _Bloody hell, Draco's here?_ Her second was, _Yes! Draco's here…_ She _could not_ be seen by Malfoy in there, especially not with that note. But she couldn't just leave when there was still spying to be done, and this being a perfect opportunity.

She stood two aisles over, which was plenty close enough, considering how loud Draco liked to be when he was arguing.

"Oh, as if you don't have more than enough Galleons on your person right now!" Madam Pince scolded, obviously not deterred a bit from Malfoy's stupid catchphrase.

"_I_ shouldn't have to pay for it. _I_ didn't damage it!"

"_You're_ responsible for a book as soon as you check it out… Perhaps you should change your taste in company, then!"

"You've got that right…" Draco muttered. Vesperra heard a clinking sound of money, presumably being transferred from his pocket to Madam Pince's hand. "Come on Crabbe, Goyle."

Hiding further in the aisle, she kept her presence unknown until Draco was completely gone. On his way out, she could've sworn she heard him say, "I've told you, Crabbe, _books_ aren't for eating."

Suddenly, she realized that something in her bag seemed to be struggling to get out. Vesperra opened it, and saw her journal thrashing in between her other books, and the 'S' glowing red. She guessed it had been doing that for the past few minutes, but she hadn't noticed until now.

Undoing the latch, the book flipped itself to the twenty-something-est page, and Vesperra heard Professor Snape's voice, while no one else could.

_Please, be careful._

He sounded worried. A surge of guilt came over her suddenly, since he obviously meant for her to not go looking for trouble after learning this Dark Magic stuff− but it felt as if that was exactly what she was doing. And of course, he was only looking out for her. He wanted the best for her… _But I'm not going to be stupid about this_, she thought. _I have a plan. _Nevertheless, she made sure no one was looking, and took out a quill and some ink. _Just this once._

She neatly scribbled two little words;

_**I will.**_

And she crossed the corner and closed the book, re-latching it and putting it away. Vesperra bounded across the library to where Madam Pince was now, and showed her the note.

"I give Vesperra D'Monicas permission to use the Restricted Section independently for whatever books she needs. Signed… _Severus Snape_." the old librarian read, squinting her eyes as tight as they could go at the note. She gave Vesperra a shrewd look, then went back to staring at the note as if it couldn't possibly exist.

Madam Pince then took out her wand, and preformed a non-verbal charm, presumably to check if it really was his signature. Nothing happened that would have shown it to be forgery.

Seeing the suspicious expression on the woman's face, Vesperra thought quickly and said warningly, "I don't think you should argue with Professor Snape." Madam Pince changed her expression immediately, and it was now somewhat fearful. After nodding her head to agree with Vesperra, she reluctantly waved her hand in the direction of the Restricted Section, and Vesperra set off in that direction without hesitating.

It was larger than she thought… The Restricted Section extended for several aisles, and there were other students in there at this time as well. There weren't many, but they were all either sixth or seventh years. As she passed them, each of them turned and gave her the same, shrewd look that Madam Pince had given her, either because they were shocked that a first year was there, or because they had heard things about Vesperra and didn't like the idea of her being in the Restricted Section.

Ignoring their glares, she walked through the aisles, scanning the shelves for anything that might be useful. She passed several sections on potions, creatures, rare plants, Dark items, and a lot of Latin words she couldn't understand, until she found an entire aisle devoted to jinxes, hexes, and curses.

Looking through the various titles, Vesperra found one that quite interested her; _The Darkest, Foulest, and Funnest Curses Ever Thought Up_. Just in case anyone was watching her, she quickly hid her devilish grin, and faked a half-confused, half-curious expression. She skimmed the pages, and decided the illustrations were graphic enough. She'd take it.

Thinking that the curses in that particular book might all be too deadly to use (after all, she wasn't actually going to _kill_ Draco), she picked out a couple books that didn't have very amusing titles, but seemed like they would have a good list of spells of that degree. Now holding all that she needed for her glorious plan to work, she fit them all under one arm, and stepped over the rope.

Madam Pince was still eyeing her suspiciously, but didn't question her about what books she found, and looked rather scared to ask, anyway. Suddenly, it occurred to her that _no one_ must know that she was in the Restricted Section… Anyone besides Professor Snape would have heard "Vesperra" and "Restricted Section" in the same sentence and panicked, then gone straight to Dumbledore. And with how fast rumors spread at Hogwarts, if someone saw her, Draco would've known by Dinner.

Luckily, though, no one was anywhere near the Restricted Section now, and anyone actually in the library at this time had their faces buried in their books. As for the students that were actually in there with her, she didn't think to worry about them, since they had more important things to do than gossip about first years.

The second Vesperra was out of the library, the books were stuffed into her bag, and she was on her way to the dungeons. She still took Professor Snape's advice, and avoided people as much as possible, but after she was almost killed, she always headed straight for her dorm during breaks, unless spying on Malfoy. After all, she had been stressing over perfecting this revenge for weeks, and she wasn't going to risk being hurt all over again and ensure that it had all been for nothing.

Of course, students from all Houses (well, except for Hufflepuff) still tormented her every chance they got. She was now routinely called "Grease-perra" instead of her given name (possibly because she had missed quite a few showers, with all the spying and planning…), and even a jinx was cast now and then. Unfortunately for those who cast them, Vesperra had been studying basic defense spells out of the few, even remotely useful books she had, and knew very well how to block a jinx and send it back to the caster.

But even as her daily tormenting−not including the sporadic extreme torture sessions−gradually became worse, Vesperra was almost completely unresponsive. Half the time, she was too immersed in revenge tactics, strategies, time slots, and her own thoughts that she didn't even notice them. The half that she _did_ notice them, she almost didn't care… It was a good thing, too, because if she became too angry in her mentally disheveled state, she'd lose it. Only when she was in the prospect of actual danger, or in the midst of a lesson would she willingly enter reality and let go of revenge for a moment.

Keeping up with homework was difficult as well… Now that much of her time was occupied by spying and researching, there was hardly any left for her homework. She tried to keep school a priority, though. Much of her reputation was being extremely focused in classes, learning spells with ease, and pretty much being the top of Slytherin House. And while she was hated even worse for that, it was a lose/lose situation; If she did well, she'd be teased for having no friends and using all her time to study. If she didn't, she'd be teased for finally being bad at something.

But she didn't have to be so stressed anymore, because she finally had what she needed. After dropping off her things in her dorm and hiding them under her four-poster, Vesperra headed to the Great Hall for Dinner, which she was already late for. She arrived in the middle of Draco telling the rest of the Slytherins something that must have been really hilarious. Upon listening closer, she realized it was just a highly-altered version of what happened in the library.

"…And so I _refused_ to pay for it, and told her that my father would have her fired… so she bowed at my feet, apologized, and even paid me to make up for the inconvenience− psh, as if I don't already have enough money. But I took it anyway." Finishing his story, Draco smiled triumphantly, which everyone else returned.

Vesperra seriously considered outing the truth about the event that transpired in the library, but luckily, she wasn't one to act on impulses. Obviously, Draco would have gotten even more revenge if she did, which would either severely harm her, or cause her to want even more revenge herself, and just create an endless cycle. He took humiliation seriously… perhaps more seriously than physical injury.

_Eh, I'll let him have his fun. He'll be spending a lot of time in the Hospital Wing soon enough._

Evidently not finding it funny anymore, or rather never did, Theodore Nott leaned over and said, "Grease-perra's been awfully quiet lately… Wonder what's got her tongue?" Suddenly, the table decided to switch to talking about their favorite topic in the whole world.

"Maybe it's been hexed off!" suggested Blaise.

"Maybe she's forgotten how it works." Millicent hissed.

"_I_ bet," Pansy began dramatically as everyone turned towards her. "that it's just sore from wrestling with Professor Snape's all day." Her clever comment gained her much praise, especially from Draco, and numerous high-fives. She then stared expectantly at Vesperra, waiting for her reaction.

Since she was no longer stressed as much as she had been, she had been forced into reality the moment Nott called her 'Grease-perra.' She most certainly did not ever snog Professor Snape, which she thought would be disgusting, anyway. Not that she found _him_ disgusting, but he was old enough to be her father. In fact, she saw him as a father sometimes.

She was red-hot with anger, but at the same time, amused at their attempt to get her down. For the past couple weeks, Vesperra had been smart to avoid staying at meals too long, and everyone had just been dying to get a chance to tease her to the point of crying, to make up for all the time they couldn't tease her at all. Giving Professor Snape at the staff table a quick glance, she stood up to leave.

It might have been the extreme stress of the previous weeks, and/or the evil glee brought with her newfound resources, but Vesperra didn't attempt to hide a smile and a cold chuckle, and muttered loud enough for that table to hear, "Probably."

As she eagerly exited the Great Hall, the rest of the first year Slytherins stared at her, bewildered. They didn't believe for one second that she actually had been snogging Snape, but instead, they were shocked that they couldn't get to her, and couldn't believe that she actually smiled.

The moment she was back in her dorm, Vesperra reached under her bed for her bag and pulled out the three books she got from the Restricted Section. Shaking with anticipation, she assumed a comfortable reading position and opened them immediately. She opened _The Darkest, Foulest, and Funnest Curses Ever Thought Up_ first, and began reading.

It started off with a section of curses that were mainly for the amusement of casters with particularly dark senses of humor… like one that would cause someone to spontaneously and painfully vomit everything in their stomach… Vesperra thought about that one for a moment, but decided there would be much more appealing ones to come.

To her extreme delight, she stumbled upon many curses that were the exact level of torture she'd need. One would cause extreme internal bleeding wherever it hit, and another would make someone feel as though they were on fire, and her favorite so far… forced the victim to jerk around uncontrollably as if they were having a seizure.

But her favorite changed often, because when she thought they just couldn't get any fouler, they did. The title wasn't at all misleading… especially in the sense that it would be so much _fun_ to cast one of these on Draco. And the illustrations made them even more appealing, as Vesperra could easily imagine those tortured expressions belonging to Malfoy.

Soon, she had read about halfway through, and decided she wouldn't even bother with the other books. They were much smaller and couldn't _possibly_ have any curses or hexes that the big one didn't. For a moment, she wondered why it was allowed in school at all in the first place… Wouldn't they want to avoid any students ever knowing these? But then she didn't care, and felt like she wanted to track down the author and thank them.

Glancing at the clock, Vesperra realized two hours had passed since dinner, and decided it was time she took a shower. It had been almost a week since she had showered at all, and her hair was greasier than ever. She marked the book with a scrap of parchment, grabbed her nightclothes and wand (she didn't take any risks), and went to her bathroom. While scrubbing her scalp to the point where it felt like it might bleed, images of what her revenge might look like replayed in her head… They entranced her enough to draw her attention from how cold the water was getting and how raw her hair follicles were, but she noticed eventually.

Considering the exceedingly awful stress she'd undergone lately, the shower was quite refreshing. She felt new, clean, and thoroughly confident in her plan. After drying off and donning her cotton nightshirt and pants, she used a quick charm to de-tangle her hair and returned to the main part of her room.

Unfortunately, Vesperra must have been in the shower longer than she realized, because Millicent Bullstrode was hovering over her bed like a dangerously perched boulder, with her eyes transfixed on a page in the book of curses. Vesperra could only read her square face as impressed, but she could've sworn there was a glimmer of fear in her eyes.

When Millicent noticed Vesperra, who was frozen in her tracks, staring at her, she didn't make any sort of attempt to hide that she'd been reading her book. Instead, she sat up quickly, and said in a casual-yet-weary tone, "Where'd you get this?"

But before she could finish her sentence, Vesperra had panicked. Acting on instinct and a rush of adrenaline, she raised her wand, which was luckily already in her hand, and half-shouted, "_Obliviate_!"

An invisible force seemed to shoot itself out of Vesperra's wand and into Millicent, which knocked her back a bit, but not enough to make her bulky stature fall. Her face suddenly softened and she had sort of a glazed look.

It wasn't difficult… all she had to do was think hard of what she wanted Bullstrode to forget, which wasn't hard, considering how much she dreaded anyone finding out about the books. Seeing that the Memory Charm worked, she immediately side-stepped to block the view of the books, and glared suspiciously at Millicent.

In a couple seconds, her usual dumb scowl returned, and she walked straight out the door, presumably into the Common Room. Vesperra was both very relieved and very impressed with herself. That was her first time actually performing the Memory Charm, though she had studied it the past week… and it was still perfect. It was quite comforting, really, knowing she was capable of using this, which would definitely prove itself useful in many occasions to come.

Feeling proud and suddenly full of energy, she eagerly returned to the book of curses, smiling evilly whenever she came across a particularly nasty-sounding one. Without warning, a thudding sound could be heard from within her bag− her journal. She quickly pulled it out and opened it, and it flipped to the page with his message;

_Sorry I haven't written to you earlier, I've been caught up with essays. Grading takes a while when you're thinking up facetious remarks for each of the Gryffindors'._

_**Oh, it's quite alright. How was my essay, if you don't mind me asking?**_

_Outstanding, as always. You haven't missed a thing. Did you find the books you needed in the Restricted Section? Did Madam Pince give you any trouble?_

_**Yes, I did find exactly what I needed, but Madam Pince did all sorts of tests on the note, like she couldn't believe it could possibly be real.**_

_Well, yours was a very special case. I wouldn't have believed it either._

_**I suppose not… And I doubt any of the other Professors would have signed the note.**_

_The other Professors don't trust you as much as I do. They don't know you as well as I do. _

_**No, they don't. And they never will, because they're not like you.**_

_And what am I like?_

_**You're like me. You understand, and you care. You're the only one who does.**_

_I daresay you're the only one who cares about me, as well. Except for Dumbledore, that is._

_**But all the Slytherins like you.**_

_Only because I'm slightly less unpleasant to them than all the other students… They don't know me enough to truly care. _

Their conversation didn't end up being too long, because soon, the deep silkiness of Professor Snape's voice lulled her to sleep, and she drifted into unconsciousness with her head in the journal.

Rather than stressful, the next few days were quite enjoyable for Vesperra. It being the weekend, she still avoided any sort of human contact, but she wasn't focused on backbreaking research; she was practicing curses.

Reading over the ones she thought would be the best for her revenge a few times each, she decided the only way to make sure she got them right was to practice them… But she'd have to have something (or someone) to practice on, and she couldn't just consider Draco a practice. What if it didn't work, or backfired on her? Obviously, she couldn't practice on a person… and that only left animals.

_Owls? No, they'd make too much noise, and someone would notice. I can't get an animal from the Forbidden Forest, it's forbidden. There's Bullstrode's cat… no, can't do people's pets. _

Then, she remembered from reading a book once that they used House Elves in the kitchens…

_But I have no idea how to get into the kitchens! _

This would still be harder than she thought. Though she finally had a means to implement her plan, she was stuck here until she found something to practice on. Well, she wasn't going to get anything done by sitting on her bed and waiting for something to conveniently happen. So she began to wander off secretly around Hogwarts, hoping for a miracle.

It was mid-morning on Saturday, and Vesperra was desperately thinking of possibilities whilst walking aimlessly in the corridors. She thought of everything she knew about Hogwarts… None of the classes would have readily available animals, except for Care of Magical Creatures, and those would, no doubt, be kept in the Forbidden Forest. For a moment, she wondered if using the curses on plants she could steal from the greenhouses would help, but quickly abandoned that foolish idea.

Eventually, Vesperra found herself on the seventh floor corridor, pacing back and forth. She decided not to continue to venture further into parts of Hogwarts she hadn't seen yet, and instead thought it best to sort out her priorities first. _What_ could she possibly do? _Animals… I need some sort of animal. But I'll need a lot… and a place to practice. No one can hear, or everything'll go wrong…_

And suddenly, the wall Vesperra had been pacing past shifted noiselessly to reveal a door that hadn't been there before. Once she noticed, she did a double-take to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her. It was still there. Slightly hesitating, she decided to take a look inside this mysterious door.

It suddenly occurred to her that there could be something dangerous behind that door… It's not like it was so obviously safe, as it just appeared out of nowhere. Nevertheless, she considered herself as brave as any Gryffindor, and made it a point to discover why that door had just appeared there.

First making sure that no one was around to watch, Vesperra cautiously opened the door to reveal a circular room about half the size of the Great Hall, and stacked against the walls were cages upon cages of rats, squirrels, rabbits, and many other animals of all kinds. There was a large, empty area in the middle…

This was just too convenient. She needed a place to practice and animals to practice on, and one just appeared? How suspicious is that? Then again, this was Hogwarts, where anything was possible. Vesperra was a witch, and she had known so her entire life, but something like this was still unbelievable. She was sure there were plenty of rooms at the school that would move around (because they were annoying like that), but the odds that a room full of animals would just happen to move her way were very slim.

_Maybe it's a room that becomes whatever you need it to be…_ she guessed. Suspicious as this was, it was the miracle she needed, and she'd take it. Quickly, she shut the door behind her and went to stand in the center of the room. Vesperra looked around in awe at all the small, helpless animals about to be used as practice dummies for Dark Magic… and as cruel and heartless as it might have seemed, she didn't care that she'd be hurting them. She_ was_ cruel and heartless.

After selecting a single owl, she brought its cage to the empty circle and opened her bag. She had brought it with her, containing her Curse books and the journal with which she talked to Professor Snape. Flipping to the pages she marked, Vesperra decided upon which one she'd practice first. Despite what she thought before about owls being too loud to use, she figured the noise wouldn't matter, as the room was indefinitely quite sound-proof. Besides, if the owl made a lot of noise, she'd know that it was in a lot of pain, and that she was doing the curse right.

Okay, now was the time for her first intentional Curse… that would actually do damage, anyway. Walking towards the owl's cage, she noticed it being all fidgety and constantly adjusting its feathers nervously. No doubt it could sense that Vesperra meant to hurt it…

"Don't worry, it'll be quick and painless…" she whispered as she unlocked the cage. "…not."

As soon as the mini-gate swung open, the large grey owl took flight and landed on one edge of the designated practicing circle, as if it knew what it was supposed to do. Vesperra read over the description of the curse she wanted to try once more, then pulled her wand out from within her sleeve and stood opposite the owl.

She focused all of her thoughts and hatred towards Draco into the owl's being with all her might, and with a sharp flick of her wand that could hardly be called a flourish, said in a hiss-like tone, "_Muscunoncompus_!" Hardly a moment later, the owl flew somewhat of a brief hop, desperately flailed its wings, gave a single, painful shriek, and fell back down.

It was a good start. Vesperra expected that many seventh years would have trouble learning this (if they had even been permitted to), but she had caused a decent amount of pain. But she was much more hateful than anyone else she knew… except Professor Snape, maybe, and that obviously helped.

For Vesperra, it was always easy to focus, as she scarcely had anything distracting on her mind, and that's why she mastered every spell they learned in Charms or Transfiguration within the week… But curses seemed to be second nature to her. All the hate she harbored constantly was bottled up until she was pushed beyond her limit and the container exploded, but since all Dark Magic originates from hatred for _something_, it seemed to fuel the curses. Each one released a small bit of all that hate, and replaced it with a moment of happy-ish hate. She felt… satisfied. Vengeful. Deliciously evil.

By lunchtime, Vesperra had owls flying aimlessly in circles only a foot above the ground, flopping like dead tunas as their wings jerked sharply in random directions and their stick-like legs shakily folded together and out. There were feathers _everywhere_. The first time she did the curse to its full extent and perfectly, she still wanted to continue to practice, to make sure she had it right every time. But since it only lasted for however long the caster focused, she also wanted to know how long she could keep it going.

After ten full minutes of one of the birds suffering, Vesperra got bored of watching it jerk around uncontrollably and let go of her concentration. Immediately, that owl fell to the ground and lay there, still in immense pain. She laid it, along with all the other worn-out owls, to the side, and continued to start with fresh ones. Eventually, she decided that she had mastered this curse, and if she wanted to be efficient, she should start with a new one.

But before she could, Vesperra was lucky enough to realize that it was lunchtime. If she hadn't, she might have stayed in there all day, and there would've have been plenty of rumors as to where she had gone. At Lunch, she ate quickly and solemnly, eager to get back to her practice. When she dared to glance up at her fellow Slytherins, they were still staring at her weirdly for what she had said yesterday, but didn't speak to her. Not wanting to have everyone wondering where she was hurrying to, she stayed longer than she liked, and started eating slower. Around the time others began to leave, she left as well, forgetting to glance at Professor Snape.

Vesperra walked to the exact place she had been before, but there was no door anymore. Confused for a moment, she then thought to think about what she needed, so the room would appear like it had before… still, the door wouldn't appear. She concentrated harder for several minutes, and still, nothing. Suddenly, she began to panic. _I knew it; I knew it was too good to be true… It's gone, and now what am I going to do?_

She thought frantically and was finally able to compose herself when she remembered something. _I was pacing back and forth when I was thinking about it…_ So she tried walking past the door multiple times. Thinking hard of what she needed while pacing past it once, twice… and on the third time past it, the door appeared again.

Vesperra was extremely relieved as she entered the room once again, and noticed something she hadn't noticed before. On the wooden door, etched in tiny letters, was _Room of Requirement_.

This time, she practiced on other animals besides owls, because she just felt like being diverse with the animals she was torturing. Each curse took her no longer than a few hours to master, when she was practicing constantly. The one she _did_ have trouble with, however, was the Ingnimentus Curse. It was meant to affect the victim's nerve endings and make them feel as if they were on fire, but Vesperra often focused too hard and the animals actually ended up on fire. Soon, there were many charred owls and ferrets scattered around the room.

She had completely learned two curses and was in the middle of mastering a third when the clock told her it was Dinner, and she reluctantly packed up her bag and left to the Great Hall. Even though Draco did nothing in particular to her that night, she felt really tempted to curse him then. With Dark Magic fresh on her mind and Draco's annoying voice echoing at the Slytherin table, she couldn't help but want to kill him.

After she scarfed down her steak-and-kidney pudding and drained the last of her pumpkin juice, Vesperra decided to stay for a few more minutes, and turned around to look at Professor Snape. He was eyeing Professor Quirrel evilly. She assumed it was because Quirrel had the job Professor Snape wanted, and it was so obvious he deserved it. Quirrel was just so shaky− she wondered why he was even allowed to be a teacher.

Without warning, he looked straight at Vesperra, and she didn't look away. They continued on like that for several minutes, like they had done so many times before, both wishing they could speak telepathically. Finally, Professor Snape offered a grim smile and returned to staring down Quirrel.

At this, Vesperra left the Great Hall. Whilst walking through the hallway, she made a sudden decision to not continue on to the seventh floor. There would always be tomorrow to master that one curse, as well as some more. It was nearly curfew, and she didn't want to risk being caught by Filch. Though revenge was a top priority, she still needed rest. And she wanted to spend a couple hours writing to Professor Snape, anyway.

Only moments before he sent his first message of the night, Vesperra had been thinking about whether or not she should tell him about the Room of Requirement.

_He's a Professor here, he's bound to know… But maybe it's a secret that even some of the teachers don't know. He could find it useful… Wait, what if I'm not supposed to know? And then, of course, he'll ask what I needed it for, and I can't lie to him. Then he'll be angry with me… _And the_ last_ thing she wanted was for Professor Snape to be angry with her.

So she didn't mention it, and instead just told him she'd been busy all day. He didn't ask 'with what,' so he probably assumed homework. Sunday and the next couple days into the week were full of Vesperra's self-training for the Dark Arts, and she was feeling more powerful with each new one she learned.

On Tuesday after Lunch, she had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everyone was to hand in their essay on the effects garlic had on vampires, and were reminded of it once Quirrel entered the classroom with his turban lopsided and looking especially nervous. Vesperra found the foot of parchment in her bag, and proceeded to the front to give it to Quirrel. But on her way through the center aisle, something skinny, yet solid darted out and caught her foot. She fell flat on her stomach, her arms somewhat cushioning the fall.

Cocking her head to the side, she automatically realized it was Draco's foot that tripped her, as he was giggling profusely along with Crabbe and Goyle. Growling, she pushed herself back up and forced herself to retain her impassive expression. Malfoy followed close behind her, as he also had to turn in his essay.

There was so much tension in the air when Vesperra and Draco were that close to each other that no one dared to turn in their essay without waiting for them to return to their seats. Quirrel seemed to notice, but even he understood. The two handed their papers to him at the same time, and he took them in separate hands.

Only a couple feet away from Quirrel, Vesperra cast him an odd look. She was just inhaling when she caught wind of how foul the air around him was. A subtle and brief sign of disgust flashed on her face as she squinted at Professor Quirrel, scrutinizing him. He made eye contact with her and immediately went all shaky and his eyes darted away.

For a moment, she thought the smell might've been garlic, since there was always some around the room to ward off vampires, but it was evident that whatever it was, it was coming straight from Professor Quirrel, and it couldn't have been garlic. It smelt like something rotting, but not like any sort of food… somewhat like a rotting carcass. And something told Vesperra that it was coming from his turban.

Quirrel's turban was just abnormal… even for wizards. Vesperra couldn't help but feel like he was hiding something under it, and judging by the foul smell, something evil. The smell of death was unmistakable, and that's what it was. There was no way he was hiding any sort of scar or bad haircut. But _what_ it was, exactly, she could never guess.

As she and Draco returned to their seats, other students began to hand in their essays as well. When Malfoy reached his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, Vesperra heard him mutter a bit too loudly,

"Quirrel's pathetic− a disgrace to Slytherin house." The Professor didn't appear to have heard, but Malfoy's comment gained a load of snickers from the surrounding students. But then he continued, "But you know who's a bigger disgrace? Vesperra− I don't even know why she was sorted into Slytherin…"

She began flexing her fingers in anger, wishing she could curse him with the deadliest one she knew right then. Obviously, she couldn't, but the thought suddenly gave her an idea that was so ingenious, it _had_ to work.

Faking anger much more immense than she felt, Vesperra whipped around and yelled into Malfoy's face.

"Disgrace to Slytherin? I've earned us more points than anyone else, including you!" Everyone turned their heads at once, shocked at her outburst. Quirrel said nothing, and Draco seemed to relish the sound of Vesperra's fury and replied enthusiastically.

"Only because you're Snape's favorite! _He's_ giving you all the points!"

Professor Quirrel still said nothing, obviously still in shock of what was happening. _Okay, I'll have to step it up a bit…_

"Why do you care? As long as we're getting points… And I'm getting points from all the teachers, you know it, you little cockroach!" Vesperra yelled even louder, veins bulging in her temples. Quirrel seemed to come out of his daze, straighten his turban, and say in a quiet, trembling voice,

"P-p-pl-please s-sit d-d-down−" But Malfoy cut him off.

"If only you weren't such a show-off!"

"Malfo−"

"_I_ don't go around bragging about all the money I have−"

"Miss D−"

"Because you haven't any!"

"Or threaten to tell my father on anyone−"

"D-detention, b-b-both of you!" Quirrel spat out, now in between them, having just pulled them apart. "T-t-t-tomorrow, eight, m-my office."

As he shuffled his way back to the front of the class, Vesperra and Draco glared at each other with malice for another moment before breaking it and returned to their seats. For the first and hopefully last time, she had gotten into trouble at Hogwarts. But there's all the difference in the fact that she had done it on purpose.

Normally, she would have definitely been able to contain her anger, but she was in the midst of revenge, and due to the latest happenings, she would have it by tomorrow. Since they both had detention, Malfoy would be strolling through the corridors _alone _to get_ there_. Without Crabbe or Goyle. She would finally have a chance.

That night, she perfected her plan. Right down to the last detail in every possible scenario, she knew what she was going to do. But that wasn't until the next day, so she continued to practice curses in the Room of Requirement in her free time. It was giving her time to learn Dark Magic and to avoid other people.

On Wednesday, she put her plan into action. No spying really had to be done during the day, but she had to cut Professor Snape short during their nightly conversation after dinner.

_**Sorry Professor, but I have to leave. I've got a detention with Quirrel.**_

Snape was thoroughly shocked upon hearing the message and reading it again. Vesperra never had detention before… She would never do anything that would make a teacher mad enough to give her detention. _Unless_… she had lost control again, and nearly killed someone. Other teachers didn't understand her; they would punish her in a heartbeat, unlike him.

_What did you do?_

The thing about the two-way journal was, when you hear the other person's voice read the message, you hear the tone of voice they would use if they were saying it to you in person. Somehow, the book read your mind, or absorbed your feelings, or maybe it just knew the intent that was put into the words you wrote. Vesperra could hear the shocked, and yet worried tone in Professor Snape's voice, and suddenly became worried herself. Would he be disappointed that she had actually gotten detention? It was worth it, of course, finally getting the revenge she'd been plotting for weeks… but she felt bad.

_**I got in a shouting match with Malfoy− he's got detention too.**_

A shouting match? That didn't sound like Vesperra at all... She only yelled when someone pushed her over the top, and otherwise kept it in without even a trace of anger on her face. Malfoy must have said something particularly insulting… He was about to write a message asking her what he said, but there was already another message in Vesperra's voice and handwriting.

_**I'll tell you the details later, but I have to go. Bye.**_

Vesperra hurriedly scrawled the message so she could catch up with her plan, and sprinted down the dungeon corridors. There was still over a half hour until she and Draco had to be at Quirrel's office for their detention, but she needed as much extra time as possible. Finding a dark crevice in the wall, she waited.

Within ten minutes, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle came strutting out of their dormitory, headed toward the Common Room. Vesperra sunk deeper into the crevice as they passed, hoping with all her might they wouldn't spot her. To her amazement, they stopped when only just ahead of her space in the wall, and Malfoy was turning back.

"You guys wait for me in the Common Room… I suddenly need to use the restroom." And he walked briskly back the direction he came, wearing an impatient expression that told Vesperra it wasn't part of some scheme; he actually did need to use the bathroom.

For the first time ever, Crabbe and Goyle were alone. Realizing how big of an opportunity this was and how little time she had before Draco came back, she thought quickly, and seized her chance.

When Malfoy was out of sight, Vesperra rushed to catch up with his fat cronies. Ten feet behind them, she half-whispered, "Crabbe! Goyle!"

They slowly turned their heads, utterly confused, but when they realized who it was, narrowed their eyes and frowned dumbly.

"What do you want, Grease-perra?" said Crabbe, seemingly trying to take the role of the leader while Draco was gone.

"I know I shouldn't tell you this," Vesperra whispered hoarsely, ignoring what Crabbe called her. "but Malfoy's got a stash of sweets in the broom closet." It was stupidly obvious, but Crabbe and Goyle were obviously stupid. Their eyes widened in excitement and greed, and without another word to Vesperra, they pushed her aside and sprinted (which didn't seem possible with how fat they were) to the supply closet halfway down the corridor.

Vesperra had tailed after them, so she wasn't a second too late when she saw Crabbe and Goyle hopelessly looking around the closet for any signs of a candy stash, still not realizing that there was none. She stood in the doorway for a moment before they looked up, perplexed.

"_Petrificus Totalus_! _Petrificus Totalus_!" She said sharply and quickly, brandishing her wand faster than the boys even had time to realize she was tricking them. Closing it behind her, she pointed her wand at the door as well, and muttered "_Ignimenta_." It was one of the curses she'd learned in the past couple days, and was meant to cause the victim to feel as though they were on fire. However, it could work on objects as well, so to anyone but the person who cast it, it would feel fire-hot at the touch. If anyone were to try and open it, they would feel searing pain and most definitely avoid touching it again.

_That was too easy._ Okay, so it wasn't necessary for the plan, but it was an extra precaution. She'd Obliviate them later. As Vesperra left the scene to avoid running into Malfoy, she couldn't help but put on the most sinister of all smiles, and laugh with evil insanity.

Once again in a dark crevice, she waited for Malfoy, but this time outside the portrait hole. Ten to Eight, he emerged with a strange expression, which Vesperra could only assume was him wondering whatever happened to his bodyguards. She waited until he was a good ways ahead of her, and began to follow. The corridors were empty, which meant she could have easily cursed him then, but she wanted to get out of the dungeons first.

In the main hallways they soon arrived, Vesperra a few moments later than Malfoy. They were about four turns away from Quirrel's office in the DADA room when she decided it was time for her final vengeance. Malfoy had no idea she was following him, and actually looked a bit depressed at the prospect of detention. Well, he was about to get a bit more depressed.

Gaining in on him so she was about forty feet away, she made sure he was in the middle of an empty corridor while she was safely behind a corner. Also making sure there was no one else sneaking around nearby, she pulled her wand out from her sleeve and aimed it carefully at Malfoy. There was no remorse, no hesitation. Just malicious intent and a horribly evil grin.

"_Iniuroste_!" With a cross-slashing motion and careful aim of her wand, the force hit him instantly. Each of Malfoy's bones that the slashed lines hit snapped like twigs, filling the injured areas with white-hot pain. Well, Vesperra could only assume. It was Draco that was feeling it. The curse had hit him somewhere in the right arm near his shoulder, his left wrist, a couple ribs, and both kneecaps, by the look of it.

Shock from being cursed out of nowhere without even knowing he'd been cursed delayed his reaction by about a second. Then, blood-curdling screams echoed throughout the corridor as he clutched the suddenly painful areas, then letting go because that made it hurt worse, and fell to the floor, unable to move, or really focus on anything.

He wasn't writhing or jerking around, but merely straining his neck to move his head up and began to yell both in pain and for help, facing away from Vesperra. This was part of her plan, though, and she was already on it. A well aimed "_Silencio_." Softened Malfoy's cries to the point where Vesperra could only hear a faint squeak. Relishing the sight of Malfoy sprawled on the ground, arms and legs jutting out in awkward positions, and the rest of his muscles bulging with strain as he made fruitless efforts to call for help… she lingered for only a few more seconds, then made sure to be as far away from him as possible.

With now about five minutes until her detention started, she hurried to take a couple different turns than she would have to get there, so she wasn't anywhere near Malfoy's path. That way, if anyone were to come across his body in the corridors, they wouldn't see her walking along the same hall and automatically suspect her.

But now, as she was sprinting to Quirrel's office, the prospect of what she had just done was resonant in her mind… She did it. She finally got her revenge, and Draco was now lying helpless in the middle of the corridors. He didn't know it was her, or even what had happened. Finally, she was satisfied.

When she made it to Quirrel's office, it was a minute to eight. Quirrel's nervous eyes darted around and out the door, and noticed the shortage of people.

"W-wh-where's M-mal-malfoy?" asked Quirrel in almost a serious tone.

Vesperra shrugged. "I didn't walk with him… or even see him on my way here. He must be late… or ditching, I expect."

"Hmm… W-w-well, if he is-isn't here wi-within the n-n-next f-five m-m-m-min-minutes, you'll st-t-start w-without him." Vesperra figured it would just be easier for Professor Quirrel if he didn't speak. If it was this difficult to sputter out a simple sentence, then why was he even a teacher?

Of course, Malfoy didn't show up, so she started her detention, which was to clean the Iguanas' cages. Honestly, it wasn't that bad, and was definitely worth getting her revenge. The only thing she even had to hold her nose for was to avoid the smell of Professor Quirrel. He stunk badly as ever, and his turban loomed to the side a bit, which he hastily pushed back into place, looking quite frightened every time he did.

When her detention was over, Vesperra was grateful and disappeared instantly, eager to be away from the rotting smell and eerie aura of Quirrel's turban. She took the other way instead of whence she came, so she could poke her head around a corner and see if Malfoy was still there. He wasn't. That meant someone came around on coincidence and found him, and took him to the Hospital Wing. _Oh, well… I hope he passed out from the pain first._

Soon, she approached the medieval portrait of a dramatic looking, bloodstained patron. "Blackadder." It swung open, and she climbed inside. Crabbe and Goyle were still in the closet, as she expected, since she had to lift the Ignimentus Curse from the door. She quickly obliviated them, and their faces returned to their normal stupid looks.

Since it was only around Nine, Vesperra spent the rest of the night talking to Professor Snape through the journal, telling him all about how she got the detention, and that Malfoy didn't show up. She thought it quite ironically hilarious that she was the one who caused him to be absent in the first place.

He thought it was a legitimate reason to be so angry, but not by Vesperra's standards. Snape figured she must have been quite stressed out lately (and she looked it as well), and snapped under deep pressure that didn't have to do much with anger. Though he vaguely wondered why Malfoy didn't show up for detention, he didn't dwell too much on it, and hadn't the slightest idea that Vesperra had cursed him so badly. Although, he assumed he must have ditched, and decided he'd find out the next day during Potions.

Late in the night, they both became too tired to continue, bade each other a good night, and fell asleep. Vesperra didn't bother to remove her robes, as that day had been exhausting.

The next day, she didn't see Malfoy at breakfast, the Common Room, or in any of her classes. Others noticed, of course, and soon enough, the rumor was around the school that he'd been attacked. All the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs were glad to not have him around until the next week, and all the Slytherins were visibly downcast, especially Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed lost without their master, and Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to miss her boyfriend very much. Vesperra, however, kept an impassive face, but was overly excited on the inside.

That day's Potions class was rowdier than ever− Snape had to yell at the students multiple times and call each of them dunderheads at least

* * *

once. _So that's why he didn't show up… he was attacked. Someone randomly cursed him and left him in the corridors, lying in pain. But who would just curse him for no reason? …Well, there had to be a reason. Lucius is going to raise Hell here… and'll probably question me too._

He didn't necessarily like Draco, or even Lucius, but Lucius Malfoy was his friend, nevertheless, and if anything happened to him while Snape was at Hogwarts, it would be on his hide. Besides, he was a Slytherin, he couldn't completely hate any Slytherin (except for Voldemort). And of course, he probably hated Harry Potter as much as he did.

Suddenly, a tiny thought was itching in the back of his mind, but he refused to think it. But then he couldn't help it. _Could Vesperra have possibly cursed Malfoy?_ No, no. Of course she couldn't. What reason would she have? _But she was in the Restricted Section… she could've gotten plenty of curse books. Did I make a mistake in giving her permission? Oh, but there's plenty of people who hate Draco… an older Gryffindor, I expect, probably did it. Stupid of me, to think Vesperra could have done it…_

He watched her brew that day's potion, focused as ever, but not a single hint of having cursed Malfoy in her face. Vesperra never showed her thoughts through her expressions, or at least tried not to. Snape was good at reading her, though, and found nothing. His suspicions returned for a moment, and continued to do so on and off during the day. Time and time again, he refused to believe it. He didn't want to believe that Vesperra would personally seek out physical revenge despite the trouble she could be in and the damage it would do her… which could ruin her life…

It just seemed unrealistic. The curse must have been _really_ advanced; Malfoy's bones were all snapped, and he was supposedly robbed of his voice so no one could hear his cries.

_Only Vesperra would've had the brains to think of that._ Shut up.

The only way to know for sure was by asking her, and he sure as hell wasn't going to do that.

* * *

**I hope you didn't get bored at this chapter just because of the lack of Snape, because this is actually one of my favorites. I feel like it has more substance, and not as much sweet stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love sweet stuff, especially if it's involving Snape and Lily, but I also love revenge. We really get an insight of just how evil Vesperra is. How dark her past has made her... and that she's not just some depressed kid- she's willing to torture helpless animals in order to practice a curse and doesn't care, and we know she'd really thought this out. And now, we're wondering if Snape'll ever find out, and if he does, what he'll do about it. Well, you'll just have to find out in a later chapter. (Btw, there'll be _a lot_ of Snape in the next one, so don't worry.)**

**Don't forget to review!**


	7. Book 1: Chapter 7

**I'm sorry it's took so long... I _know_ it's been a long wait. Well, it usually is. The thing is, being a freshman in highschool doesn't leave you much free-time... and now that it's got to this part of the HP timeline, I'm actually going to have to be constantly looking in the book for references. But it's worth the wait, isn't it? Because my chapters _are_ pretty long. I just hope no one that reads this fanfic is going to get bored just because I'm taking this long in between chapters. Either way, I'll try to write faster. **

* * *

It was Halloween. The children were elated to wake up to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Everyone loved Halloween… This was a day of fun, a day of decorating, a day of feasting, and a day to celebrate what seemed like nothing in particular. But for Severus Snape, this was nothing more than the anniversary of the worst day of his life.

Now, it was arguable what exactly the worst day of his life had been. There was the day he accidentally called Lily… well, you know. Then there was the day she officially ended their friendship, and the day she married James. And though all of those days led up to and indirectly caused this one, he couldn't help but hate this day with a burning sorrow more than any of the others. It was the anniversary of Lily's death.

Snape remembered the date as soon as he awoke, like he always did. Every year. He stood up, and with a dry, still face, solemnly donned his clothes. Keeping his eyes to the floor, he tried to block all thoughts from his mind, to shut it all out… But as skilled in Occlumency as he was, he couldn't. And part of him didn't want to, either. His eyes drifted from the ground and onto the dark red frame upon his nightstand. In it was the picture of him and Lily that he cherished almost as much as the real thing.

Uncontrollably, silent, mournful tears streamed down his face as he just stood there, half-naked, wishing he wouldn't have to teach today. Biting back audible cries, he forced himself to continue dressing, still crying the whole time. It was when he began brushing his hair that he ceased crying, and instead took to looking at himself in his mirror. Snape looked into his own eyes, which seemed to become even more intense with sorrow as they dried.

But as he deepened his gaze at himself, he suddenly became very angry… with himself. _It's your fault._ he thought to his reflection. _It's all. Your. Fault!_ With this anger, he hastily brushed out the last few tangles in his hair, and looked away from himself as soon as possible.

He couldn't bear to think such thoughts. Out of all days, he hated this one more than anything… but he couldn't stop it from existing. It seemed that now, it existed only to put him in a horrible mood. But then again, it was a day to properly mourn her. Of course, he mourned her every second of his life, but it felt different on Halloween, somehow. And it was also a day to remind him not to let go of the things that mattered most.

In a swift movement, he was suddenly kneeling at his nightstand, face level with the picture. Snape pressed his lips to Lily's smiling face, and when he let go, smiled back. Once again, he moved his face forward, but this time, to press his hooked nose against the glass, and whispered coldly,

"You will not have died in vain, my love. I _will_ protect your son."

Not a moment later, he was out of the room, storming down the corridors to the Great Hall.

* * *

Vesperra woke from her dreamless sleep as usual, but this time due to a pleasant odor filling her nose. She flung herself upright, and inhaled as much of it as possible. _Pumpkin._

For most, the smell of pumpkin automatically registered as "It's Halloween!", but pumpkin pie was the first sort of food (and only, so far) that she had actually been offered, which was by Professor Snape. And she would always remember it as that… so it was a few minutes before she realized that it was Halloween.

She had never really cared for Halloween… As much of it was only to have sweets, she hadn't ever been able to participate much. Her parents never gave her much food at all, let alone candy. Independent as she was, though, she'd find (or steal) a sickle or two and buy herself a Cauldron Cake or Chocolate Frog, but that wasn't often.

Though she had grown up in a completely Muggle neighborhood, she had no idea how Muggle money worked. Her mum never used it, and never let her dad take her to shops with him. So even if she managed to steal some Muggle coins, they would be worthless.

And of course, Halloween was also the day where people excessively pranked each other… namely, her. So that was a valid reason to hate Halloween. She wanted to just act normal and treat today like any other day, but she wouldn't put it past anyone else, especially Draco Malfoy, to take this day as a challenge of how badly they can prank her.

Malfoy had come back from the Hospital Wing during the week, fully healed, yet still a bit shaky. No one, not even him, had any idea of who could have cursed him. Vesperra was nervous, at first, that people might suspect her, but it soon proved stupid to be worried about it. Who could think that she, a first year, would know a curse that could hurt Malfoy so badly? Even though she did… it was quite unbelievable.

The thought may have struck Draco for a second, though, because on his first day back… Vesperra caught him staring at her weirdly and almost fearfully. He'd been avoiding her since.

Since that curse was so useful, she figured she'd keep the book for a while and continue to practice in the Room of Requirement every day after classes and during the weekends. Soon, she'd probably know more curses than any of the Professors.

If anyone decided to prank her today, which she felt was quite probable, she could curse them and say it was defense. However, she doubted any hex towards her would be very advanced… and she could just deflect it like she usually did.

With utmost caution, she pulled on her robes and crept down to the Great Hall, trying to avoid any of the other Slytherins even more than usual. No one noticed her as she walked inconspicuously through the Common Room, to her surprise. Once again, she was the first Slytherin first year at Breakfast, but things were strangely normal. There was no one jumping out to hex her, no one spontaneously appearing to call her foul names, and she didn't like it. _If nothing's happening now, then there must be something worse to happen later…_

This made her even more paranoid, as she was ready to jump up at the slightest _clunk_ of a glass, and was almost as shaky as Professor Quirrel. Noticing this, she consciously forced herself to calm down. She _refused_ to adopt similar traits to Quirrel, the one teacher that absolutely sickened her. Still trying to stay focused and alert, she glanced over at the Staff table, where a frizzy-haired Professor with huge glasses seemed to be explaining something really dramatically to Quirrel, while he avoided eye contact and mumbled a bit in response every few sentences.

Vesperra could tell that woman was being extremely annoying, and didn't feel sorry for him one bit. A couple chairs down, Professor Snape was staring loathingly and suspiciously at the back of Quirrel. He wore an impassive expression, but she could tell by the deep coldness of his gaze that he hated him. But every few minutes, he narrowed his eyes in strange consideration, as if expecting him to do something abnormal.

She didn't have to do too much analyzing to take notice that Professor Snape seemed to think that Quirrel was up to something, just as she did. Once, Vesperra caught his eyes, then glanced at Quirrel and back to him. He then looked down and nonchalantly ate his Halloween Breakfast, as if he hadn't just been staring at Quirrel.

Biting her lip, she looked away and focused on her breakfast as well. Malfoy and his gang soon entered the Great Hall, grinning as arrogantly as ever, acting as if he were the king of the school.

As much torturous pain her revenge had put him through, it only did him good socially. All the teachers expressed their worries for his safety and gave him some sort of card or sweet, and Pansy now hung on his every word as he recounted how much pain he'd been in, and felt dramatically sorry for him. He faked having continuous pain afterwards, just to have to put forth less effort in classes and others doing things for him.

It enraged Vesperra that when she had almost been killed, the only person that cared was Professor Snape, but when Malfoy was hurt, everyone's suddenly kissing his feet. But she had gotten what she wanted, didn't she? She put him in the Hospital Wing for nearly a week, and it was physical pain she wanted out of him… Vesperra tried to let go and accept that she would never win with him.

There would be a lot of battles, but he'd always be richer and better-liked. All she could do was make sure he struggled as much as possible.

"A swell All Hallows Eve it is, Miss D'Monicas! Don't you agree?" a ghostly, yet jovial voice announced from behind her, making her heart stop.

A transparent figure suddenly emerged from her front, and became the body of the Bloody Baron, who now hovered above the Slytherin table. Recovering from the shock, she relaxed and returned her gaze to her plate.

"Not really." she muttered as she chewed on her omelet.

Despite all the other Slytherins (save Professor Snape) hating her, the Bloody Baron took an annoying liking to her. He attempted to cheer her up every chance he got, but to no avail. For the first time in about a week, Malfoy butted in.

"If it involves happiness, Grease-perra's not interested." He and his cronies laughed, Vesperra tensed, and the Bloody Baron seemed to not have heard him. The House ghost was now lying on his side on the table in a playful matter. Ignoring it, she reached through his chest to grab her glass of pumpkin juice.

"Aw, why not? Something's always got you down, but I don't see what could be wrong toda−"

"I _hate_ Halloween." she snapped, hatefully glaring at the ghost.

The smile on the Bloody Baron's intangible face vanished, and instead became a depressed scowl. His shoulders slumped as he regained his posture and floated to the other end of the table. As much as he tried to make Vesperra happy, he was generally unhappy in his death. Well, all ghosts are, because happy people don't become ghosts when they die. But she often succeeded in leaving him even more depressed than usual whenever she spoke to him, because she was just like that. Her words could ruin your day.

Even on a day like Halloween, when even the Hogwarts ghosts were enjoying their death, Vesperra's hateful demeanor would depress you. And she had every reason to hate Halloween… Everyday as a child, she'd have to watch all the other children have fun while she had nothing, and in comparison, it felt like less than she normally had. Besides, it was a day where most were happy, and she's never happy… ergo, she's somewhat jealous of the happiness. And also annoyed by it.

Not caring that she had possibly hurt the Bloody Baron's feelings worse than ever, she returned to her Breakfast, forgetting that Malfoy was still there, and bound to strike again.

"You and the Bloody Baron would make a good couple!" he teased, glancing to the other end of the Slytherin Table. "But Professor Snape might get jealous…"

Vesperra hadn't noticed that all the first years were now at the table, so it was a shock when they all laughed so loud her eardrums nearly split.

Simple insults like that were easy to ignore now, but they still hurt. Actually, any of Malfoy's insults involving Professor Snape were more embarrassing than hurtful… They would just be teasing her about being infatuated with him, and she'd seem to get mad, when her insides weren't writhing with anger. And her face wasn't getting hot with fury, either. But she still wanted them to shut up.

So what if she took a liking to Professor Snape? Their relationship had something deep that even she couldn't fathom… _It's really not their business to talk about it anyway… So, what? Am I supposed to not make any sort of friends and be miserable here? Is that what they want? Of course it is…_

"Ooh, looks like Snape's giving you the eye…" said Malfoy as he pointed towards the Staff table. "Probably wants a goodbye kiss before he leaves Breakfast." He hardly laughed after saying this, so it registered that there must be some truth in what he said. While Malfoy could interpret Professor Snape staring at her as something like that, it was obviously something different, and possibly important. Or maybe he just felt like looking at her.

Vesperra tried not to look obvious, but she did a pretty bad job at it. As soon as Draco pointed to Professor Snape, she whipped her head ninety degrees around while the rest of her body was stationary. He was facing her but not looking her way, as if he had glanced away upon Vesperra noticing him looking at her. But then, he focused directly on her, and squinted his eyes as if he were confused, and almost fearful.

She stared back expectantly, wondering why he was looking that way. In a few seconds, he slowly lowered his head to his plate, did a double-take, but immediately went back to suspiciously staring at Quirrel.

There was a strange silence when she looked away. Vesperra expected them all to be sniggering at her obvious prolonged eye contact with Professor Snape, but they weren't. They were all either silently eating or talking amongst themselves, but no one was looking at her. She thought nothing more of it, and didn't push her luck. It was nice to have everyone leave her alone for once…

But also suspicious. Reaching for her glass, she eyed them strangely and sipped her pumpkin juice. It tasted a bit more tangy than usual… probably because of the spices they'd add specially for Halloween. A few minutes later, they ceased their silence and resumed their loud conversation, occasionally slipping in an insult about Vesperra, who ignored them. They didn't insult her to her face the rest of the morning, though… _Cowards._

At last, when she felt full, she left the Great Hall and it suddenly registered that this was one of the most normal Breakfasts she'd ever had… and thus, one of the weirdest.

* * *

Snape couldn't help but feel over-protective today, and was almost looking forward to having class with Potter. He'd try to treat him less horribly, but be strict all the same… But then he remembered he didn't have a period with Potter that day.

Strangely disappointed, he sat at the staff table and began staring at Quirrel with dislike. _Well, if I can't help Potter directly today, I'll just have to keep a busier watch on Quirrel…_

Trelawney was explaining something to him very obnoxiously, as he ignored her. Snape couldn't blame him… Trelawney was, with no doubt, the most annoying person he'd ever met.

"Darkness… Blood! Is in your future…! A hasty decision made tonight will make you an enemy and three foolish friends! Beware… of the hell that lies ahead… danger, hounds, evil lashing out from within…"

She ranted on like that for a while. Normally, Snape would have snapped at her to shut up and leave whatever teacher she was "warning" alone, but he had no such sympathy for Quirrel… And he was slightly interested in what she was saying.

Trelawney's predictions of death and danger were usually useless, and no one ever believed them. But as she dramatically told Quirrel of his supposed "fate" today, he seemed to be avoiding her nervously, as if afraid that she knew something real this time. Perhaps he was just being his nervous, paranoid self… but he couldn't have been. For the first time ever, Quirrel wasn't shaky at all.

Perfectly still, he cut up his eggs with his fork and ate while looking at nothing but his plate. His eyes weren't darting around the room in fear, and whenever he muttered at Trelawney to please leave him alone, he spoke solidly and didn't stutter a bit.

_A hasty decision… What could that mean? She specifically said 'hounds'… which would mean dogs. Unless, of course, it's just a metaphor to emphasize 'hell'…_

Puzzled, he continued to stare at Quirrel, unable to draw any sort of conclusion as to what he was supposedly up to. He knew it must have something to do with the safety of Potter; otherwise, Dumbledore would not have told him to keep an eye on him. _An enemy_… would that be Potter? Or possibly, him? And the _three foolish friends_… Who would be thick enough to make friends with Quirrel?

It was pretty thick of Quirrel, though, to be planning something on Halloween… It was obvious, wasn't it? Like something Voldemort would do… Well, he did, actually. Ten years earlier, he set off to Godric's Hollow on Halloween to kill Harry, but James and Lily tried to fend him off. And while it still seemed obvious that he would do that on Halloween, it didn't matter. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the Dark Lord himself…

It felt awfully foreboding to think of how Quirrel and Voldemort were both planning something sinister on the same day… But he pushed those feelings aside and tried to gulp down some eggs. The eggs were stuck in his suddenly narrow throat, but rather than spitting them out, he decided to leave them there until his throat relaxed enough that he could swallow.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Vesperra looking his way, so he locked eyes with her. As soon as he did, she darted her eyes to the left, where Quirrel was, and back to him, supposedly indicating that she knew he'd been watching him. When the thought struck him, he tore his gaze away from Vesperra and suddenly focused on his breakfast, and tried to appear innocent. His throat loosened and he could swallow again, and he scarfed down his eggs and moved onto his toast.

In two bites, his toast was gone, and he grabbed for his pumpkin juice to wash it down. As he tipped the glass forward and his head slightly backward, he checked over the rim of the glass if Vesperra was still looking at him. She wasn't, but instead was being harassed by the Bloody Baron.

Relieved, he set his glass down and wiped pumpkin juice off his nose where the rim had made contact. He made sure Vesperra wasn't close to looking back at him, and returned to watching Quirrel, but tried to be more careful. _Dammit, I'm being too obvious…_ Snape settled for scanning the Great Hall maliciously, as he often did, and sporadically darting his eyes to view Quirrel from the side.

The more he watched the students, the more he hated Halloween. Harry Potter and his fellow Gryffindors were smiling as if it were the best day in the world, pigging out on eggs and porridge and breakfast steak. And then he was suddenly angry at Potter, not feeling protective whatsoever. He _had_ to know that his parents died on Halloween… Someone must have told him!

_Oh, I suppose famous Potter doesn't care to remember what anyone tells him, even if it's the day his parents died! Or perhaps he doesn't care that on this day, ten years ago, his mother DIED to save him! Maybe he doesn't care to respect the dead on the anniversary of their deaths, not even his own mother!_

How could he be so happy? Blinded with sudden, hot anger, he so _very_ much wanted to march down the Great Hall, drag Potter out of his seat, and tell him that this was the anniversary of his parents' death, and that he should show some damn respect and be mourning them… But he couldn't. Then he'd know Snape cared about him… to a point, at least. Or that he cared about his parents. Well, everyone knew he hated James, and as horrible at Potions he was, Harry wasn't a complete dunderhead. He'd assume Snape cared about Lily, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

So he'd just have to sit there, seething at how tactless Potter was, crying on the inside. To try and let go of all he was feeling at that moment, he refused to think about Harry Potter any longer and looked away, instead scanning the House tables without reason. As his focus passed the Slytherin table, Snape noticed Malfoy pointing in his direction, and Vesperra turning fast to look at him.

He suddenly whipped his head to stare back, wondering why Malfoy had pointed at him. Vesperra didn't put forth any effort to not make the fact that she was staring at Snape obvious, but he didn't know what he was doing that was so peculiar(or particularly arousing, maybe) that attracted her attention so focused and for so long. Of course, she often just decided to look at him because she felt like it, and he'd look back, and they'd communicate with their eyes…

But it was obvious now that there must have been a real reason, since her eyes were wide and alert. Behind her, Snape noticed something strange going on, and it worried him. Malfoy had reached forward to put a hand on Vesperra's glass ever so carefully, and the rest of the Slytherin first years were suppressing smiles. Squinting his eyes in confusion, he tried to figure out what they were doing. Seconds later, though, everyone was sitting normally, and Vesperra was still staring at him, as if trying to read his expression.

Assuring himself that nothing was wrong, but still feeling a bit suspicious, Snape returned to watching Quirrel, but not before a double-take. Quirrel didn't do anything particularly strange during breakfast, but he followed him afterwards.

Some ways into the third floor corridor, Quirrel took a turn he didn't expect, and he had to backtrack to find out which way he went. Soon, he heard quick-paced footsteps, and hurried to the source of the noise. He ended up outside a door, and heard Quirrel talking to someone, just as solidly as he had been at breakfast.

"−know, but she said I'd make an enemy!"  
Then he heard sort of a raspy hissing noise, but couldn't make out what it was saying.

"But that would mean he'd find out then, and he's not supposed to unt−"

The hissing noise again…

"I know she's crazy, but−"

_Hissss…_

"Okay, I'll still do it. But if I'm killed…"

After the hissing noise sounded once more, he heard footsteps getting louder as they presumably reached the door. Snape didn't stick around and, panicking, ran out of sight and down the marble staircase to the second floor. Heart thumping as if it were trying to fight its way out of his chest, he ran all the way back to his chambers and slammed to door behind him.

He leaned against the locked door, clutching his chest, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. All he could gather from that was that Quirrel was planning something− something _bad_, and he was doing it off someone's orders… and he was worried that Trelawney's crazy predictions were correct.

And whoever was giving him the orders… must have been the awful hiss-like voice. If only he could have understood that as well… Snape's brain was reeling. _Bloody hell, what am I going to do? I have to stop whatever he's planning to do… But how the devil can I? I'll have to make sure I don't take my eyes off of him during lunch, passing period, or dinner… And that hissing noise…_

Though no words were understandable, the raspy hiss must have been a person talking. And though it hardly sounded human, Snape had the sudden, dreadful thought that the voice reminded him greatly of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

After leaving the Great Hall, Vesperra's stomach started feeling weird… It felt as if it were moving upwards and into her esophagus… But then as she stopped for a second, it faded and went away.

Today, she had Double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, then Double Potions. As usual, she put all of her day's hope in Potions class, looking forward to seeing Professor Snape.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout lectured them all about dittany, and showed them some growing in its pot. All in all, it was a pretty boring period. Most Herbology classes were… since they never got to do any hands-on stuff. She supposed there would be better classes as they progressed through the year, though. It seemed that most Slytherins hated Professor Sprout and Herbology, but that was fine, because Sprout probably hated them all too.

While copying down her notes and sketching the dittany, as assigned, the earthy smell of the greenhouse got to her. It filled her nose and made her want to hold her breath, because when it entered her lungs, she felt like she wanted to retch. Vesperra didn't know why the smell of all the plants was suddenly making her feel sick, as it never had before, but she figured it was just adding to the way she felt queasy earlier. Retaining her healthy-looking stature, she didn't let it show that she felt the least bit sick, and finished her notes.

When Herbology was over, she was slow leaving the greenhouse. All the way through the corridors to Quirrel's classroom, her stomach felt progressively worse and worse. There was a horrible tingling feeling in her chest, where it felt like she could puke any second, but all she could do was heave and have nothing come out. The suspense was killing her; she'd rather have puked right then than have to wait…

But then, it went away, and she had her confidence back, as well as her reason. She couldn't let anyone know she was sick… it would show her as weak. And if she just puked all over the floor… _Bloody Hell, that would just be plain embarrassing._ Of course, she didn't know if people would be disgusted or laughing at her pain, but if she could help it, she would prevent it from happening altogether.

However, the sickening feeling came back slowly, and threatened to become worse than ever, as she was briskly walking the whole time. And too much motion couldn't have been good for whatever virus she had… Speaking of which, _where_ did this virus suddenly come from? It couldn't have been from something she ate, because Hogwarts food was just magical like that. It can't have viruses.

Whatever the cause, she wasn't going to Madam Pomfrey, like she knew most teachers would tell her to. It was mostly because she didn't want to miss any classes, but also because she knew people would talk, and she'd be worse off with everyone, especially Malfoy, teasing her for yet another thing that wasn't her fault.

In all the stomach pains, Vesperra completely forgot to be on guard for if Malfoy or any others jumping out to hex her. Luckily though, no one did, and she arrived at Defense Against the Dark Arts unharmed… still in pain from her stomach, though.

She walked in casually through the doorway, and noticed Malfoy's gang eyeing her. Ignoring them, she continued to her seat. But then− she walked past Quirrel, and inhaled the foul stench from his turban… The odor sickened her even worse, and the strange feelings in her chest were coming back, worse than ever… her stomach gave a lurch−

And Vesperra proceeded to vomit a glittering rainbow of foul waste all over the floor, narrowly missing Quirrel, who jumped back in time. It was a horrible feeling, as she couldn't breathe, but it was brief. The vomit burnt like everything in her throat, and she could still taste it… it was like tasting the smell of Quirrel's turban. But all the while, there was an underlying taste of pumpkin, and when she opened her eyes weakly, she saw that the vomit covering the floor was orange.

_Ugh… I must have barfed up my pumpkin juice−_

At that thought, a flurry of images and memories flashed through her mind… Malfoy pointing at Professor Snape, Snape staring weirdly at her, her drinking the pumpkin juice and it tasting funny, the other Slytherins being strangely quiet…

_Him_. Suddenly, she realized; Professor Snape wasn't looking at her, he was looking at Malfoy… because he was doing something to her pumpkin juice− _That's why he pointed at Snape; he needed a distraction, and that's why it tasted weird. _

Eyes widening and forgetting the stinging pain in her throat, she swiveled on her feet to face a grinning, satisfied Draco Malfoy.

"_You_!" accused Vesperra quite loudly, as her voice echoed through the DADA room. Before anyone knew what was happening, she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and had it pointed at Malfoy. Just as quick, she hissed, "_Vacubilus_!"

Everyone seemed to forget about the huge puddle of Vesperra's vomit at the front of the room, because Malfoy was making a new one. His face screwed up in pain as he threw his arms around his waist, forcibly bent forward, and puked all the contents of his stomach into the walkway between desks. The students squealed just as they did when Vesperra puked, and they pulled in their feet as to avoid touching it.

She stood hunched over, though not as much as Malfoy was, breathing deeply just as she had on the first day when she threw the knife at him. The situation had the same airiness as well. Everyone in the room stared at her, eyes wide with fear, and Malfoy was looking more afraid than anyone as he dared to look up at her.

For a fleeting moment, she felt utterly satisfied and wanted to smile wide in triumph, but suddenly had the same horrifying realization she did on the first day. She was being watched by everyone, including a teacher. But this time, it was Quirrel. Hesitating, she turned to face Quirrel… and her inevitable punishment. When she turned, she simultaneously stepped back from her vomit and returned her wand to inside her sleeve.

Quirrel seemed just as fearful as the rest− either that Vesperra would know such a violent curse, or that she might use one on him next. His eyes were wide and unblinking, and his bottom lip was trembling terribly. Suddenly, he furrowed his eyebrows in a pathetic attempt to appear more like an authority, and stammered,

"G-g-get to th-the Hospital W-wing n-n-now, be-before I g-gi-give you d-d-de-detention." He tried to keep a firm expression, but it became impossible at the look Vesperra was giving him. Her stare was intense, full of anger, and threatening enough to frighten even Dumbledore himself. And her jaw was positioned so carefully to give the slight impression that she was about to unhinge it and swallow him.

Malfoy dashed out the door, almost slipping on his own puke, as soon as Quirrel had told them to. Vesperra, however, stayed where she was, and turned her stare into a more calculating one. It might have been delirium from her sudden sickness, but she noticed something odder than ever about Quirrel's turban.

It seemed to be pulsating… but only slightly. Or maybe it wasn't moving, but it was giving off some sort of weird energy that made the air around it look strange… like heat waves. But it wasn't warm− in fact, it was colder around him than the rest of the room. And it just stank so badly…

"M-miss D−" started Quirrel, before Vesperra interrupted.

"I don't need to go to the Hospital Wing." said Vesperra quickly and coldly as she straightened herself up and softened her gaze a bit (which wasn't saying much), yet narrowed her eyes.

Suddenly realizing that vomit still covered a large amount of the floor and its stench still filled the room (though it wasn't close to how horrible Quirrel smelled), he fumbled for his wand and murmured a spell that made all of it vanish. Finally, all the students relaxed their faces and didn't appear so disgusted anymore.

Jerking her head away from the sight of Quirrel and the horrible smell, she glided to her seat and endured an awkward hour of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was difficult to focus that day, because every time she looked at Quirrel too long, her eyes began to sting. And not to mention there was the prospect of her having just done Dark and possibly illegal magic in a _Defense_ Against the Dark Arts classroom. The weird part about that was… Quirrel didn't punish her. He merely made a hollow threat at detention and tried to send her off to the Hospital Wing. What kind of teacher _does_ that?

He spent the period lecturing them about Disease Curses, which seemed awfully coincidental that he would choose that day, when Vesperra had just shown up only to puke all over the floor and then make Malfoy do so as well.

"Th-there are m-m-many cu-curses for v-v-v-v-vomiting…" Quirrel seemed extra reluctant to say vomit, as Vesperra had been staring him straight in the face when he did. "S-some of which are ha-harmless… B-b-but others are _very dangerous_."

The last two words were rather easy to say, as he lowered his voice, presumably from becoming too nervous. Everyone else avoided even a side-glance at her for the rest of the lesson, and finally, it was time for lunch and they were able to leave. Right at the threshold of the classroom, Vesperra threw Quirrel a glare, in which she saw the strange energy and her eyes stung again.

As if he was reading her mind, he hastily straightened his turban and got away from her as soon as possible. Half suspicious and half satisfied that she had the demeanor to scare Quirrel away, she left for lunch.

Malfoy was absent for lunch, but returned for Transfiguration, in which no one dared look at Vesperra. She wasn't feeling sick anymore, _Thank God_, so she could eat a full meal and remove the taste of vomit from her mouth. No one but the other Slytherins that saw it happen seemed to know about what had happened, luckily for Vesperra.

Finally, she had Double Potions, which meant two hours with Professor Snape.

* * *

Snape spent that day's classes finding it difficult to teach, as he was going through the multiple phases of paranoia, Time and time again, he had to remind himself that Quirrel had no chance of doing whatever he was planning during a class. During lunch, he kept such a close watch on Quirrel that he swore he never blinked.

In the midst of being in such deep thought, he almost forgot to be unpleasant to his students. But as the day struggled to a close, it came time for his last class of the day, Double Potions for the Slytherins… most importantly, Vesperra. Though nothing else could, she calmed him down enough that his heart wasn't threatening to break out of his chest and fly across the room.

Vesperra made it to the dungeons feeling better about Halloween than she had all day. She had no Gryffindors there to hiss foul names just a tiny bit louder than the hiss of the cauldrons, all the Slytherins were avoiding her out of fear, and there was a full two hours with Professor Snape ahead of her.

Snape noticed an extra shine in Vesperra's eyes that wasn't there normally, and hopeful warmth flooded him. When he stood facing the class, he gazed at her for a second or so before announcing what potion they were doing that day.

"Today you will be brewing the Pepperup Potion. Some may consider it advanced, perhaps too advanced for first years, but as its purpose is to cure the common cold, it's an important potion to know. I'm sure those of you who are competent enough"− he threw an encouraging glance to Vesperra− "should find it relatively easy. This does require a few ingredients that aren't normally in the student cupboard, which I have already placed in labeled jars on your desks. Anyone caught attempting to steal any of them for personal use will be given a weeks detention scrubbing the dungeon floors with a toothbrush. The instructions are on the board,"− he tapped the board with his wand, and words appeared− "you have two hours. Begin."

Before striding back to his desk for a good few minutes of thinking hard about Quirrel (it was easier to do so when sitting down), he turned his head toward Vesperra and stared at her until she stared back.

Vesperra had headed towards the student's cupboard immediately after Professor Snape told them all to begin. When she turned back with her arms full of ingredients, she noticed him looking straight at her, as if he had been staring at her for a while. She caught his eyes and stared into them, wondering what he was thinking. He didn't usually stare at her _this_ much… they'd share a few meaningful glances whenever no one was paying attention to them, but this was the third time in five minutes. At that, she couldn't help but wonder if he knew about her hexing Malfoy…

Hungrily inhaling her returned gaze, he continued to his desk. Normally, he didn't stare at Vesperra so much, because it would attract attention. But today was possibly one of the most stressful days he'd had for a very long time, as it was the anniversary of Lily's death and he had to prevent Quirrel from doing whatever he was doing… could anyone possibly blame him for craving the peace he could find in her eyes?

Whilst working on her potion, Vesperra was about a quarter ways through when she came to the instruction, _two scoops of crushed Bicorn Horn_. It was one of the ingredients that was normally in Professor Snape's private stores, and was very rare and expensive… and also used in very dangerous (what Vesperra would call 'useful') potions. If she had any other teacher for Potions, she would have taken some straightaway… But _never_, could she_ ever_… steal from Professor Snape. Especially when he expressly told the class not to. In fact, she was sure he had jinxed them somehow, so if someone tried to nick any, some sort of siren would go off.

As usual, she had absolutely no problem with her potion. When it came time to allow it to simmer for exactly six minutes, she turned over her magical hourglass (which could be set to count down any time) and glanced around the room. Tracey Davis was whispering to Daphne Greengrass rather obviously, but as she did, she didn't notice that she just accidentally scooped an extra spoonful of Bicorn Horn into her potion…

Suddenly the surface of her cauldron began frothing, and Tracey screamed and panicked. It was soon foaming all over her table and dripping onto the floor, and Professor Snape was over there in an instant. Looking thoroughly stressed and angry, he vanished the potion entirely.

Snape had enough going on without a potion catastrophe in his midst… Muttering "_Evanesco_," he donned the face he normally gave Potter, and castigated Davis.

"_What_ did you do?"

"I- I think I accidentally−"

"Added too much crushed Bicorn Horn? −Yes, that's clear to me now, Miss Davis. There's no room for _accidents_ in my classroom… You have a zero for the day, Davis, and ten points from Slytherin for your carelessness."

At that, he strode away as Tracey covered her face her hands, and mostly everyone else gasped. Vesperra noticed the sudden change of air in the room, and knew everyone else was thinking exactly what she was. _He never takes points from Slytherin…_

She knew he must be very angry to have actually taken points from his own House for only messing up a potion… not that she had any sympathy for Tracey, of course. But it just wasn't something he would normally do. Wondering what could be stressing him out so much, she noticed her six minutes were almost up, and waited for the exact second to add the next ingredient.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. Vesperra had been stressed to an extremely short temper when she was busy with planning her revenge on Malfoy… What if Professor Snape was only acting oddly because he was cracking from the pressure of something he was trying to accomplish? And come to think of it, he'd been staring at Quirrel constantly lately. Of course, he wasn't making it obvious… But she was always watching him, and could tell where his eyes were focused, and that he wasn't even looking at her that much anymore… until today.

_And I thought he was ignoring me! How could I be so stupid…?_ She remembered how she guessed all that time ago that Professor Snape must have felt like she was avoiding him, and felt bad… Well, he was looking at her so much today, he was probably trying to make up for all the past days that he had forgotten to give her the meaningful glance she'd expect…

Speaking of which… he'd spent most of his time staring shrewdly at Quirrel, who looked even more nervous than usual when he did. She could only discern that Professor Snape suspected him of something, and was trying to find out exactly what it was. What he didn't know was… Vesperra had been extremely suspicious of Quirrel as well. It was while she was stirring in the powdered mandrake root that she decided that, after class, she'd talk to him about Quirrel.

As Snape began walking around the dungeon, surveying everyone's potions, it greatly relieved him of his stress to see that Vesperra was one of the only people not having any difficulty with their potion. Davis had finally stopped crying, but now Greengrass was being less alert to the happenings of her own potions as she spoke to her friend. He peered over the top of Vesperra's head to take a look at her potion, which was simmering calmly as she diced up a Firecrab liver.

Seeing his shadow on her table, she ceased dicing for a moment and looked over her shoulder, where Professor Snape was standing. He appeared to merely be admiring her potion for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Vesperra's hopeful face.

Rather than saying it was perfect, like usual, or just smiling slightly, he began to walk away almost immediately, but first, placed his hand softly and gently on her shoulder, and as he glided away, let it slide in between her shoulder blades, in which his fingers felt like they were trickling across her neck, and off her other shoulder.

It sent shivers down her spine, giving her the urge to whip her head back, but she stopped herself. Instead, she shuddered (in a good way) and tried to absorb what she just felt, so she'd feel it over and over again…

This, apart from the other things, he made a real effort to conceal from the rest of the class. The more he thought about what Quirrel could possibly be doing, the more anxious he became… So then, he'd look at Vesperra and he almost immediately calmed down, but afterwards, the stress became worse than it was before. He was feeling so angry, frustrated, and then, of course, remorseful and somewhat scared. It being Lily's Deathday did _not_ help his stress, and instead made him want to curse every student in sight (except for Vesperra) or chuck them out the door…

But it also made him even more eager to stop Quirrel… He'd feel like he was getting justice, and finally starting the real repayment to indirectly causing Lily's death. And he'd like to say that she'd be proud and want to forgive him… but as sure as he was that this was going to help Harry greatly, and possibly prevent him from dying soon, he couldn't feel proud of himself. He didn't think he deserved to be forgiven… All it was to him was a start.

But all the building stress could have caused him to have a mental breakdown, so he wanted to give Vesperra a reassuring shoulder-squeeze (well, it ended up more of a _stroke_), which soothed him very much, as he had expected. Something like that, though… He couldn't let any other students see.

Soon, hardly ten minutes were left, but most were still on the very last steps of their potion. Vesperra waited impatiently for the bell to sound, and didn't even leave her table until mostly everyone had left.

Snape hastily straightened the ungraded papers on his desk, and cleared away any mess. He took a large stride towards his office door, which led further into his chambers, so he could leave inconspicuously through his bedroom door and keep an eye on Quirrel. But before he even stepped foot inside his office, he heard Vesperra's voice behind him.

"Professor Snape?" she called quickly, noticing him about to leave.

The Potions Master swiveled on his foot and looked at Vesperra, but didn't turn around completely. His heart beat faster and he grew more anxious with every moment he was not on his way to Quirrel. _Why today? She had to pick today…?_

"I need to be somewhere urgently, Vesperra− Is it important?"

"Yes, Professor… It's about Quirrel."

The moment she said 'Quirrel', his rapidly beating heart stopped at once, his throat closed, and his eyes widened. Suddenly, he strode towards the dungeon's door and closed it, locked it magically, and stopped two feet in front of Vesperra, and lowered himself halfway to having his knees on the ground, using his desk for support.

"What about him?" Snape asked calmly, with a slight crack in his voice.

Vesperra was eye level with Professor Snape, and could tell by his trembling eyes that he was anxious to hear what she had to say. So she explained as well as she could.

"Sir, I've noticed you staring at him all the time, so I was sure you were suspicious of him…" He nodded in confirmation, so she continued, "as am I. Every time I walk past him, there's this _awful_ smell− but not like garlic or rotten eggs… it's like rotting flesh, or death. There's something _inside_ his turban, I know it."

Snape had noticed how much Quirrel was reeking as well, but hadn't come to Vesperra's conclusion. He gulped.

"Are you sure?"  
"I… I'm completely sure. I could have sworn I saw it moving, bulging in certain places… And today in Defense Against the Dark Arts, it was definitely putting off some sort of energy. I could see it."  
"You could_ see_ energy…?"

"Like heat waves… except it was freezing. I don't think anyone else noticed though…" She hesitated to tell Professor Snape the rest of what happened, as that would include her cursing Malfoy, but decided it was necessary. "And… listen, earlier in the Great Hall, Malfoy put something in my drink,"

He remembered seeing his hand on Vesperra's drink, and felt a sudden surge of anger towards Malfoy.

"and it made me vomit in Quirrel's room. Right then, I realized it was him and− _couldn't control myself…"_ She said the last part guiltily, because she wasn't supposed to lose control. But quickly regaining her confidence, she continued. "And I cursed him, so he vomited up everything in his stomach−"

Not sure what this was leading to that had to do with Quirrel, but curious all the same, Snape asked, "_How_ did you learn a curse like that?" _A curse? First years should only know minor jinxes at the most…_

"I… read about it in the curse book I got from the Restricted Section." she admitted. She could not lie to him… But noticing his solemn expression, she could have cried with the shame of going directly against his request. Choking back the sudden shame, she focused on her anger towards Quirrel instead. "The thing is, though, that Quirrel didn't even give me detention. Not that I wanted it, but he just seemed scared, and sent us to the Hospital Wing. He seemed less shaky− almost confident, until I cursed Malfoy, because then he seemed afraid of me. I think he didn't give me any detention because he's preoccupied…"

"That he'll be busy with something tonight, and the rest of the week… maybe many weeks." Snape inferred in a hollow voice. "I knew it." −he grabbed her shoulders− "Vesperra, I need to go. Thank you for telling me. Listen, you need to have your two-way journal at hand at all times. If you see Quirrel in the corridors, _stay away _from him. If you see him doing anything suspicious, write to me immediately. If he confronts you, give no indication you think he's up to something. If he begins to pull out a wand, curse him− I don't care what you use, or how dangerous it is. Just defend yourself if you need to, and make sure he doesn't get away."

His dark eyes hadn't widened much, but were connecting with hers with such intensity that she felt what he was feeling, and knew what he was thinking. Vesperra didn't have to ask… Quirrel was trying to do something that could, and probably would if it worked, hurt a lot of people, or damage Hogwarts. She nodded, then inhaled sharply when Professor Snape pulled her into a quick hug before disappearing into his office.

* * *

Vesperra felt a lot less guilty about learning all those curses when Professor Snape expressly told her to use them, but still had a feeling that the topic would come up later. She opened up her bag and pulled out her two-way journal and a quill, and kept them clutched in her hand as she tore through the corridors.

At the end of the one that led to Professor Snape's classroom, she started to turn right, which would lead her to the staircase to the seventh floor, where the Room of Requirement was− _Wait._ Professor Snape wanted her to avoid Quirrel, and if she was out in the open, there was a bigger chance she'd see him.

Changing directions, although reluctantly, as part of her wanted to find Quirrel just so she could curse him, she proceeded to the Slytherin Common Room instead. Past the portrait hole, Malfoy was lounging in one of the chairs, surrounded by most of the Slytherins, including the older ones. He was talking animatedly, but stopped when Vesperra entered.

She tried to walk past them all as quickly as possible, but it felt like slow-motion, with all the eyes following her and boring into her with dislike. Looking through her peripheral vision, she was angry to note that Malfoy's face was not suddenly stricken with fear, but relaxed and confident instead, since he was surrounded by others who would protect him.

A fifth year girl with her long, black hair in a braid that had been looking at Malfoy with pity narrowed her eyes at Vesperra, and looked as if she were about to call her out for attacking him… But her eyes moved to Vesperra's hand instead.

"Ooh, does Grease-perra have a diary?" she sneered, pulling out her wand. And before Vesperra even had her head turned far enough to see she was even holding her wand, she pointed to the journal and said, "Accio!"

The fifth year, as well as most of the other Slytherins, smiled in excitement and triumph as the journal soared out of her hands and towards the other girl, who caught it.

Panic arose inside Vesperra worse than any she had ever felt, but was delayed with anger when the fifth year observed aloud,

"What's the 'S' on the cover for?"

Pansy Parkinson's evil smile grew wide as she jumped up to see it, and shrieked, "'S' for Snape! She _fancies_ him!"

As everyone paused to laugh, Vesperra was drowning in her own anger and panic. There was only one thing she could think to do… In her second wave of fury today, she pulled out her wand and made a single slashing motion towards the girl's wrists, hissing "_Iniuroste_!"

She could hardly hear it over the audible gasps that filled the Common Room, but there were two faint _cracks_, and the fifth year dropped the journal, which she had only been able to undo the latch of. While she gave a sudden scream of pain and the standing Slytherins tried to help her, Vesperra ran and prepared to dive for the journal− but Malfoy jumped on it first.

Vesperra was there two seconds later, right as Malfoy was standing up and holding the journal tightly to his chest. With both hands, she wrenched it out of his grip, and for the first time ever, actually ran away. Forgetting the quill she dropped, she swooped down while she ran to grab her bag, and dashed even faster to her dorm.

Frustrated, angry tears streamed down her face and flew behind her as she escaped her fellow Slytherins… Slamming the door behind her, she dropped everything but the journal at the foot of her four-poster, and slid onto her bed. She had just cursed _another_ person badly enough to need the Hospital Wing, risked the secret of her having attacked Malfoy a couple weeks prior, and while she had managed to prevent anyone from knowing the details about the journal, they all knew it existed now. And they knew it was precious to her, if they were smart enough to discern that…

Soon enough, a good number of the Slytherins (especially Malfoy) would be plotting to get a hold of it. But that wasn't the worst of her fears… Shouldn't cursing _two_ people that badly be enough to get her expelled…?

Calming down and evening her breathing, her worries suddenly seemed irrational and she felt foolish to have thought them in the first place. Obviously, Professor Snape would understand completely that she had only cursed the fifth year for the book… And Dumbledore, the only person who had higher jurisdiction over her than Professor Snape, had sent her the journal in the first place. Surely he would understand how she flipped out for it…

Hardly fifteen minutes later, Vesperra was reluctant to leave her dorm and head to the Great Hall. Still obeying Professor Snape, but not wanting a repeat of the recent events in the common room, she stuffed her journal and a spare quill inside her robes, so no one could see them. Just in case, she waited for everyone else to exit through the portrait hole before she followed, so she wouldn't have to pass anyone.

It being the Halloween Feast, the Great Hall was so festively decorated that all the Slytherins seemed to forget about Vesperra, especially her fellow first years, because it was their first time seeing it. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of live bats fluttering in between the walls and banisters, up to the ceiling and swooping over the House tables… Candles still floated above the tables, but were now encased in small, hollow pumpkins, which gave off more of an orange-ish glow.

Despite how much she hated Halloween, as well as most holidays… Vesperra couldn't help but being somewhat impressed. She took her usual seat, and before digging in to the feast, glanced up at the staff table. Professor Snape was there, wearing an expression mingled with confusion, fear, and anger. It had to have something to do with Quirrel… or at least the absence of him. He was nowhere to be seen, but only she, Dumbledore, and Professor Snape seemed to notice or care.

Before she even had a chance to take a bite of her mutton(which looked delicious…), Vesperra's, as well as everyone else's, attention was drawn to the exit that led to the dungeons, where Quirrel was running out of, turban askew.

* * *

Thinking about what Vesperra had told him, Snape immediately took to prowling the corridors as inconspicuously as he could to Quirrel's office. He was sweating, and could hardly believe he hadn't thought of it before…

_She's right, there has to be something under his turban… But what could he be hiding? And who was he talking to before…?_

Not meeting Quirrel or having any sign of him in the corridor, he arrived at the DADA office door, which was shut completely and locked. There was no sound coming from within the room, to the utter surprise and frustration of Snape. He could only assume that Quirrel was off doing whatever it was that he meant to do, but he had no leads as to where he could be.

The only thing he could do was briskly walk aimlessly throughout Hogwarts, hoping with all his might that he would find him. For a moment, he was wishing inside his head that Vesperra would find Quirrel and curse him… but then mentally slapped himself− hard.

_How could I wish that, even for a moment, upon her?_ Sure, Vesperra was in no doubt capable of curses that could do lasting damage, but Quirrel had to be more skilled than he appeared to be. To be planning something so evil it had Dumbledore worried… he was most likely dangerous, and any student witnessing whatever he was doing would be facing him at his worst. If Vesperra had found him… there was no telling which would end up unconscious and wounded.

After about twenty minutes of merely making detours around all the possible corridors and checking every classroom door, the halls started to fill with students, meaning that it was time for dinner. The students seemed especially excited and eager to get to the Great Hall today, since it was the Halloween Feast. And once again, he felt a deep loathing for all those who felt so happy when he was quite the opposite.

Deciding he had better attend the Halloween Feast as well, both because Quirrel might be there and that people might start being suspicious of _him_, he set off in the same direction everyone else was going. Children of all Houses(except Slytherin, of course) appeared frightened as he neared them, and either shifted to the side, sped up, or slowed down as to not be within five feet of him.

Finding his seat at the staff table, he ignored the bats screeching and flying everywhere, and checked to see if Quirrel was there yet… He wasn't. Snape waited cautiously, watching most of the other Professors arrive, as well as nearly all of the students… and still, Quirrel didn't come. Since no one really liked Quirrel−at all, no one but Snape and, as he noted the apprehensive look on her face− Vesperra, neither noticed nor cared that he was not there.

As Dumbledore shifted a bit in his seat, meaning that he was about to stand to make the Pre-Feast speech (which Snape always thought was quite pointless), the old man stiffened just as quickly… Quirrel had come running into the Great Hall, looking absolutely terrified.

Upon reaching Dumbledore's chair, he faced him, and gasped, "Troll−in the dungeons−thought you ought to know." He proceeded to faint, falling flat on his back, hitting the stone floor with a disturbingly loud _crack_. There was a sudden uproar in the Great Hall, as everyone panicked and began to scream, triggering Snape's migraine… though he was panicking just as much, only inside his head.

_This is it… Oh, well thought-out, Quirrel… A very clever diversion indeed_. He thought maliciously, stone-faced as ever as he watched the mob of students that had been directed by Dumbledore to follow their House Prefects to their dorms. Tailing behind the other Professors, who were now headed down to the dungeons with the Slytherin students (whose dorms were in the dungeons, which was pretty inconvenient as the troll was there, yet lucky, because they all had the teachers to protect them), he waited anxiously for Quirrel (who had quickly came to) to give the rest of them the slip.

Just as he suspected, Quirrel slowly sank to the very back of the group, even behind Snape, who pretended not to notice. When he heard the sound of his footsteps growing softer, he evaded the other Professors just as easily, and followed close behind.

Quirrel walked briskly and confidently, and if he didn't know better, Snape would have thought he was trying to imitate _him_. But it just proved that he had a plan, and believed it well thought-out enough. Using a charm to muffle his own footsteps, he was able to follow Quirrel up through the stairs and corridors without being noticed, though the man did glance back now and then, at which Snape could hide himself quickly.

At the third floor, he figured Quirrel must have seen him, because he sped up and obviously doubled back, as if he knew he was being followed. A few minutes later, however, the distinct sound of a flute (though it sounded as if it were played by someone very inexperienced with musical instruments) led him to the next corridor over, and ultimately to a single door.

Reaching it, he actually hesitated a moment, as he suddenly knew that this was the door that Dumbledore had expressly told everyone not to enter at the beginning of the year, unless they wanted to die a most painful death. But then, he couldn't hesitate any longer, because since Quirrel must have been in there, he was suddenly sure what exactly he wanted.

Having no idea what the first thing guarding the Sorcerer's Stone would be (since Dumbledore hadn't even told_ him_ everything that would be guarding it; he only knew which teachers were contributing to it), he rushed blindly into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him as to not allow Quirrel an easy escape.

The moment he stepped into the room, there was a pathetic yelp of fright, and the music stopped at once. Before he could register what was happening, he was halfway into the room, and Quirrel was trying to get to the exit both as quickly as possible and moving as little as possible.

And that's when he noticed the gigantic− at least twenty feet tall, three-headed dog now turning its head on Snape, the source of the new noise, snarling and frothing at the mouth. Its bloodshot eyes nearly paralyzed him for a moment, but then he drew out his wand and prepared to stun it, or at least hinder it from attacking him, which it was surely about to do.

Though on the outside looking in, it would have seemed smart to be running all the while, Snape didn't. While he suddenly had his own_ life_ to be thinking about, he couldn't forget that Quirrel was still in the room, now obviously trying to get a hold of the Sorcerer's Stone. However, it seemed that he thought too soon.

Seizing his chance while the beast was looking at Snape, Quirrel ran for the exit. One of the three head's eyes followed his darting path, but gave up on him and joined the others in the new target. Now that Quirrel had run away (_very cowardly_, thought Snape), he knew he no longer had to protect the Stone for now, and attempted to follow in his wake…

But before he could take so much as a starting step towards the door or raise his wand to stop it from attacking him, a great, brown paw swiped the air, hitting his side and knocking him off his feet.

* * *

**Well, there you go! I tried not to make it too long... But made it a cliffhanger instead. Except, we all know what's going to happen, because I'm assuming you all have read the actual books. I shouldn't have too hard of a time writing the next chapter, because I'll mostly be going by the timeline in the Sorcerer's Stone from here, plus personal stuff here and there... But don't freak, it won't get boring. It'll be _pretty_ exciting, actually.**

**Also, Rate and Review! This time, I'm not asking you. It's an order- Imperio!**


	8. Book 1: Chapter 8

**I think this is the fastest I've ever updated. Well, considering most of it was events directly based off Canon, it was a lot easier to write. Plus, my exams are over, so I'll have a lot more free time. This chapter is mostly Snape, but I'm guessing a lot of people prefer Snape to OCs anyway. But it was mostly because I couldn't think of much for Vesperra to be doing at this time.**

* * *

In what seemed like only a few seconds, the Great Hall was in tumultuous uproar and scrambling to reach the exits. Quirrel had announced the escape of a troll that was now in the dungeons− or at least, implied it. The fact that it had escaped of its own accord was left for speculation, but Vesperra's suspicions were confirmed when she glanced at Professor Snape, who was staring at Quirrel's unconscious body warily, yet with revulsion. This was Quirrel's doing, but there was no telling what he meant by it.

Dumbledore had to send up purple fireworks to calm everyone down, then told the Prefects to lead their House to the dormitories. Following the rest of the Slytherins, she took one glance back and saw the staff (including Quirrel, who had just been revived) striding towards them all, ready to lead the Slytherins in. She was glad, because she, like most of the other students in her House, had realized that their dormitories were in the dungeons, which was where the troll supposedly was.

Professor Snape remained at the end of the group of Professors, and as only she seemed to notice, strayed gradually further and broke away from them, now following Quirrel, who had done the same. No one else looked his way or pointed him out, because they were either extremely frightened of the alleged troll, or too excited to see a live one.

Reluctantly, she brushed off the urge to go and follow him as well, and decided he'd do better on his own to stop whatever Quirrel was up to, and wouldn't want her to get hurt anyway.

Reaching the dungeons, the remaining teachers looked oddly perplexed and somewhat fearful when they did not catch sight of the troll. The Slytherins waited in a huddled group while Dumbledore muttered a couple incantations under his breath, and when nothing happened, they were left to their own devices and the Professors split up to search for the troll elsewhere.

As Vesperra climbed through the portrait hole, nearly squashed by a seventh year boy in the process, she felt a lot of mixed feelings… She was relieved that none of the teachers noticed Professor Snape's sudden absence, but scared for him all the same; glad that no one was speaking to her in all the chaos, and disappointed that she hadn't gotten to eat anything.

Shutting herself in her dorm, Vesperra forced both her shoes off with the opposite feet, laid on her stomach, and stared at her journal, waiting for the 'S' to flash red again.

* * *

It felt as if he had been hit with a giant boulder. The air was knocked out of him, but the pain subsided after he hit the ground, about ten feet from where he had just been standing, and a new pain erupted in his other side. Snape landed on his right arm, which felt as though it had cracked against the hard, stone floor.

Not restraining himself from crying out in pain, he still tried to ignore the pain and get to his feet as quickly as possible. He resorted to using the injured arm to push himself up, as it seemed the quicker way, and hurried towards the exit. Suddenly, though, a panicking feeling worse than the pain in his fractured arm exploded in his stomach.

Daring to look back, he saw his two-way journal, the silver 'L' gleaming despite the darkness of the room, sitting where he had landed. _It must have fallen out of my robes when it swiped at me…_

Though he had already been so close to the exit with it being almost certain that he'd make it, he forgot all his pain and made a mad dash for the journal. He could not, under any circumstances, let that journal go. It was the most precious reminder he had of Lily, and losing it on the anniversary of her death would be the worst thing he could do.

Eyeing him with hunger (or anger… it's hard to tell what exactly a giant, three-headed dog is thinking), the beast lunged its head forward when Snape was halfway to the journal, and seized him by the leg.

"Aauughh!" He screamed in pain as one of the heads' teeth sank deeper into his leg. It dragged him upwards into the air by his leg, and started to thrash him around as if he were a chew toy. Bleeding, nauseous, and enduring a stinging pain in both his arm and leg, Snape was somehow able to focus long enough to plan out how to save himself.

He felt as though his brain was shaking around inside his head, he was being thrashed so hard. As one thrash nearly slammed his body to the floor, which would have knocked him out cold, he was able to reach his uninjured arm out and seize the journal. Whispering a hoarse "Thank _God_," he struggled to steady his arm and aim his wand, but finally−

"_Conjuctivita_!" There was a flash of orange light from his wand, and the head that was holding him in its clamped jaws by the leg let go and closed its eyes, howling in pain from the curse. Snape fell a couple feet to the floor, and didn't waste time getting to his feet and escaping through the door.

Running all the while, he used a non-verbal incantation to heal the fracture in his arm, and the pain was gone. But there was still the worse pain in his leg, which was bloody and mangled. He used "_Tergeo_" to siphon the excess blood off, so it wasn't dripping, but no spell he tried would heal the wound altogether. Assuming it would take more to heal a bite from a Cerberus, he decided to just hide it with his robes for now, and worry about it later.

Desperately hoping that he would rejoin the others before Quirrel did, he ran as fast as he could back to the dungeons… But there was no one there. _They've either already found the troll, or are looking for it in other parts of the floor−_

McGonagall's footsteps sounded louder than normal in the quiet corridors, and were in sync with his rapid heartbeat.

"Severus," she called out in her shrill voice, panting as fast as he was, and apparently took his exhausted person for having just been thoroughly searching for the troll. "Have you any sign of the troll yet?"

Before he could answer, there was a high-pitched scream and a crashing noise echoed in their corridor. Snape and McGonagall exchanged looks, and they dashed off for the source of the noise. Every running step stung and sent a pain through him that made him want to just stop right there, but he continued running, tried not to put too much pressure on the wounded leg, and hid his pain behind his usual grimace.

The screams and crashes grew louder and more frequent until finally, they reached the girls bathroom, where water was leaking out from. There was a final crash, and McGonagall rushed ahead of him and burst in. He entered behind her, and he heard running footsteps behind him− Quirrel ran in after him, and nearly slipped on the wet tile.

In front of them were Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger surrounding an unconscious mountain troll, which Quirrel nearly fainted at the sight of. As McGonagall thinned her lips as much as possible and prepared to chew them out, Snape bent over the troll, and examined it for marks, wounds, or any other signs of how it could have been knocked out. For several minutes, he absolutely _refused_ to believe that three first years −especially _Potter_− defeated a mountain troll on their own.

Anger surged through him, as he couldn't help but be reminded of James, who always had to be the hero and show off, even when he was risking his friends' and his own life. He had the urge to interrupt McGonagall's castigation of them and ruthlessly give them all detentions, but then a different anger flooded him− for Quirrel.

Turning back to look at the man, who was shaking, clutching his heart, and sitting on a broken toilet, he gave him a deadly glare. Quirrel wasn't staring back, though. He eyed Potter with dislike, but not the same way Snape did. It seemed almost disappointed, like he was upset he hadn't been killed by the troll.

_Of course he's disappointed, he wants to kill him! Dammit, he's smarter than I thought… going after the Stone and the boy in one go? How am I supposed to keep up with it? If Potter had been killed today…_

He threw Potter a swift, piercing look, to try and read his face. How did he take down a troll…? That kid wasn't that skilled in magic… _Oh, I suppose 'bravery' got him through it, like it does all Gryffindors!_ Nevertheless, he was thankful that he was able to save himself this time. Although, because this was the first life-threatening situation Potter had been in (as far as he knew), there were definitely more to come, most likely at the hands of Quirrel.

But that's not all the look was for. _Potter's here, and not in his dorm. That means he snuck away from the group, and came here… _Snape was suddenly sure that he and his orange friend had seen him on their way here. And that was the last thing he needed− for Potter to suspect he was up to something. Of course, he didn't want the boy to like him, and didn't expect him to… and it _would_ be better if he had no idea that he was protecting him, since he'd ask too many questions… But Snape didn't want it at the other end of the extreme. He didn't want him to think _he_ was the one trying to kill him, either…

Not bothering to pay attention to McGonagall's speech to the trio and their response, the next thing he heard was, "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this."

As the children left, he turned to her and said, "Minerva, where _is_ Albus?"

"He had to run an errand, Severus."

_Run an errand, in the middle of all this…?_ He thought as he and McGonagall left the bathroom, letting Quirrel take care of the troll. _Typical._

When they parted ways, he thought about sneaking back to the bathroom to see if Quirrel would start to head back to the room with the three-headed dog, but decided against it. _He's not going to try anything else tonight…_ Thoroughly exhausted, Snape limped to his chambers in the dungeons, and immediately removed the journal from inside his robes. Setting it on his bed, he gingerly removed his robes and caressed his mangled leg.

_I can't go to Madam Pomfrey, she'll ask questions… There's no doubt Albus can heal it, but he's on an errand…_

His leg now throbbed with pain, and even more so when any pressure was put on it. Not wanting to risk unnecessary pain, he only put on his nightshirt and left his lower half naked, and carefully laid the injured leg on the softest part of his bed. Snape opened his two-way journal and took out a quill and some ink− He _had_ to talk to Vesperra after what had happened.

* * *

Vesperra had fallen asleep with her head on the journal, and a sudden _thumping_ pressure woke her up. Jolting up, she saw the journal, thrashing about and 'S' glowing red, beneath her. A wave of excitement surged through her as she hastened to undo the latch, and heard Professor Snape's new message;

_I'm back._

Though extremely relieved that he was okay, she felt annoyed that his greeting didn't include a bit more detail. She figured he was leaving it up to her to ask the questions…

_**What happened? Did Quirrel let the troll out? What was he up to? Did you find out anything about his turban? **_

Snape hesitated in answering… He couldn't blame her for being so curious and she did deserve to know… But there were some things he couldn't tell her, either on Dumbledore's orders or for her own good.

_Though I have no direct proof, I am sure that Quirrel did let the troll out, as a distraction. You know, Vesperra, you're very smart… Potter definitely couldn't have deducted that. Anyway, I followed him, and he was headed to the third floor corridor on the right-hand side. Listen, I would never have even mentioned it for fear that curiosity would get the better of you, but I feel you're much more mature and reliable than any of the other students. Besides, you deserve to know, after the vital information you gave me about Quirrel; There's a gigantic, three-headed dog in that room, and it's guarding something. I can't tell you what that is, but I know Quirrel must want it. I don't think he knows how to get past it, though, because he ran out as soon as I got there. And of course, I must have escaped as well, because I'm here. Sadly, no, I did not discover anything about his turban. But as for the troll, that Granger girl went looking for it, and she would have died if Potter and his ginger friend didn't rush to the scene to save the day… The troll's been knocked out and returned to its home underneath the school, but it's pure luck that those three are alive._

He read over his version of the events to make sure he was telling her everything he could without lying, and slashed the corner.

Vesperra waited for several minutes, and was beginning to think that she had asked too much, and Professor Snape had gotten mad at her. Finally, the deep, soothing (and somewhat nasal) voice of Professor Snape startled her as it began his newest message, which took up an entire page. She beamed when he praised her intelligence and when he told her what she was sure he would never have divulged to anyone else but Dumbledore.

_**It's too bad the three-headed dog didn't eat Quirrel… And don't worry, I'm not stupid enough to go in there. But this thing that he's trying to steal− I respect that you can't tell me what it is, but why does he want it? Would it kill someone, give him power, or…what? And how did I know Potter was involved in this… Now he'll be even more famous for something that was merely luck. It would have been better if the troll had killed him, or at least broke his neck. Then, he wouldn't have all that fame that he earned by doing nothing, and his new nickname would be 'The Boy Who Was Beaten To Death By A Troll.'**_

Snape laughed at her comment, and part of him wanted Potter to have been hurt by the troll as well. But then he remembered what day it was, and what that meant. He couldn't tell Vesperra why exactly he didn't want him dead, but…

_As exceedingly arrogant as Potter is, he doesn't deserve to die. Albeit, I admit he has an unfortunate knack for surviving what would indefinitely have killed anyone else. As for the thing Quirrel wants, I suppose you could say it would give him power. And Quirrel's the last person we want to have power, isn't he?_

_**Obviously… I can see why he'd want it, too. He's just so pathetic, he wants other people to have to answer to him for a change.**_

_Speaking of which, Vesperra, do you still have the book on curses that you checked out from the library?_

When Vesperra explained why Quirrel must want power, the tone in her voice gave it away that she felt the same way about herself. It was too the way he felt about himself as a child, and didn't want her to make the same mistakes.

She knew this was coming. Nervously, she settled for a one-word answer;

_**Yes.**_

_I want you to return it to the library tomorrow._

_**Okay.**_

Vesperra needn't question him; she knew very well why Professor Snape didn't fancy her having a book full of dangerous curses. Feeling a knot tighten in the pit of her stomach, she felt more ashamed than she thought possible… He was the only person that had ever made her feel remorse. However, she prayed with all her might that he wouldn't find out about that fifth year's wrist.

Noting that she didn't ask him why, he knew she must have been afraid of him getting mad. It then occurred to him that Vesperra might do whatever he told her to do, even if she really didn't want to do it, simply because it was him giving the order. A reminiscent smile overwhelmed his usual scowl as he remembered Lily, and how she used to hang onto his every word, and did anything as long as it pleased him.

But that was when they were small children, and soon enough, she had become more independent, and stopped listening to him so much. He scowled again, and hoped Vesperra would never grow out of him.

_Good, then… I've had a long day, and I want to get some sleep. Good night.._

_**Good night.**_

* * *

For the remainder of the week, Snape kept an extra-close watch on Quirrel. He had told Dumbledore everything that happened, and the Headmaster expressed his worries about the Stone (in a very non-worried tone, though). They both agreed that Quirrel was not only after the Sorcerer's Stone, but also after Harry, for some reason. At this, Snape brought up an issue they had been arguing about periodically.

"Why don't you just _sack_ him, Albus? And keep him far away from Hogwarts? Then everyone will be fine!"

"Severus, how would it look if I fired Quirrel all of a sudden, without any formal reason for doing so?" He replied serenely.

"When have you ever cared how something _looked_? Everything you _do_ attracts another handful of owls from parents or Ministry officials that think you're absolutely crackers!"  
Snape stared at him with such a burning curiosity and frustration, but Dumbledore stared back with his misty blue eyes twinkling, as usual.

"You've really got me there, Severus." he answered unexpectedly. "And I may just be absolutely crackers, but some things are meant to remain unchanged… and to play out as necessary."

"So if Quirrel goes and kills Potter, it's just 'playing out as necessary?'"

"I'm sure it won't be, Severus, if you have anything to say about it."

With an annoyed growl, he had left Dumbledore's office, still limping. Now that the old bat had made him angry, he wanted anyone _but_ him to heal his leg. Whether Dumbledore noticed it or not, he didn't know, as he said nothing of it.

* * *

On the first of November, Vesperra took her bag to breakfast and returned the curse book to Madam Pince first thing, and felt the seemingly permanent knot in her stomach loosen when she did. Walking out of the library and to her first period, she was almost glad to be rid of the thing.

She spent most of her free time thinking and forming theories about Quirrel, but left the actual spying up to Professor Snape. It was, after all, what he was spending all of his time doing, even more so than before Halloween. Secretly, she hoped Quirrel would either die or get sacked by the end of the year, so she would have more time with Professor Snape. And it wasn't a hollow dream either, because everybody knew the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was supposed to be cursed.

There was much talk of Quidditch around Hogwarts; so much, in fact, that even Vesperra couldn't ignore it. The Quidditch season was starting and the first game would be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin on Saturday morning. Everyone was talking about Gryffindor's newest seeker, Harry Potter.

_He breaks the rules, then gets rewarded for it?_ she seethed, hating Potter even more the moment this news reached her ears. _Well, I've done worse, and wasn't exactly punished… But I didn't get everyone to like me by it− people hated me even more.._

Well, not everyone liked Potter. A lot of the Slytherins called over to him in between classes and taunted him about whether or not he would even be able to stay on his broom. Some, like Vesperra, avoided him altogether and just threw him deadly glares. And then there were a couple that took more of a direct approach.

"Hey− hey Potter," Malfoy jeered from across the corridor as Vesperra passed, unnoticed. Obviously expecting some clever insult, Potter wheeled around to face him. "I hope you fall off your broomstick and die." With a would-be friendly smile, he continued walking to his next class, looking pleased with himself.

Vesperra would have smiled if anyone but Malfoy had said it, because she completely agreed. Honestly, she couldn't have cared less about Quidditch. But the only people that hated Harry Potter more than she did were Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape, and as a Slytherin, she felt winning was the most important thing. Even though she normally prized her own _individual_ triumphs rather than the collective, there was one thing on her mind that day.

_Slytherin must win Saturday's game._

But naturally, her mind found itself contemplating more important things near the end of the day, which was, as we all know, Potions class.

* * *

The pain in his leg had dulled, but the wound often started bleeding at random times and soaking through his robes, which he had to siphon the blood out of every time it did. However, he ignored it, and proceeded to teach each class as per usual, though his attitude a bit nastier than normal.

When Vesperra entered his dungeon classroom on Friday, his leg throbbed slightly less as he remembered the reason his leg was so mangled in the first place. _Yes… It was a small price to pay, to keep the journal safe. _He didn't know what he'd have done if he hadn't seen it and went back for it… He wouldn't have a mangled leg, but he wouldn't have the journal, either.

Every moment he stood, talking or not, the wound burned more intense than the last. Snape very much wanted to head back to his room and just lay down on his bed with no pressure on his injured leg, or at least sit down for the rest of the hour, but he couldn't. No one would overlook a personality change as obvious and abrupt as that. Like every other day, he would prowl around the room to observe the students' potions, sneer at any less-than-perfect ones, and make sarcastic remarks.

As Professor Snape finished his usual instructions at the beginning of class, Vesperra noticed his scowl falter, and become sort of a grimace− of pain. Looking up from her potion every few minutes, hoping to see him gazing her way, she didn't. He was never looking at her, or really at anyone. In fact, his eyes seemed almost glazed whenever they raked the classroom, despite his brow being furrowed deeply.

She figured he must have been deep in thought about Quirrel, as he had been since before Halloween. However, his temper seemed to be longer than normal…

Snape passed cauldron after cauldron, forgetting to comment on each of their flaws. It felt as though the minute he'd open his mouth, he might cry out from the rapidly increasing pain in his leg… But then it would subside, and the pain would feel like it was apart from him for a second. Then it would come back.

Each individual throb felt like a few minutes, and it was enough to keep his brain thoroughly occupied at the moment. The students nearly gaping up at him from their cauldrons meant nothing to him, and his eyes were even slipping out of focus− He, one of the world's best Occlumens _and_ Legillimens, unable to focus…

The sight of Vesperra restored rational thought in him, and he remembered the pain-relieving potion he had taken earlier, the rest of it still sitting on his desk… At merely the thought of it, he felt enough relief to focus on Vesperra's potion as she stared imploringly at him through her peripheral vision, and note that it was coming along perfectly. Before he returned to his desk for a full relief, he tried to at least smile at her, but his mouth just twitched.

Nonchalantly stirring her potion, Vesperra became a bit worried about Professor Snape. His face, rather than pursed in annoyance, was relaxed in a probable attempt to shut out pain. Every other step he took, he leaned a little too far down, and once, it looked as though he might buckle over. The Potions Master made his usual route over to her, and his eyes became less glazed, but still not completely in focused. He seemed to notice her peering from the side of her cauldron, but remained silent, and one side of his mouth twitched a bit.

His limp became quite obvious as he ignored the last few students that he hadn't looked over even once yet as Snape walked briskly to his desk, instantly sighted a midnight blue tonic bottle near a stack of parchment, and uncorked it. Not caring if every first year Slytherin saw him or if they became suspicious whatsoever, he downed it. The effects were immediate; the pain in his wounded leg ceased throbbing, and instead became more of a dull, yet constant pressure.

Vesperra would have normally just assumed that Professor Snape was thirsty and required refreshment, but adding this to his strange behavior just previously and the fact that they had suddenly stopped, she could not accept it as normal. As he returned to observing the students and now had retorts for where they all had gone wrong, her worries subsided, but didn't disappear altogether.

She felt a pang of hurt of her own when she watched how Professor Snape continued to limp throughout the class. This was the first time she could ever recall him showing any sort of weakness. It just… hurt her to know something must be wrong with him, and almost angry that she wasn't told anything about it.

When everyone had turned in their potion and Professor Snape dismissed them, Vesperra took her time gathering up her things. Everyone but her had left when she was hardly halfway to the door.

Snape thought nothing of it, as she was almost always the last one to leave, and he noticed that she always seemed reluctant to leave his classroom. But as she strode towards the door a bit faster than she had been moments before and pushed it closed rather than leave through it, he became slightly nervous.

Wheeling around as she shut the door and pressing her back to it, she immediately looked Professor Snape straight in the eye, and said, "What's wrong with your leg?" in an impassive, yet somewhat demanding tone.

Her eyes plunged into his as he tried to keep his face still, and she didn't break the gaze− she didn't even blink. Realizing that she would likely stare him down for all eternity unless he answered, he opened his mouth.

"Nothing."

A strange sort of anger rose and became apparent on Vesperra's face. He had lied to her− lied straight to her face.

"Yes, there is," Snape was taken aback at the sudden defiance in her voice. "You've been limping all day, and I could see the pain on your face! I know something's wrong!"

"I assure you, Vesperra, I'm completely fine." he replied, though sure that she wouldn't buy it.

Her mind raced, trying to think of how he might have hurt his leg. But it didn't matter, because if he wouldn't tell her, she'd force him. Before Professor Snape's eyes could even follow her right hand flying to her left sleeve, she had her wand pointed at the bottom of his robes, and she said clearly and quickly, "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

His robes lifted as if pulled by an invisible force, but stopped at his knees. The moment he realized what was happening, he didn't attempt a Shield Charm or any other means to stop her, because it was inevitable she'd find out anyway.

As his robes lifted, Vesperra nearly dropped her wand in shock from what she saw. Professor Snape's leg was bloody and mangled from ankle to knee, with bits of flesh hanging off and−she could have sworn she saw−part of a bone showing. Anger disappearing and horror surfacing on her face, she gasped, moving her hand to cover her mouth, and tears began to form at the lids of her eyes.

"What− what happened?" she managed to choke out.

Pushing his robes down for fear that they might lift higher, Snape faced what he had been dreading.

"On Halloween, after I had followed Quirrel into the room and he ran away… the three-headed dog grabbed me by my leg with its teeth before I was able to escape." He didn't mention how it was all because he had dropped the journal, for he knew she would feel guilty, and that would even worse than what she must be feeling now.

_But he told me everything that happened later that night…_

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she demanded, though trying not to raise her voice. "Didn't you think I had the right to know?" Her wand was no longer pointing at him, but now at the ground as she stiffened her arms to her sides in anger.

"Because I knew you'd be like this…" said Snape bitterly. "And I didn't want you to worry, or feel any of my pain… I _knew_ it would hurt you if I was hurt." he added at Vesperra's momentarily bewildered expression. "Because it hurt me when you were thrashing in your sleep− you saw how carried away I got!"

Eyes softening as well as the rest of her body, she considered him. She understood what he said, and it was true; she had felt his pain for a moment, when she saw the pain in his eyes… But she was still frustrated and wasn't going to give up that easily.

"If I nearly had my leg ripped off by the giant three-headed dog, though, I think I'd have told you."  
"Of course you would have. You'd have thought I had something that would cure it, because I _am_ the Potions Master… But I don't have anything to fix this, and I can't go to anyone else, because no one else can know… And I thought you needn't know, because there was nothing you could do about it."

There was a slow, steady trickle of tears leaking from her eyes now, as she regarded how close Professor Snape might have been to death, and the stress he must have felt afterwards.

"I'm sorry." And before he could mutter his own apologies, she continued. "But what about Dumbledore? Surely he would know how…?"

"No. I'm… He's− not him. I don't think−"  
"It's a pride thing, isn't it? …Or are you just angry with him at the moment?"

All he could do for the few ensuing seconds was squint in her direction, making sure he had just heard her right. Finally, he drew breath.

"You know, you have a really annoying knack for reading my face when I least want you to." He said this seriously, with a hint of real annoyance in his voice as he did, but Vesperra smiled knowingly. "Yes, I am mad at Dumbledore−"  
"Well make up with him and get your leg healed! You've been walking around with a mangled leg for the past few days, and it's not going to go away on its own. There's got to be _someone_… Why not go to St. Mungo's?"

"Floo's blocked for direct travel in Hogwarts fires… and to get one registered for a day would require Ministry approval, and they'd want to know the reason." he explained as he folded his arms in frustration; Snape had clearly thought this over already.

"You have to find someone to help… Or at least bandage it up for you. And I'm sure that's either part of the pride thing or not wanting to do things the Muggle way, but sometimes that's better than nothing."

She stared at him pleadingly, still pushing herself against the door, and waited for his response. He stared back, and then looked away.

"Alright. I promise I'll get it done as soon as I can, okay? Is that good enough for you?"

"Yes, it is." said Vesperra with a triumphant satisfaction. "I hope the pain goes away, Professor." With that, she stepped away from the door, keeping one hand on it, thrust it open, and left.

* * *

Snape slumped into his seat, utterly awestruck at her. She had spoken to him with such fiery defiance and at the same time, respect, that he swore she was the reincarnation of Lily.

_Lily would like her… _he mused with a half smile._ And she's right− I can't go on much longer with my leg like this. But what can I do?_

He could think of no one that he could confide in with his predicament and allow to heal, or at least bandage up, his leg. Either way, stalking Quirrel was still a priority, and he couldn't stay there to mull things over when there was spying to be done.

Fighting the urge to wince every time he put pressure on his injured leg, he strode out of his classroom and into the corridors beyond. Snape found it difficult to keep his footsteps quiet while limping, so once he was near Quirrel's office, he used a Silencing Charm on his feet.

He found the Defense Against the Dark Arts door, and checked behind him to make sure no one else was around. Pressing an ear to the it, he heard absolutely nothing but the scratching of a quill and Quirrel's muttering, which could only mean he was grading assignments. In the next few minutes, there were no new sounds, and he grew restless.

Then, with no warning and no running footsteps prior, he heard a voice say, "Professor Snape?"

* * *

Heart stopping, he jumped and twisted in midair to meet Vesperra, who was standing about five feet from him. Normally, he'd find it a pleasant surprise, but she just left his room fifteen minutes prior. He calmed down and took a single stride away from Quirrel's door, looking back at it as if afraid that it would swing open.

Vesperra glanced at the door and back at Professor Snape, not all too surprised to see him there, but not completely pleased either.

"You weren't trying to−" they said at the same time.

"No," Snape answered hastily as Vesperra said, "Yes, but−"

They gave each other an odd look, both wondering if their assumptions matched up with what the other actually meant to ask them. Vesperra broke the silence first, and explained herself, whether Professor Snape wanted it in the first place or not.

"I thought you'd have gone off to get your leg healed, so I figured I could do some spying for you, in case you missed anything."

A great rush of affection for Vesperra exploded inside him at her explanation… _She actually wants to help me… I haven't even told her what exactly I'm doing, and she still trusts me that much._ But he didn't mention it to her.

"Well, there's really no spying to be done… Not anymore, anyway. He's not doing anything interesting. I doubt he'll try anything within the week." said Snape, as he chivvied Vesperra and himself away from Quirrel's office so he couldn't hear them. "And you know watching him would always be a priority, so I'd indefinitely come here first… but thank you."

Without warning, the door to Quirrel's office creaked open and the trembling professor stepped out as Snape whirled around and Vesperra stared at him suspiciously, ready to pull her wand out. He stared at them both, eyes widening and lower jaw trembling in fear, as if he had stumbled upon his worst fear.

Snape waited casually for Quirrel to say something or acknowledge them in a way other than staring at them stupidly. Vesperra caught on, and swayed a bit where she stood with her arms folded behind her back with playful impatience. The DADA teacher relaxed his eyes slightly after a minute, but his body became no less stiff. Slowly, he inched away from his door, closed it, and tore his terrified gaze from them as his pace became faster… and he was gone.

"I thought you said he hadn't been up to anything in there." Vesperra said, still quietly, after Quirrel left.

"He wasn't… He was just afraid to see us together." said Snape. "Quirrel knows I know what he wants, and knows you're at least suspicious of him. He probably suspects you're passing me information… Whatever his plans were, he's definitely rethinking them now."

"Hmm… I don't see how he could be very difficult to stop when he's afraid of _me_. I'm only a first year!"

"A lot of people are afraid of you, Vesperra." he replied darkly, and Vesperra frowned.

"But the other teachers aren't, are they?"

"Well, some of them might be." She caught the reluctant tone in his words and purposely distanced herself from him.

"_You're_ not afraid of me, are you?"

_Oh, why did I say anything? She's damn smart, I knew she'd end up wondering that… but am I?_

"I− No, Vesperra, I'm not. I'm afraid _for_ you, and what'll happen to you if you hurt someone, or if you end up hurting yourself…"

She wouldn't have minded if everyone in the school, including all the teachers feared her, because at least it would mean everyone would leave her alone. But if Professor Snape feared her… she couldn't even bear to think about it. What he said, she thought, was very selfless.

Relieved, she gave him a smile that reached her eyes before it reached her lips.

Snape, too, was relieved, and exhaled calmly, "I'll go and see what can be done about my leg."

* * *

Without a single idea of what he was going to do, he turned right at the end of the corridor, and decided a walk outside would help him think. The fresh air hit his face like a soaking wet cloth and seemed to awaken him; he hadn't left the castle in days.

Walking through the freezing courtyard, Snape wished he had donned a scarf before going outside. November had brought the usual chill to Hogwarts grounds, and his boots sloshed in the grass, where that morning's frost had melted. These were the only times that he actually enjoyed being outside, when the air was just as cold as he was. With the misty gray clouds blocking all sunlight, his skin would stay sallow as ever, the way he liked it.

As he limped across the grass, he noticed Potter and his friends standing in a huddle, no doubt trying to get warm off each other's body heat. The trio seemed to notice him as well, because they stepped closer together and bore guilty expressions. Suspicious, he started towards them with a smirk, relishing their looks of terror at being caught.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?" asked Snape icily, expecting him to have broken a huge school rule and Granger to rat him out. Instead, the boy said nothing and only showed him the book he was holding, rather than something from behind him, which he was sure there was.

It was _Quidditch Through The Ages_… nothing suspicious. But when Snape glanced from the book to Potter, he didn't see young Harry. He saw James (which wasn't very hard, considering they looked so much alike), holding a book on Quidditch in one hand and a stolen Snitch in the other, smirking as though he was better than everyone else for being such a Quidditch prodigy.

That sport was just one of the many things that linked the boy he was supposed to be protecting with the man he hated more than anything and how Lily had chosen him over Snape. He wouldn't have it.

"Library books are not to be taken outside school," said Snape, hiding his true fury. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

Though Potter complied and handed it over without resistance, he made a point to wrench it out of his hand and turn away at the same time. Limping away, he wondered what the real thing they were guilty of was for a moment, but cared less as he gripped the book tightly in his hand.

It was soon dinner in the Great Hall, and Snape had stuffed Potter's book in his robes; he would determine its fate later. As he ate, his leg still throbbed. Vesperra glanced at him many times, as if trying to read in his face whether he had fixed it yet. He avoided her eyes, because he started to feel guilty each time she looked at him.

Potter glanced at him as well, which felt unwelcome and yet, he craved Lily Evans's eyes staring into his, and agreed with his instincts to look back. They were pleading and hopeful, a look he might have enjoyed if he didn't know exactly what it meant. The owner of that imploring gaze merely wanted to know when he would get his precious book back, because he obviously assumed Snape would give it to him eventually.

_Oh, he's not getting it back… ever._

And that's when the idea struck him− he knew who he could trust to help with his leg. It was the one person he knew that confiscated students' possessions as a hobby, particularly enjoyed giving cruel punishments, and hated children almost as much as he did… _Filch._

As to not appear suspicious, he ate his stew at a normal pace and waited until a decent amount of people had finished to leave the Great Hall himself. When he passed Vesperra on his way out, he noticed her look at his leg, which was obviously still untreated, and then throw him an impatient glance.

First, Snape hurried down to Filch's office, which was deserted. He didn't expect much different, because the old caretaker was usually out with his beloved cat, prowling around for students that appeared to be up to something. It was why he somewhat liked him… If Snape needed something done, he wouldn't even need to pay the man. Torturing students was enough reward for him.

The next thing that came to mind was Peeves. Filch hated the Poltergeist, and not just in annoyance like most of the students and teachers, who were often amused by his antics. He strived to expel him, always to no avail, because Dumbledore wasn't so merciless.

Wherever Peeves was causing havoc, as he always did, Filch was bound to be. But he couldn't just call out for him… so Snape listened for obnoxious noises and searched the corridors until he ran into someone. Or… ran _through_ what was _left_ of someone…

"Baron, do you know where Peeves is?" he asked the ghost splattered with silver, spectral blood as he spun around on his heel.

"He was _just_ down in the kitchens, harassing the House Elves! But don't worry, Professor, I scared him stiff and Filch is excited out of his mind−"

"Where is Filch?" he interrupted, wondering why he hadn't asked that in the first place.

"I suppose he's off complaining to the Headmaster…"

Leaving the Bloody Baron hanging on those words, Snape rudely walked straight through him and towards Dumbledore's office, feeling triumphant. However, on the way there, he passed the Staff Room door, which was open. Inside, he could hear the raspy voice of Argus Filch. As he stopped, Mrs. Norris, the red-eyed Maine Coon that patrolled the hallways and acted as Filch's usual tip-off, appeared at the base of the door and sat there.

Without waiting for the Caretaker to open it for him, he limped inside the room, where Filch was bent over a table, and muttering angrily while writing something.

"Argus, why aren't you speaking with Dumbledore?" he asked, startling him enough that it seemed he spilled ink on whatever he was writing. "Wasn't Peeves just harassing the House Elves?"

Bending down to pet Mrs. Norris, Filch scowled worse, screwing up his already wrinkled face. "Dumbledore said I was 'urging for Peeve's expulsion so frequently' that I have to start filing written complaints." He then made sort of a whimpering sound, and returned to writing his complaint.

"I need a favor." said Snape as he closed the door behind him and pulled his robes above his knees, showing his mangled leg. "Could you bandage this up, please?"

Filch gaped, frightened at the bloody mess he could hardly call a leg. Afraid to offend Snape, he hesitated before asking, "What happened to your leg? …I need to know what caused it to properly fix it." he added hastily, just in case.

"Got bitten by a giant, three-headed dog…" The caretaker started to open his mouth for another question, but Snape answered it for him. "You can't tell anyone. But you can do something about it, can't you?"

"Oh− Yes, yes I c-can." he stammered, still disgusted at the bloody sight. Snape pulled a chair out and sat on it, keeping his robes above his knees. Filch fumbled for something at his belt, and pulled out a strangely shaped bottle. He squirted something clear from it onto a rag, and dabbed at the wound.

"What is that stuff? Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Snape asked skeptically.

"It's disinfectant. Not a potion− Muggles use it. But I can't brew any potions… and it should work on bites. Saliva _is_ saliva…"

His explanation didn't really reassure Snape at all, and in fact made him feel like he was better off without attempting to heal it this way. But it was better than nothing. Wincing at the stinging pain the 'disinfectant' brought him at every dab, which was worse than the original throbbing, he tried to think of something else.

Vesperra would return to being happy with him after it was all done, so that would make the pain worth it… And he couldn't kid himself; He couldn't have gone on forever, just limping all the time. There was a good chance that the wound would get infected after a while, anyway. He might have died from an infection, but now he was getting it fixed and he'd be fine…

Before he knew it, the stinging was gone and Filch was wrapping a bandage around his lower leg. Coming out of his daze, his sense of pride was back.

"I _think_ I can do this part myself…" he said curtly, but Filch showed no sign of being offended, and began to hand him bandages. As he wrapped each one around and tied it, he felt slight relief with his raw skin losing contact with air, and instead bound by the pressure of cloth.

"Blasted thing," said Snape angrily, now feeling like venting some of the past day's pain and frustration. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Though he was rather angry at Dumbledore for allowing such a dangerous beast into Hogwarts, which surely could have killed him, he realized something quite relieving the moment he said these words. _If it nearly killed me, what are the chances Quirrel could get past it?_ But then again, when he had first gotten in there, the beast wasn't attacking him. _So Quirrel actually has a lead…_

His musings were interrupted by the slight creaking of the door and detected movement from his peripheral vision. Panicking, he whipped his head around, hearing his neck crack, and saw Potter standing in the doorway looking as though he were about to run away.

"POTTER!" Snape yelled, face twisted with more fury than he had felt in a long time, as he hurried to hide his leg.

The boy looked absolutely terrified. Oh, the Hell that would be wrought upon him later… but Snape's heart pounded so hard in his chest that he could hardly focus on what punishment he'd give him− instead, it was intermingled hatred and fear that dominated him at that moment.

Apparently trying to appear innocent, Potter regained his confident look, and dared to speak. "I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! _OUT_!" Potter's eyes widened and he ran away, leaving Snape staring at the place where he had just been standing in pure hatred.

_How DARE he? How dare that pompous little brat sneak around and spy on me, and have the nerve to ask for his book back?_ Not wanting to discuss it with Filch or stick around long enough to allow him to provoke a conversation, he hastened to finish bandaging the last of his exposed wound.

Without thanking Filch, he dropped his robes and started towards the door, but stopped just before reaching the doorway. Snape pulled out Potter's book from within his robes with an evil smirk.

"Here, Argus. I know how much you love keeping things that students will never see again… Namely, Potter." he growled, and Filch took the book from his outstretched hand with both a grateful and malicious smile. Nothing left to say, he retreated to his chambers.

Once there, he continued to resist the urge to punch something, and just let himself burn alive in his loathing for Harry Potter. And he was protecting _this_ kid… _This_ kid, who was merely a smaller and scar-wearing version of his dad. No… No matter what Albus said, he was nothing like Lily… nothing like her at all…

Stressed within an inch of mental breakdown, he hurried, still with a slight limp, to his trunk, and found one of his spare bottles of firewhisky. The cold glass on his fingers only strengthened his desire to drink, for release from rational thought, the one thing that was plaguing him… But he took one look at the dusty bottle and put it back.

_No. I can't drink tonight… The last thing I need is to make some drunken mistakes that I won't remember tomorrow, and then have a huge hangover. Besides, how would that look… Me, the Head of Slytherin House, hung over on the first Quidditch match of the season?_ He felt a strange pang, and his head hurt worse. _Oh, God Dammit, why did I have to think 'Quidditch'?_

There was only one other thing that would help him in this state, and it was something he hadn't even thought to do in the past week, with all that was going on. Snape nearly leaped onto his bed and reached into his pillow, pulling out his journal, which bore a silver 'L' on the cover. Flipping to the last page, he read Lily's last message through enough times for it to give him hope, and forget for a fleeting second how much he hated her son.

Kissing the page, he closed the latch and stuffed his face into his pillow in an attempt to relax and not let the hatred slowly come back to him. Suddenly, he shot upright and started frantically grabbing for a quill and ink from his desk, and opened the journal again, this time to an empty page. If there was one thing that could calm him down, it was Vesperra.

* * *

She sat at her window, staring into the dark gray sky, wishing something entertaining would happen, but enjoying the peaceful mountain scene nevertheless. After meeting Professor Snape and meeting him again, she had done nothing but worry about his leg and plot ways to torture Quirrel for having lured him to his near-demise.

The previously stagnate book beside her began to glow, and she had it open immediately; she had seen the reflection in the glass.

_I just had Filch bandage my leg up, and it's fine now, so you can stop fussing over me._

_**I wasn't fussing.**_

_Well, you were more worried about me than I was. I'm 31, I can take care of myself. _

He didn't intend the second sentence with the same rudeness that he used less than an hour before with Filch, but instead reassuringly.

_**Would you have tried to get something done about your leg if I hadn't told you to?**_

Alas, defeated, by a first year… A very clever first year, though.

_I suppose not. Vesperra, forgive me for being so stubborn. It's just difficult to believe that there's anyone that cares enough about me to use force._

_**You, of all people, deserve to have someone to care about you. Has no one ever really cared about you?**_

_Not in the past ten years, no. Well, as far as I know, at least. I don't think I've ever had any students secretly in love with me or anything._

Vesperra felt sad for him, but smiled at the second comment. Then she felt embarrassed and had an empty panicking feeling, wondering if Professor Snape thought _she_ was in love with him. She shrugged it off, and forced herself to assume he was only joking.

_**Being 'in love' with you wouldn't necessarily have to mean they cared about you. I don't think someone could truly care about you unless they got to know you, and you don't seem like the kind of person that lets many people get to know them. A girl could convince herself she was in love with you just because you're attractive, but not even know what kind of person you are.**_

Snape was taken aback at how mature she sounded, at how she could possibly know all this, but mostly at how she had called him 'attractive'.

_I'm not attractive._

Oops. She hadn't meant to tell him her real opinion of how he looked, but it couldn't get any more awkward from here.

_**To be honest, Professor, you are. I suppose everyone has different tastes, but I surely can't be the first person to think so.**_

He could have turned this into a battle of him insulting himself and allowing Vesperra to return each one with a compliment until he was sure of exactly why and how she found him attractive, but he decided not to. If anyone else had said this to him, he would have expected them to either be mocking him or trying to flatter him, but something in her voice told him that she was serious. Someone was actually attracted to him; he wasn't going to push it.

_You might be right, but no one's been daring enough to admit it yet besides you. As for our original conversation about you caring about me and me being sorry, please do forgive me._

_**How could I not? I'm not even mad anymore.**_

_That's good, then. I have to tell you, Potter saw me and Filch when I was bandaging my leg up._

_**What? Potter, of all people, had to see you? What did you do? Please tell me he has a week's detention.**_

_I panicked, and yelled at him. But I was so furious for him seeing me in the first place that I didn't have time to give him detention. He wanted a book back that I confiscated earlier, but I gave the book to Filch and Potter will never see it again. I don't think I can give him detention tomorrow for past pretenses and just happening upon us, as I can't prove anything, but he's going to be miserable for the rest of the year. Well, more miserable than he would have been._

_**Speaking of tomorrow, will you be at the Quidditch game? I'm hoping to see Potter fail horribly and fall off his broom. **_

At the mention of Quidditch in this light, he wasn't angry to hear about it.

_Yes, I will. All teachers are required to attend Quidditch games anyway. And being Head of House, it would be unacceptable to miss a Slytherin game. I really don't like the sport, but I value my House. We haven't lost in fourteen years. But seeing Potter being humiliated in front of the entire school would be exhilarating. I'll see you tomorrow morning, then… I could use some sleep._

_**Me too. Good night.**_

* * *

**I always like to end on a sweet note. Well, not really. Just this time. But anyway... notice all the double meanings behind all the stuff that happened in the first book? Yeah, you never would have expected that. Here's what to expect for the next chapter: Quidditch Game, Snape confronts Quirrel. **

**Obviously, just asking you to rate and review hasn't been working. Imperio!**


	9. Book 1: Chapter 9

**I seriously can't believe this only took me a week... I'm being alot more productive! I get in about three to five pages per night now! I won't give any spoilers, but I know you're going to love this chapter. A lot of emotional stuff, and something _shocking_ about Vesperra...**

* * *

Vesperra awoke suddenly, full of energy at the single conscious thought that she could very well see Potter die today. She was sure that if she ever even dreamt, she'd have had sweet dreams of him plummeting head-first straight to his death on the Quidditch field.

During breakfast, Malfoy was so busy telling everyone how he knew Potter was going to be terrible and probably fall off his broom that he, as well as the other Slytherins, hardly knew she was there. They finally left her alone for once, and she could eat her sausage in peace.

But of course, they noticed her eventually.

"What about _you_, Grease-perra?" said Pansy, and Vesperra's knuckles went white at the sound of that horrid nickname. "What do you think about the game?" Her smile became wicked, and it was already apparent that they hardly cared about her opinion at all. But she spoke anyway, feeling that the time was right.

"I'm hoping that our Beaters mistake Potter for a Bludger and that the little prat chokes on the Snitch and humiliates himself." she said casually, not even looking up from her plate.

She expected them to laugh, or maybe say something like, "Well, at least that's one thing we can agree on!", and that they might leave her alone for the rest of the day. Like always, she realized it was stupid to assume that, no matter what she ever did.

They did giggle a bit, but suddenly seemed ashamed at laughing something that Vesperra had said as if it were a group joke rather than making fun of her. Crabbe and Goyle ceased their laughing sycophantically at a stern look from Malfoy, who too had to suppress a smile that was still attempting to creep up his lips. No one seemed to know what to do to make this backfire on her, but soon, Malfoy allowed himself to smile again, this time evilly, and inhaled.

"You only hate Potter because Snape does." All suppressed laughter from Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Theodore, Tracey, and Daphne was let out in relief. "And you'll do whatever Snape−"

"_Professor_ Snape." It slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Oho!" yelled out Draco amongst the _Oooohs_ and _Ohhhhs_ at the table, his face now stretched in a wide smile utterly filled with glee. "What, you don't call him '_Severus?_'"

For a second, she gave an involuntary twitch that would have led to her leaving the table to contain her fury, but she stopped herself. _No, I'm not going to run away… I'm not a coward… I'll just sit here and let them say whatever they want_−

"That's Professor Snape to you."

* * *

Snape laid on his stomach on his bed, holding his aching head in one hand and a quill in the other. He stared down at a foot and a half of parchment, reading every neatly scrawled word. The essay was written by a Hufflepuff, so he didn't expect much. But it was actually quite good… except that they misspelled 'Hippogriff.' He gave it a D.

As he set the marked essay on top of the other pile and moved his eyes to the next one, it suddenly registered that Vesperra was in the room, leaning against the opposite wall. She hadn't been there a second before. For some reason, it felt completely normal and he didn't think to question it at all.

Then he looked up at her, and she walked towards him. Simultaneously, he set his stack of ungraded essays aside and sat on the edge of the bed. Once she faced him, she put her hands on each of his knees, leaned forward, and snarled her lip, but not in a mad way.

"You… are so… _sexy_." Vesperra said with a hint of a seductive tone. Snape didn't even know an eleven-year old would know how to speak seductively. Or know what 'sexy' was.

The girl just kept on smiling at him, her eyes becoming hazed. Funny, so were his. Her hands started to creep further up his thighs, but that's where he freaked out.

"No− no!" he ordered in the most authoritive tone he could manage while trying to not sound mean. As he said so, he forced Vesperra's hands off of him and for her to step a few feet back, but only had to push lightly. Her dazed smile did not falter, and her eyes remained the same. "No, I'm not!"

Falling forward and supporting herself on his knees again, she smiled wider and said, "Yes, you are…" Leaning in further, she arched her neck…

"AH− Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape's torso shot upward and he threw his blanket off. The moment he realized everything prior must have been a dream, he didn't hesitate to stand up and lean against the wall instead, just to make sure he didn't slip back into unconsciousness.

_Dammit. Dammit. Dammit._ With each mental curse, he tapped his head lightly on the stone wall. Heart still racing from the events that never happened, he slapped himself− first mentally, then physically. _Lily… I'm sorry… Damn you, brain… Lily, I didn't mean to… I didn't even want to!_

_No. Quit it. I don't need to feel guilty… it was just a dream! Oh, look at me, Master of Occlumency, saying 'it's just a dream!' All dreams come from something… No, it was just from what she said last night, and my brain decided to twist it around. But could that really be what I think she feels…?_

Trying to avoid finishing that thought, he headed to the shower. Okay, that was a stupid idea. Warm water always calmed him down… but it also provided better and clearer thinking conditions. So he hummed to himself until he was out of the shower and dried. Slowly, he pulled on underpants and started buttoning up his shirt. His head drifted up to face his reflection in the mirror, and he scowled.

"I… am not… _sexy_. At all." he reassured himself. Snape felt around the edges of his face, then ran a finger down his nose from bridge to tip. Running his fingers through his hair, he accumulated enough grease that he had to wipe it off on his shirt. _I have a long face, a hooked nose, greasy hair, sallow skin, and my face is in a permanent scowl… But that was just a dream anyway. All she said last night was that I was 'attractive'. But still… how could she possibly think that? I'm an ugly git. I've been one my whole life, and Potter and his friends never failed to tell me so…_

He tried to shrug it off. Just because Vesperra thought he was attractive didn't mean that she was attracted _to_ him. Besides, even if she was, it couldn't be more than a harmless crush. They were, after all, friends. She was his only friend, and he was her only friend… So, best friends.

_Vesperra would never do that… Even if she thought about it, which I'm sure she hasn't… she still wouldn't do something stupid like that. I'm her Professor. She's my student. Oh, for Merlin's sake, okay, we're friends. But I'm twenty years older than her, and she's not so immature as to have an unattainable crush like that. Although, I doubt she'll ever like anyone else in any sort of way. She hates everyone but me. And she's about twenty years ahead of herself mentally…_

No. He refused to believe Vesperra could ever like him _that_ much, or even act on it if she did. Mostly, he was just afraid that someday she'd love him, and he wouldn't be able to love her back, because of Lily. Love came for him once at a time, or at least that kind of love did. And this time around wasn't over yet.

_It doesn't matter anyway. I'm worrying too much over something stupid. She didn't even call me attractive directly… She just mentioned it in passing. _

But that hardly calmed him down. Luckily, he was the Potions Master, and happened to have a Calming Drought in a drawer barely ten feet away from him. How convenient. He summoned it, gulped down a mouthful, pulled on the rest of his robes, and tried to look as menacing as possible as he walked down to the Great Hall.

It was easy to forget all of his previous worries once the drought had taken effect… He simply assumed what he wanted to and thought nothing more of it. Although, even in his calm state, he couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that made him attractive to Vesperra. _Does she like my hair…? Well, she might not mind how greasy it is, seeing as hers is just as greasy… Or my nose, maybe? I daresay most would find it ugly, but she did say she liked it… Just like Lily did…_

Soon, he found himself chewing a hunk of sausage absentmindedly and fixing his hair so as to subconsciously make sure that every strand was in place.

_What the hell am I doing?_ He moved his hands away from his hair immediately. With a jolt that even the Calming Drought couldn't suppress, he realized that he was doing what James Potter did that aggravated him for so many years… And he realized that he only did it because he was suddenly caring about his appearance, which he had never done in his entire life. No one in his entire life, except Vesperra, would even _think_ about him being attractive, and so he readily accepted it early on that he was ugly.

He _was_ ugly, and that was that. Looking up, he checked to see if anyone was looking at him strangely, and no one was. Then again, he thought, even if they had noticed what he did, they probably wouldn't think anything of it.

Okay, he had to think of something else, or think of nothing. Snape couldn't think of any topic that wouldn't automatically revert back to the first one, so he chose nothing. Eyes glazing over the Great Hall, they inevitably landed on the group of first year Slytherins, where everyone seemed to be ignoring Vesperra for once.

This lightened up his mood a bit, and he was glad she wasn't going through a morning of torment, like usual. Somewhere in the motley of voices from all over the Great Hall, he heard a booming voice that was undoubtedly Draco Malfoy's saying 'Quidditch.'

Everyone at his table seemed to be laughing, and that word sparked a chain of simple thoughts; _Quidditch. Potter. Quirrel. Today._ Oh, how could he have forgotten? With his mind on Vesperra all morning, he hadn't given a single thought to Potter and that day's Quidditch game or his plans for Quirrel. Come to think of it, he didn't even have any.

Setting his fork down, Snape decided that he wasn't hungry anymore, and needed to go prepare for the game, and possibly get some sleuthing done, if there was any to be done. Quirrel wasn't at breakfast, which had only just registered to him, and that must mean the man was already planning something else. And this time, possibly worse than the troll.

He set off in between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, and vaguely wondered why those two Houses had to be placed next to each other. While heading there, he couldn't help but overhear the conversation at one end of the Slytherin Table.

"−You'll do whatever Snape−" Malfoy was saying, before being corrected by Vesperra.

"_Professor_ Snape."

His whole body became lax at out much she respected him and was willing to defend him, but stiffened a moment later when the rest of the first year Slytherins leaned back in fake shock, covering their mouths as if scandalized and trying not to laugh. Malfoy, as usual, took initiative and was the first to rebound upon her.

"Oho! …What, you don't call him _Severus_?" Instead of laughing again, the others seemed to smile horribly and stare at her, waiting for her to answer. That's when he decided to butt in.

"That's Professor Snape to you."

* * *

Hope re-entered Vesperra and there was so much, she might have choked on it. Containing her excitement, she only turned ninety degrees, and looked at Professor Snape from a side-glance. Everyone else immediately wiped the smirks off their faces, but for the most part, didn't seem too scared. They were merely impassive, since Professor Snape was liked by nearly all the Slytherins.

Malfoy hardly seemed afraid, either. He put on a fake innocent face, and looked up at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Snape curled his lip slightly as he glared down at the boy. He regarded the apology with a grimace, and turned to walk away once more. Before doing so, he glanced at Vesperra as a 'Thank you' and she understood. She responded with her own mental 'Thank you, too' and returned to her breakfast.

* * *

Once Professor Snape was well outside of the Great Hall, the Slytherins all faced her again, as if nothing had just happened.

"Well, do you? Pansy asked unpleasantly.

For a moment, Vesperra felt a strange churning in her stomach. She knew she had never called him by his first name, but now was almost upset that she didn't.

"No, I don't." she shot back. "I _respect_ him, unlike any of you."

There were a few moments of silence, and…

"_Respect,_ my arse!" laughed Millicent, who usually hardly spoke. "You _fancy _him, everybody knows it!"

"Yeah," Tracey joined in, "I bet you think he's _so_ handsome…"

Then Daphne turned to her friend and asked with disgust, "_You_ don't think he's handsome… do you?"

"Ew, Snape? No! Ugh, he's so old−"

"He's only thirty-one." Vesperra corrected her, knowing full well it would only give them more reason to torment her. But she felt annoyed that they knew so little about him and just made assumptions. It then occurred to her that, stressed as he was, Professor Snape appeared a lot older than he was. He was angry almost all the time, not without good reason, and had already developed permanent worry lines. Though she admitted to herself that even she would have thought he was older if he hadn't old her his age, part of her just wanted to justify herself, even if she hadn't actually admitted to being close to him at all.

Instead of laughing again at how obvious she had made herself, they all seemed a bit confused. Malfoy leaned in and said slowly, "How do you know how old Snape is?"

Oh Merlin, she was _so stupid_ sometimes… She was supposed to be brilliant− Professor Snape called her brilliant, Dumbledore called her brilliant, and there was no doubt the rest of her teachers (even Quirrel) thought she was brilliant. Well, scarily brilliant. Right then, however, she felt quite the opposite.

Not only had she told them all something Professor Snape had told her personally, but she also felt like an idiot for not having any sort of plan to get her out of it. Absolutely nothing came to mind, and Vesperra had no idea what to say or do. Pretending she hadn't heard him, which was the only thing that came to mind, she simply ate and tried not to appear scared. Because she was… She was scared at how many questions they would ask, how much they would assume, and how much of it would actually be true… which would probably be a lot.

Her arms shook as she stabbed a sausage and lifted it to her mouth, and she tried to block out all noise, just so she wouldn't hear whatever they'd say and get even more nervous.

Now, only their taunting laughter was audible to her, and she couldn't hear what Malfoy said prior to it. It was better not knowing what they were accusing her of, but not by much. Vesperra's heart pounded so fast and her face felt so hot and she shook so badly that frustrated tears formed in the bottom of her eyelids, and she didn't have the strength to eat anymore.

She wasn't sure if they were in the middle of asking another question or if they were waiting for an answer… All she knew was that she swiftly removed herself from the table and skulked away, and they laughed harder as she did.

The main reason she felt so horrible was that she had the indescribable urge to curse someone, preferably everyone, but knew that she couldn't. One, because Professor Snape wanted her to control herself and two, there were too many witnesses. Not paying any attention to anything except what was directly in front of her, she walked as briskly as possible to the Slytherin Common Room and into her dorm.

It must have been waiting for her, because it just felt like the place to be. In the small room with dark green, chipping paint on the walls and surprisingly soft beds for the atmosphere it gave, she was willing to cease hiding behind her impenetrable mask and break down.

At first, she only laid down on the bed, facing up, with as calm a face as possible. Suddenly, her face contorted with pain, and she rubbed her burning temples as she rolled over onto her side and let her pillow soak up her tears and, metaphorically, her pain. Slowly, her heartbeat returned to its normal pace, and the ringing in her ears stopped.

All the pain she had felt in the past few weeks, in addition to that morning's event, was let out in that crying session. Vesperra always had to bottle up her anger and humiliation, and it was healthy to just release it all once in a while, just so she didn't overflow.

_Professor Snape is just my friend… I can't have a bloody friend? I should have known there'd be consequences to making friends with a teacher…_ But as much as she'd love someone to blame this on, she couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. They'd be teasing her for ever having a friend, adult or not.

But now that she thought about it rationally, they didn't even know they were friends. They just knew that Vesperra liked him more than anyone else, and that the vice versa was quite possible. And they thought she had a crush on him…_ But they're wrong. Even if I did like him like that, it wouldn't just be because of how handsome he is… It would be because of how much he understands me where no one else does… He's just my friend… my best friend. My only friend. And no one− not even Malfoy− is going to take that away from me… It's all I have._

Realizing that they probably hadn't assumed her close relationship with Professor Snape after all, Vesperra figured they must have thought that she discovered his age by asking another Professor, or possibly by asking him. But to them, was it worse for her to be close to him or obsessed with him?

Feeling that she had gone through too much stress that day though it was only about nine o'clock, she decided to stop thinking about them and just cross that bridge when she came to it. Instead, she fed herself other thoughts to get her brain going on something.

_I have to quit letting them get to me… Now− Oh! The Quidditch game's today, I completely forgot… Should I even go after everything that happened? _Sure that she wouldn't have to face anything once out in the stands, where everyone else was riled up about Quidditch, she ended up choosing to go still. _Besides… Professor Snape is expecting me to be there, and I'll get to see Potter make a fool of himself._

That cheered her up immediately.

* * *

On his way down to his chambers, Snape came across the man he was both repulsed and eager to see.

"Quirrel, you're a bit late for breakfast, aren't you?" he greeted silkily.

"Oh…" he replied nervously, fidgeting and appearing anxious to leave his presence. "Am I? I- I've been b-busy this m-morning…"

Snape raised an eyebrow as if to ask, 'With what?'

"G-getting ready f-f-for the Q-quidditch game…"

"Hmm…" Snape regarded the man's guilty face and horrified eyes with grave suspicion, as he knew whatever he had been 'busy with' was not innocent. Nevertheless, he was clearly headed to the Great Hall now, so he allowed him to pass, and continued down to the dungeons.

Once in his room, he opened his wardrobe dramatically and pulled out the one set of robes that wasn't black. He wore green robes every Quidditch game that involved the Slytherin team, and he had been doing that for the past ten years. Even now, after everything that had happened because of him expressing the ideals of his House, he still enjoyed showing some Slytherin Pride.

After redressing, Snape read a few chapters of his novel, and when it was about 10:30, he set out to the Quidditch field.

The whole of the castle was surrounded by a thin veil of mist, and combined with direct sunlight, everything seemed to be sparkling. Though the sun's rays were shielded by nothing, it was still extremely cold outside. It was a good thing he wore a scarf this time.

Making his way up the section halfway in between the goal posts, he found his seat near many well-known faces. There was Quirrel, for one, sitting strangely upright and waiting impatiently for the game to start. Then, there were a couple blokes from the Ministry whom he didn't know but guessed were fathers of a few of the Slytherin team's members, Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, and none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Lucius." he noted as he sat down next to him. The man was wearing his best black robes and his usual furry black hat. His gloved hands were intertwined by the fingers, holding the snake-head of his staff and allowing his chin to rest more comfortably upon it. He wore the same smug smile that he always did, and though Snape had stayed friends with him for so long, he had grown to hate it.

"Ah, Severus, you know how much I love Quidditch… I never miss a game."

Both of them having been former Death Eaters, he assumed Lucius, too, wanted to see Potter's downfall. They talked no more, because the two teams were now walking out onto the field, and the whole stadium became silent that he could even hear Madam Hooch all the way on the ground.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you."

_Like that's going to happen…_ Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain, had committed more fouls in the past few years than all the other teams put together. Besides, what else can you expect from the Slytherin team…? _We don't care how we win, we just want to win. If we need to cheat, we will._

Moving his eyes back up toward the stands, he saw a group of Gryffindors on the side opposite him holding up a banner depicting the words, 'Potter for President'. His muscles tensed with annoyance, but he tried to ignore it. _Sure, Potter's getting all this undeserved attention, but they'll all be laughing when Flint knocks him off his broom._

This thought was hardly comforting, though, seeing as he knew from the rumors that he was supposed to be an excellent flyer, and that he really didn't want Flint to fatally injure him. Even though his main objective was to protect him from the likes of Voldemort, which not even Dumbledore knew exactly when would come into place, any danger to Potter's life was a crisis for him. And if something like _that_ happened, which he wouldn't be able to control, then he'd have nothing left to live for. Except Vesperra.

The players then mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the game began. Lee Jordan was commentating, and getting sidetracked with how attractive he thought Angelina Johnson was. Snape always hated him, mostly because he was usually an accomplice to the Weasley twins' schemes, which reminded him too much of James, Sirius, and Lupin in their younger days.

While the Gryffindor chasers had the Quaffle, he shifted his focus from the field to the crowd, and tried to find out whether he could see Vesperra from there. _She'll be the one not screaming or making any facial expressions…_

It wasn't too difficult, but at last, he could see her wedged in between two large boys in a section near the Slytherin end. She was bundled in a thick coat over her robes and a Slytherin scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck. Her hands were stuffed in her coat pockets, and the wind whipped her hair so it flew in all directions over her face. Vesperra didn't seem to care, however, because while the students around her were adjusting their binoculars to keep track of who had the Quaffle, her head was tilted back and her gaze was intent upon the Gryffindor seeker.

He looked up at Potter at once, as he realized he should be keeping an eye on him as well. Suddenly, a deafening cheer roared across the stands.

"GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" shouted Lee Jordan, and all the Slytherins howled boos and groaned. Snape expressed his own displeasure with a grunt, and returned to staring at Potter, who was doing loops in the air. _What a little show-off…_

His eyes followed the boy as he glided over the game, as he was sure Vesperra's were doing as well. A Bludger shot his way, and Snape's heart lurched, whether in fear or excitement he did not know, but then he dodged it. He imagined Vesperra must have been very disappointed…

Finally, Slytherin was in possession, but seconds after Adrian Pucey caught the Quaffle, he dropped it, for Lee Jordan had announced the appearance of the Snitch, which had zoomed right past Pucey's ear. _What a dunderhead move!_ he thought angrily, now that Potter had seen it as well and there was a real chance Gryffindor might win.

Soon, Potter and the Slytherin Seeker, Terrence Higgs, were neck and neck, hurtling towards the Snitch. The rest of the players hung in midair to watch, instead of attempting more goals in the meantime. Potter was getting faster, and Snape was almost sure he'd make the win for Gryffindor−

Then Marcus Flint flew right in front of him to block him, and Potter nearly fell off him broom, which was now spinning off course. Madam Hooch reprimanded Flint and gave a penalty shot to Gryffindor, which Alicia Spinnet made easily. Now, Lee Jordan was making biased commentary, and he decided to try and find Vesperra again.

Once he did, he saw her eyes widen slightly, still looking up, and her scowl twitch into an unpleasant smile. It scared him to see her smile like that. Snape looked up to see what she was enjoying enough to actually smile at, and saw that Potter's broom was completely out of control. It lurched violently and zigzagged over the field so that he seemed to be holding on desperately for his life.

Lee Jordan finally noticed, and now the entire school was staring up at Potter being forced up higher and higher above the stadium. The Slytherins cheered− and though Vesperra was silent as usual, she seemed to be fighting the urge to cheer along with them− and the rest of the school gasped. People were pointing at him all over the stands now, because he started to roll over in the air, and suddenly, his broom gave a wild jerk and he only held on by one hand now.

Snape panicked. His heart was beating irregularly, his stomach felt horribly light, and his mind was racing. He didn't know who was doing it for sure, but he had a pretty good idea. Nothing could manage to tamper with a broom except really Dark Magic, so it must have been a powerful jinx. Without hesitating a second longer, not even to look around and try to see who was casting it, he focused directly on Potter and began muttering all the countercurses he knew.

None of them seemed to have any effect, and he panicked worse and worse. Snape had no idea what curse was being used on Potter, so how was he to know what countercurse to use. Nevertheless, he continued to keep from blinking and muttered nonstop under his breath.

It still wasn't doing anything, and Snape was scared shitless. He could have cried from a combination of frustration, and having kept his eyes open for so long without blinking. Potter's broom was vibrating harder than ever and bucking him up ever higher. His teammates circled below him, so that made Snape slightly less worried that he would fall to his death, but he didn't have time to think so. He was still desperately muttering countercurses.

About a minute later, it was a miracle that Potter was still able to hold on. Snape, however, didn't think he could go on much longer. Behind him, Quirrel was knocked headfirst into the row in front, but he ignored it. Things were serious now. But a few seconds later, his leg felt strangely warm…

"AH!" There was a sudden, searing pain as a blood vessel in his leg popped from immense heat. Daring to break his gaze at Potter, he glanced down and noticed that the hem of his robes was on fire. Those around him noticed as well, and Lucius began to try and stomp it out for him, but as quickly and unexpectedly as it came, it disappeared, leaving him and everyone else baffled.

Snape was panic-stricken again, worried that Potter had been thrown off his broom during his absence of focus. But when he hastened to move his gaze back up at him, he had managed to clamber back onto his broom. Relieved that his countercurses had finally worked, he tried to redirect his heartbeat and breathing to its regular pattern, and flipped his hair out of his face as he watched Potter dive down.

Instead of swooping back up at the last second like Snape expected the little Quidditch prodigy to do, he landed on the field on all fours, and looked like he was about to be sick. His previous panic didn't resurface, though. Potter could be sick out of his mind for all he cared− as long as he wasn't dead.

Rather than vomiting, he coughed up the Snitch, and it was official. Gryffindor won, and Slytherin had lost miserably; 170-60. The boy held up the Snitch proudly in a very James-like manner, and Lee happily shouted Slytherin's defeat, and the crowd was utterly confused, but excited nevertheless. Except for the Slytherins, that is. And Snape couldn't even imagine how angry Vesperra must have been…

He wasn't even sure how Slytherin managed to score sixty points at all, but later found out that Marcus Flint had scored five goals while Potter's broom was trying to buck him off without anyone noticing. Still recovering from his rapid heartbeat and headache, he looked back at where Vesperra was, but couldn't see her. _She must have already stormed off in fury._

Not surprised and feeling like doing the same, he left the quickly emptying field.

* * *

By the time Vesperra reached the Quidditch field, more than half the school was already in the stands. Careful not to end up anywhere near Malfoy or the other Slytherin first years, she found a spot in between two boys that were probably in their sixth year, by the look of their progressing goatees. They didn't mind her presence, so she didn't mind them.

Scanning the stands on the other side, she could see Professor Snape with his usual perturbed expression. She almost didn't recognize him, though, because he wasn't wearing black. Instead, he had dark green robes and coat, which threw her off completely. He had never worn anything but black− at least not in front of her. It was strange, but also thrilling, in a way, to see him somewhat out of character.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting next to and talking to Professor Snape, which made Vesperra a bit nervous. She had only seen him once before, in the _Daily Prophet_, but even if she hadn't, she still would have known who he was. He looked exactly like his son; same platinum blonde hair, same pale gray eyes and pointed chin, and the same smug look about him that she hated so much.

Quirrel was also over there, but a bench behind and a few columns over from Professor Snape. Vesperra had the feeling that her favorite teacher and best friend was sitting near him for a reason− to keep an eye on him.

Not too much later, the players entered the field and were in the air, but she only had eyes for Harry Potter. He flew high up above the game to look for the Snitch, and Vesperra's eyes were fixed on him, silently willing him to fall off. But he didn't.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets to keep the bitter cold from freezing them altogether, she remained staring fixedly at Potter. It had been several minutes before he did anything but glide around, and that was when Gryffindor had scored and Potter started doing loops.

All of the Slytherins started booing and groaning, but she only scowled at him, angry that Gryffindor was getting ahead, that he was so happy about it, and that he hadn't been hurt at all yet. But suddenly, one of the Slytherin Beaters hit a Bludger his way, and her heart stopped in excitement.

But then he dodged it, and her spirits plummeted again. For the next five or so minutes, nothing worthwhile happened, and her eyes continued to follow Potter around the stadium. She wasn't even paying attention to Lee Jordan's commentating for the most part, but when she heard him say the word "Snitch"−

Potter had dived for the tiny golden ball, and Terrence Higgs brought up his rear. Terrence looked as if he could have collided with him, and Vesperra desperately hoped he would. A moment later, her prayers were answered… but not exactly.

He was blocked by Marcus Flint, and crashed into his stocky build. Wishing that he would be knocked off, she exhaled in frustration when he regained his balance. Even though Gryffindor got a penalty shot, she was glad Potter had gotten somewhat hurt. As he returned to gliding high above the rest of the players, something happened that made the corner of her mouth twitch.

His broom gave a sudden lurch, which wouldn't have seemed like much if it didn't continue and become faster. It seemed as though it was trying to buck Potter off, and the lurches only became more violent. Her eyes widened in excitement and a wild, evil smile creeped onto her lips. She didn't care if anyone saw her smiling, but she knew no one would, anyway… Everyone around her was pointing and cheering, clearly just as excited for Potter to be in moral peril as she was.

Now, her eyes were following his zigzagged path hungrily as he was struggling to keep both hands on it− And one of his hands slipped, so he was now dangling by one hand, which was bound to lose its grip as well.

All sorts of things were going on in Vesperra's mind. She was anxious for Slytherin to win and the Gryffindor team to be humiliated, but another horrible part of her just wanted Potter to fall off his broom, knowing he would most likely die from a fall like that. And though the only thing he had ever done to her was make her feel jealous of his attention despite having the same background as her, she didn't feel sorry for him in the least bit, nor did she feel guilty for wishing for his death.

For a second, she thought that her irrational hatred was causing Potter's broom to jerk around like that, like it made the flask explode all those weeks ago. Then she figured she couldn't have done, because it wasn't like when she couldn't control herself because Seamus was saying all those things about Professor Snape. In fact, it was more of a House rivalry-type hate than anything. That, and him being a pompous kid who thought he could get away with anything just because he was 'The Boy Who Lived', and wouldn't even have to bother paying attention in any of his classes.

Her hatred for him felt a little more understandable now.

After a few minutes, Vesperra couldn't believe Potter was still able to hold on. Urging him to fall off in her head, she realized her face must have looked twisted and strained in focus. But she didn't care. Almost suddenly, the broom's lurching came to a stop, and he grabbed hold of one end of it with his other hand and hoisted himself back up, to the cheers of everyone but the Slytherins.

Disappointed as she was, she didn't give up hope completely. Marcus Flint had been able to score fifty points while all the members of the Gryffindor team were busy flying under Potter, ready to catch him if he fell.

All in a few seconds, Potter dived at extreme speed, fell off once a few feet above the ground, coughed up the Snitch he had nearly choked on, and the crowd was in an uproar.

A lot of the Slytherins around her were yelling over everyone else that it wasn't fair, because he didn't catch the Snitch, he nearly swallowed it. But Madam Hooch clarified that it was completely within the rules, and students continued to argue. Completely dumbfounded as to how abruptly the game ended, Vesperra just stood in the tumultuous crowd, hands still in her pockets and hair blowing over her face to frame it ominously, with a cold, expressionless face.

At last, she quickened her pace and returned to the castle with everyone else, passing the rowdy group of Gryffindors on her way, who were all shouting to each other their own play-by-play analysis of the game and carrying Harry Potter above their heads. Snarling her lip, she hurried even faster back to her dorm.

When she arrived there, she began breathing in and out, keeping it controlled, to calm herself down. It worked somewhat, but she couldn't force herself to feel any less disappointed. With nothing else in mind, she scrambled over to her bag, and took out her journal.

* * *

Quirrel had completely disappeared before Snape even made it back to the castle with the other teachers. Lucius Malfoy bade him farewell as he was off to Hogsmeade so he could Apparate back to his Manor, and so he returned to his chambers for the second time that day.

Staggering to his bed once inside his room, he held his head in both hands in order to soothe his headache. _The whole thing… The whole plan, all these years… everything, almost worthless after one bloody Quidditch game._

He had no idea what Quirrel could be doing now, but the blood flow to his brain was low, and he felt light-headed, so he could only hope that Potter wasn't wandering the halls and for his head to stop hurting.

_Time to break out the one headache medicine that's always foolproof…_ With his eyes half-closed, he found his trunk and unlocked it. Sure, drinking before five was usually frowned upon, but he wasn't going to get drunk… And besides, he could use a little relief.

Right as he was about to uncork a bottle, his pillow fell off his bed. His attention drawn to the pillow now laying on the ground, he noticed something glow red through the pillowcase, and he made a leap for it.

* * *

_**Professor, could I come and visit for a while? If you don't have important work to do, that is.**_

As soon as he heard the message, he was extremely grateful. She had written at the perfect time, and stopped him from drinking. Sure, he told himself he wouldn't get himself drunk, but he probably still would have.

_Sure, I'm not busy today._

Vesperra relaxed her face muscles, hurriedly closed the latch on her journal and stuffed it back in her bag, pushed the bag under her bed, and was halfway down the hall to the Common Room before the door had even swung shut.

* * *

_A whole day just to spend time with Vesperra? Just what I need…_

The pain in Snape's head had left him, and he was calmer than he would expect after everything that happened earlier that morning. Locking his trunk back up and leaving out one bottle of Firewhiskey just in case, he cast a couple cleaning spells to straighten up any loose papers and fold yesterday's robes that he hadn't thrown in a hamper yet.

Hardly three minutes later, there was a knock at his door.

* * *

Vesperra's eyes brightened to twice their usual glow when she saw him. He opened the door casually and smiled with his own eyes as a greeting. As she walked in, Snape closed the door behind her and considered for a moment before saying, "You know what, let's hang out in my office. There's a couch in there."

There was no need for him to explain; Vesperra understood that he'd prefer for them both not to be sitting on a bed… _his_ bed. Smirking at the sound of Professor Snape using the phrase "hang out", she followed him into his office, which was conveniently connected to his room.

She let herself fall onto his black, leather couch and closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of his office. It smelt like him.

"Tea?" he thought to ask right before he meant to sit down with her.

Her eyes lit up even more at him offering her tea, and she spoke for the first time.

"Yes, thank you." Nodding her head, she watched Professor walk over to his fireplace, shoot fire into the grate with his wand, and set a kettle in to heat.

"I see you're still wearing _green_." Vesperra observed with almost a laugh in her voice.

"I'm supporting Slytherin…" he explained with his back still to her as he added the tea leaves.

"Hmm… well I prefer you in all black."

"Me too." said Snape, smiling slightly. "Hold on for a moment." And he abandoned the tea to get to his room, shut the door, and emerged seconds later in his usual robes.

"What took you so long?"

"I only used a Switching Spell on my robes."

"Why couldn't you have done that in here?"  
"I would have, but when I do that I feel like there's a brief second where I'm naked… And I don't think you want to see that." he added with a smirk.

She didn't argue that point, but she didn't agree with it either. "But what about that night I spent here?"

He hesitated. "That was the first time in a while that I had done that… I prefer to dress myself manually."

Vesperra looked down at her torso with a hint of panic. "Well now I'm paranoid that you saw me naked." she admitted, only half-joking.

Snape assured her that he didn't, and went over to the now steaming kettle. Pouring their cups of tea, he glanced over at the bottle of firewhiskey on the nearby table, and grabbed it. _It couldn't hurt…_ He poured a bit of it into his cup of tea, and made sure to remember which one was his, so he wouldn't accidentally give it to Vesperra.

She noticed Professor Snape pouring something extra into his tea, and had a vague idea of what it was, so she smiled when he handed her the tea and sat down on the other end of the short couch.

After taking a sip of her tea, she raised one eyebrow at him and asked slowly, "Did you just… put Firewhiskey in yours? Taking another sip, she smiled into her cup.

He just stared for a moment, and wiped some tea from his mouth. _Guess I wasn't as inconspicuous as I thought…_

"Yes…" he replied while pulling the teacup back up to his mouth. It tasted mostly just like tea, except with the added spiciness of firewhiskey. And it was smoking slightly.

"…Does alcohol really calm your nerves as much as people say it does?"

Holding his cup on his lap, he thought of what he would tell her… "As much as your parents would tell you otherwise, yes, it does." It was true. What remained of his headache after Vesperra had arrived was already gone, and he was feeling better every second.

"My mum wouldn't care." she said casually, as if it were nothing that her parents didn't care about her.

Snape's heart plummeted. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief that she could be so desensitized to people not caring about her. Looking down, he saw that she held her tea with one hand and had the other laying freely on the middle cushion, so he covered it with his own.

Vesperra turned her head calmly to see him grasping her hand, but she had jumped on the inside. She imagined his ungloved hands would feel cold if she weren't so cold herself.

"Neither would mine," he told her as her initial shock wore off. "It's a good thing she didn't keep any in the house while I was growing up."

At this, she smirked at him. Professor Snape looked down into his cup, over to the table with the bottle of opened firewhiskey still on it, and back at Vesperra, who seemed so aged with stress all of a sudden that he couldn't quite believe she was eleven.

"Do you want some?" he asked seriously, gesturing to the bottle. Vesperra locked gazes with him, considered his offer, and nodded. With a wave of his wand, the firewhiskey flew to him, and he bent forward to pour some into Vesperra's cup, but he noticed it was half-empty. He summoned the tea kettle from across the room, not wanting to have to let go of Vesperra's hand, and filled her cup, for the most part.

"The firewhiskey has to be diluted…" he explained at her somewhat confused expression. "And we can't have _you_ drunk. Who knows what you'd do…" his voice trailed off as he added some firewhiskey to her tea. Expecting her to hate the taste, he was surprised to see her grin as she sipped her firewhiskey tea.

"Hogwarts… where teachers give their students alcohol." she mused after her first sip of it.

"You're more than just my student." he said without thinking. It was strange, because he usually thought things through multiple times before saying it out loud. And he wasn't embarrassed at all to say it. "I'm not letting any of my other students come and visit me for the day and drink _tea_ in my room, am I? If I offered tea to anyone else, they'd automatically think I was an impostor and interrogate me as to where the real Severus Snape was… You're my friend." Softening his eyes, he squeezed her hand a little.

_You wouldn't hold their hand, either…_ All she could do was smile− not a smirk, not a smug grin, and not just through he eyes, either. She smiled directly at him, and for a while, because for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to say, "You're my friend, too." It might have been because it just sounded cheesy, but really, she didn't think she could say it without crying.

Snape smiled back at her, and an eternity (that's what it felt like) later, sipped his tea and leaned back.

"If you start to feel light-headed, tell me. It shouldn't be, but I'm not completely sure that it won't be too strong for you." he advised. Just in case, she set her cup aside.

"So…" she started, preparing to say what was on her mind. "Too bad Potter didn't fall off his broom, huh?"

He knew it would come to this eventually. As much as he'd rather talk about something else, she had brought it up, and he knew he needed to get it out of his system… But he couldn't tell her about how he was actually protecting Potter… Then he'd have to start from the beginning. And he couldn't do that just yet. Suddenly, a horrible, unrealistic, yet pining question came to mind…

"Vesperra, you didn't…?"

She was confused at first, but then knew he must have meant if she had been the one jinxing the broom. Then she felt somewhat guilty.

"No, of course I didn't… I don't hate Potter enough to kill him." She was reassuring herself as much as she was Professor Snape. "And I wouldn't know how to do that, anyway. Do you have any idea who was doing it, though?

Okay. That was enough to believe her, and he was able to breathe again.

"I can't be sure, but I think it was Quirrel."

"Why would Quirrel want to kill Potter?"

Once again, he felt bad that he couldn't tell Vesperra everything, but then again, he wasn't even sure of the answer to that. He wasn't even sure Quirrel did it. Sure, it would be a pretty big coincidence, but there could be other people that wanted to kill Potter. Like ex-Death Eaters, for one.

"I don't know." The stress was coming on again at those three words, so he took a gulp of tea. There were a lot of things he didn't know, and it was killing him…

Vesperra could take the hint that Professor Snape didn't feel much like talking about Quirrel, which she was now sure was the reason for his stress. In fact, she had been stressing herself out wondering what Quirrel was up to, and it was even worse knowing that she couldn't do much about it. She had decided a while ago to leave Professor Snape to do that on his own, like he wanted, but it just seemed unfair that he would have to do all that alone.

"You'll find out soon enough. Quirrel shouldn't be too difficult to worm things out of." she assured him. That lessened the stress almost faster than the firewhiskey, and he initiated the change of subject.

"Vesperra… what was your mum like?"

That was unexpected, and her hand squirmed a bit under his at the shock. But she thought a moment, and answered.

"Well, she looks a lot like me… except the nose. I got that from my dad." Lightly touching her convex nose at the thought, she noticed Professor Snape absentmindedly touching his as well, and smiled a little. "But the same hair and eyes… And she's really hateful. Or at least she is to me and my dad. I don't know why she ever married him… Or had kids at all. She obviously never wanted any."

Snape furrowed his brow and stared intently at her. He just felt so… _sorry_ for her. She didn't deserve any of this… Then again, if her life hadn't been like that, he never would have liked her in the first place.

"…But, of course, she was a Slytherin… so she must be glad I'm one too−"

"So am I." he interrupted, and Vesperra gave him a half-smile. "Otherwise, you probably wouldn't be sitting here right now." Giving her hand a squeeze, he thought, _Or holding my hand._

"I am too. But I don't see how I could possibly have ended up anywhere else… Gryffindor− I'm not that into idiotic bravery… Hufflepuff− I'm not nice. Or friendly. And I don't even know why anyone would want to be in Hufflepuff. And Ravenclaw… Well, I suppose I could have been in Ravenclaw. I am pretty smart, but grades aren't all that matter to me… Anyway, back to my mum… So, I don't think she ever supported You-Know-Who, because, I mean, she _did_ marry a Muggle…"

_Yeah, and I loved a Muggleborn, but I still went and followed him_… One of his heartstrings seemed to break, because he felt a pang in his chest. Hiding it with another sip of his tea, he motioned for her to go on.

"You know, other than that, I actually don't know much about her. I pretty much avoid my parents at all costs and never talk to them… Oh, and she's also really strict about where I go and what I do, which is weird because I didn't think she cared about me. But that's it."

"I think most parents care about their children somewhat, even if they're just horrible most of the time. Parents are either so over-protective that they never want their kid to ever get hurt in any way, or just don't want them to die, and they couldn't care less about things like your feelings… What's her name, anyway? I might've known her."

"Cassandra… and I'm pretty sure her maiden name was Lestrange."

A detonator went off in his head. _Bloody. Shit._ He couldn't stop his eyes widening and the hand that was holding Vesperra's to squeeze a little too tight, though she didn't seem to mind. For a second, she suddenly imagined her as Bellatrix Lestrange, his old Death Eater friend, sunken, dark-lidded eyes and all. It wasn't very hard, as the connection had now been made. But in another moment, he realized that she could only be related by marriage, because Bellatrix was originally a Black.

_Wait, no… Rodolphus didn't have any sisters… but they definitely had cousins._ He was still in utter shock, and couldn't get over it. _So that's that… Vesperra's related to Voldemort's best lieutenant._ It hit him heavily, and refused to detach itself. _Then again,_ he assured himself, _all Pureblood families are related somehow. So everyone, save the Muggleborns, are related to ex-Death Eaters. Hell, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott are all sons of ex-Death Eaters._ Just in case, though, he decided not to tell her those details.

Vesperra noted his surprise at her mother's maiden name, and rather welcomed her hand being squeezed tighter. But he looked so shocked…

"So you knew her, then?"

"No, I didn't… but I knew her cousins. We were… well, you can't really call it friends, but… I knew them well."  
"Hmm… Well, she's a few years older than you, so I guess you wouldn't have known her."

Wishing he could forget she ever told him anything, he nonchalantly sipped his tea and glanced at the clock. It was 1:40.

"We missed lunch." he observed unenthusiastically. Vesperra followed his eyes to the clock, and only sank deeper into his couch. "Are you hungry?"

"Actually, I am." She meant it, but she wished she hadn't said it, because now she was sure Professor Snape would have to let go of her hand to get up and get something. Instead, he pulled her up by her hand and, still holding onto it, led her to the door.

"Come on, I'm going to show you the school kitchens."

"Why?"

"Because the House Elves will make us whatever we want."

They walked hand-in-hand to the stairs that led out of the dungeons, ready to break apart if anyone else showed up, then up them, and down the other stairway that was much brighter and led to the basement.

"So this is where the Hufflepuff Common Room is… I can't even imagine what it looks like inside." said Vesperra as she looked around at the bright yellow walls.

"Probably glitter and stuffed badgers everywhere…" Snape shuddered at the atrocious image in his mind. Finally, he stopped in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit, and stepped forward to tickle the pear. Vesperra thought it looked ridiculous, but a door appeared, just like the Room of Requirement had, and Professor Snape stepped inside it, pulling her in with him.

It was the largest kitchen she'd ever seen… not that she'd seen many kitchens. But it was the size of the Great Hall, with four long tables in the same positions, except there were ovens and dishes everywhere, all being attended to by a couple hundred House Elves. She never liked them… They were just so small and ugly, when one walked by her foot, she wanted to kick it.

A House Elf with long, thin ears and a stubby nose, accompanied by many others, hopped forward and greeted them so nicely, she couldn't believe it. "Hello Masters Snape and Misses Tobi has not seen before… Can Tobi and we get yous anything?" They smiled widely, as if their only happiness came from serving them.

Snape turned to Vesperra, waiting to see her reaction… It was surprised, confused, repulsed at the blunt kindness… Yes, just the way he liked her. She didn't seem to know what she wanted, so he told them.

"Get us each corn beef sandwiches, some rolls, and treacle fudge." He looked at Vesperra again for confirmation that she'd be okay with that, and she nodded her head.

"Yes, Master and Misses, right away we will get it for yous!" The House Elves scurried off, and two more brought them chairs. Vesperra was only just recovering from the shock, and suddenly noticed that Professor Snape was still holding her hand, but less tightly now.

"I hate the way they talk." she said at last. He didn't expect her to say anything positive, since she _was_ Vesperra… And he did, too. Those creatures could get so annoying… Whenever he visited the Malfoys, he made it a point of kicking Dobby, their House Elf, whenever he walked by. Lucius always laughed.

"Do all the teachers know about this?"

"I'm not sure. But I caught Fred and George Weasley coming down to the basement once, and found them in here. I don't think they've stopped coming here, but I can't stop them every time. They have ways…" Reminded once again of James Potter and Sirius Black, his voice became bitter, but he made a conscious effort to stop it. "I don't come here very often, but it's free food, and a good place to restock on firewhiskey."

Vesperra ceased being annoyed and smiled. A few minutes later, the House Elves brought them their food, and they left. Luckily, they still didn't meet anyone on the way back to his office. It wouldn't have been so bad if they saw a Hufflepuff, because then they'd feel no guilt about erasing their memory, but Slytherins tend to travel in packs… and groups are more difficult to Obliviate all at once. At least one is bound to escape.

Once there, they ate at his desk, so as to not spill anything on his couch, and he was still laying his hand on hers.

"You know, maybe you should just give me detentions, so we'd have an excuse to spend more time together." Vesperra suggested halfway through her second sandwich. She said it somewhat jokingly, but was serious about wanting to spend more time with him.

Snape wished he could spend more time with her, too, but it was a bad year for that. What with Quirrel being after the Sorcerer's Stone and Potter… these days where he could just sit and talk to her for hours would be rare. But he hoped he'd have a few more before that year ended. One thing he was sure of, though, is that there was no way it would last longer than a year. No Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had lasted longer than a year, so Quirrel would either be sacked or dead by June.

"Oh, how would _that_ look…" He leaned forward so that he was inches from her face, and wearing the expression he usually did with Neville Longbottom. "Miss D'Monicas, your potion is too perfect, and you're making everyone jealous… _Detention_." Snape's fake scowl curled at the edges and became a smile, and he exhaled as sort of a laugh.

Rather than squinting her eyes in a smile, she smiled with her eyes becoming so soft that they slipped out of focus for a second. It was partly because of his joke, and partly because, for some reason, she couldn't get over how much she loved the way he said 'Detention.'

But she knew that it was too much to ask for even more time with him… no matter how much she wanted it. There would always be their journals…

After finishing lunch, they returned to his couch, and sat a bit closer together, rubbing their full stomachs with the hands they weren't holding each other's with. The rest of their time spent was continued conversation, mostly about the goings on at Hogwarts, but nothing about Quirrel, and nothing too personal, since Snape was avoiding it after having discovered her family lineage.

Even if it wasn't delving into the deep psychological and productive conversations they could have had, they really enjoyed each other's company. Soon, they realized that they had lost track of the clock again and missed dinner.

"It doesn't matter, we had a big lunch." said Vesperra. She hated how a few seconds of pain would feel like forever, but a full day of absolute bliss went by in what seemed like an instant.

"Vesperra, you should be getting back to your dorm… it's late, and if you wait much longer, Filch'll catch you out after curfew."

No… she couldn't leave now.

"Why don't I just stay the night, then?" She was sure he'd be able to hear the desperation in her voice, but didn't care.

_Wait… why can't she?_ The idea hit Snape like a bucket of cold water, and he was just about to wave his wand and summon her nightclothes when rational thought took control again.

"I− The longer you stay, the harder it'll be to leave later. We've spent the entire day together… It has to end at some point. You need to go, and get a good night's sleep, and I'll talk to you tomorrow through the journal, okay?"

Vesperra could tell by the reluctant tone in his voice that he was sorry she had to go and he wanted her to stay just as much as she did. But she understood… Another hour with him, and she would never have let go. So she nodded her head, her gaze solemn. Slowly, they both looked down at their hands, which had been together for about eight hours straight.

For a moment, Snape felt as though he couldn't do it. Gradually, though, he slid his hand off of hers, letting his fingers slide in between her fingers as he lifted it up and onto his lap. It felt heavy, like he couldn't support that hand anymore with only his upper body strength.

Vesperra didn't move her hand, and instead just stared at it. Suddenly, a great empty feeling launched in the pit of her stomach and grew bigger by the second. It felt so strange and empty without his hand there, and yet, she could still feel it. Like when you lose a limb, and can swear it's still there.

Moving her other hand to hold the empty-feeling one to compensate for him not holding it, she stood up, and felt dizzy. She hadn't even stood up for hours… Professor Snape stood up immediately, and put one arm behind her back to steady her.

"Thanks." Then he walked her to the door, and opened it for her. Hesitating and still looking back at him, she stepped through the threshold to the cold corridors. Facing him like she did when she first entered, she managed a weak "Bye."

"Bye." Snape waited for her to turn and leave before he closed the door. Even then, he didn't want to. Stepping into his room, he immediately put on his nightclothes and went to bed, easily falling asleep without even spending a half an hour 'thinking' first− He had done enough thinking that day. As he drifted off to sleep, he made sure to do so laying with his face in the hand that had held Vesperra's all day.

* * *

Even after she had made it to her dorm, she still wanted to go straight back to Professor Snape's office. And her hand still felt empty. She felt as though she'd be better to just cut it off. But when she tried getting to sleep, she held that hand in between her face and her other hand. It was still warm from him holding it… Vesperra fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

**Now you know what was going on in Snape's head during Harry's first Quidditch match! And I loved writing the time spent between Vesperra and Snape... it's just so sweet. And I bet you didn't expect Vesperra to be related to the Lestranges. Yeah, neither did I. But she always reminded me somewhat of Bellatrix, with her ruthlessness, her love for violence...**

**In the next chapter: It's Christmastime! Even Snape deserves a good Christmas.**

**Please rate and review!**


	10. Book 1: Chapter 10

**This is the longest chapter yet, and it literally only took me four days. Thank God I had a three day weekend. Well, I also owe it to the fact that I've been thinking about this chapter ever since I started writing this story in the first place. Trust me, this will take a while to read. If you're a slow reader, make sure you have a couple free hours before you start reading. Get ready for a chapter of epic proportions... But just a warning, if you're a hardcore Snape/Lily shipper, you might cry. I did.**

* * *

The next day, Snape weighed his options. _It had to be Quirrell… It just had to be! Unless he had someone else do it for him… And what if it was some other ex-Death Eater? _He considered simply asking Lucius if he had done it, but the idea seemed stupid immediately after he thought it. Lucius had been right next to him, so he'd have noticed. Besides, he completely renounced Voldemort when his became the losing side.

So it must have been Quirrell. But of course, he couldn't just go and interrogate the man… Then he'd know how much Snape knew, which couldn't happen. All he could do was continue to act as a spy, like he was infamous for, and follow Quirrell around to make sure he didn't do anything else.

For the rest of November and a couple weeks into December, Snape did whatever her could to keep Potter as far away from Quirrell as possible, and Quirrell as far away from the room with the three-headed dog as possible.

Normally, it meant being particularly horrible to Potter, which he would have done anyway. But sometimes, when Quirrell's daily routes made an abrupt change or he seemed extra happy for no reason at all, he was extra mean and made sure Potter had detention with him, just so he could keep an eye on him and know he wasn't anywhere near Quirrell.

And when he couldn't do anything about Potter directly, Snape just kept following Quirrell. For a while, he didn't do anything suspicious. Well, at least not where he could follow him. It was very possible that he was plotting Potter's demise whenever he retreated to his quarters, and nowhere else.

It was nothing but stress− stress, frustration, anger, and loneliness. He couldn't control the years of built-up anger from a grudge against the boy's father, nothing was straightforward for him, and he was doing all this alone. Well, he wasn't completely alone. Not really. Vesperra still talked to him every night, and that always lessened that day's stress. Reading Lily's last message always calmed him down even more, and he would do that whenever he felt like giving up everything. Which was every other night.

The worst of it was that he hadn't had a face-to-face conversation with her in over a month. Sure, they talked every night through the journals, but it wasn't the same as spending real time with her. He was her only friend, and he wanted to be there when the other students started tormenting her or when she needed to cry. But the thing was, he had no idea if she was being tormented horribly or not, because he could hardly even watch her anymore. And she would never tell him if and when those things happened, anyway.

He really didn't want to distance himself from her, but it was happening, and he couldn't help it. Knowing this, Snape had extra motivation to do his duty and stop Quirrel from getting Potter or the Stone. The faster that was done, the faster he could return to Vesperra's life.

But Quirrell was smarter than he let on, because he was strangely able to evade him and lose him when he was on his trail, and yet showed no sign of knowing he was being followed. Getting the horrible feeling that he was attempting to seize the Sorcerer's Stone every time Quirrell lost him, he went straight for the room… But given the giant three-headed dog in there, he had hardly a couple seconds to open the door, see that Quirrell wasn't anywhere in sight, and close it before he was eaten.

Snape was completely dumbfounded. _Quirrell must have been in there… Where else would he be going? But he wasn't in the room… Could he have already gotten past the beast?_ It was impossible to keep track of him, and he was becoming paranoid. Finally, he let his previous pride issues go, and went to see Dumbledore.

He relayed to the Headmaster what he'd been doing, the little he had come up with, and what he thought it meant.

"I assure you, Severus, Quirrell could not have gotten past everything guarding the Stone." Dumbledore told him with a Dumbledore-esque smile.

"_How_ can you be so naive?" Snape hated how he always had to resort to yelling from Albus making him so angry. "Not everything you do is foolproof!"  
The Headmaster remained calm, not seeming to notice that Snape was seething. "But you helped with one of the guards, Severus… surely you don't doubt your own abilities?"

"I don't, but−"  
"_And_ yours is the last guard. Meaning, I'm expecting that if someone were to somehow make it through everything else, your guard is my last hope, and only someone with enough skill to defeat everything else and more would have a chance at solving it."

His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back into his chair, calming his breathing. That didn't help him much with dealing with what Quirrell was up to now, but he was somewhat relieved that the Stone would ultimately be safe.

"Then what do you suppose Quirrell's been doing every time I lose track of him?"

"Planning something alone would be my guess. In someplace where he won't be disturbed, like his own office."  
"But why would he backtrack just to return to his office?" Snape's voice was raising again. Dumbledore merely opened a chocolate frog, pinched the squirming piece of chocolate in between two long fingers and ate it, then peered down to read the card.

Not looking up from the card, he said simply, "That's your job to find out, Severus."

_Every time. Every time, he does this to me! I always end up infuriated with him when I decided to confide something in him…_ He knew that Dumbledore had given him this duty specifically to be done on his own, but he'd still like more than empty words that didn't direct him at all. He needed some damn help.

Scowling, he left without a goodbye.

* * *

For Vesperra, the next few weeks were depressing, yet somehow good at the same time. She hadn't spoken with Professor Snape since the day they spent together, and tried to live in that memory whenever she missed having face-to-face conversations with him, which was most of the time, and when she had nothing else to do.

It was the best she'd ever felt, that day. How she loved the way he spoke to her with a voice he didn't dare use with anyone else… a soft one. A friendly one. Soft for him, of course… Most would still call it stiff and curt, but it would have been strange for anyone else to hear him with it.

And how he just grasped her hand the entire time, all to comfort her. But he didn't let go afterward.

Even in Potions class, she didn't have many chances to talk with him. Then again, nothing important enough to talk about happened… but she didn't care what about. She just wanted to talk to him. It didn't matter, anyway, because he always disappeared right at the end of class before she even had a chance to confront him. Spying on Quirrell, she supposed. He was doing that constantly these days…

And she absolutely hated it. Vesperra knew that he had to stop Quirrell from getting whatever it was he was trying to get, but she hated that it took him away from her. Quirrell had been avoiding her as well, since he probably suspected their close relationship. To a point, she was glad he was afraid of her, but also immensely angry at him for existing.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had paid close attention to him, just in case she could pick up something important enough to tell Professor Snape. Then, she'd have an excuse to talk to him and he'd be one step closer to get rid of Quirrell. But, no such luck for her. The man _was_ as suspicious as ever, what with his horrible stutter and not looking people in the eye, but all she could gather was that he left immediately after class every day, which she was sure Professor Snape already knew.

However, since Professor Snape could never stay around for long or be near her that much, the other students were somewhat easier on her. One of their main sources of fun was teasing her about liking him so much, but now, they didn't have much to say. At first, they began commenting on her looking extra depressed with things like, "Why so sad, broken up with Snape?" But that got old soon enough.

Rather than just going back to the usual torment, it became even less. After the Quidditch game, Malfoy and the other Slytherins preferred insulting Harry Potter than her. She actually didn't mind laughing inside about the things he said, because she, too, was jealous and angry at Potter.

Since people seemed to be ignoring her lately, she decided to go out for a walk around the school grounds one Sunday evening before dinner. It was freezing, so she knew no one else would be walking around, and she was used to living in constantly cold temperatures, so she didn't mind it.

There were a few people out and about though, but none of them even glanced at her. She liked the feeling of being able to walk by people without them staring or throwing her a disgusted look, whether it was because they hadn't even heard of her or because they were afraid to look at her. And there were also students out in the snow, either building Snow Hippogriffs and Unicorns or having snowball fights.

As she walked through one of the outer corridors, she saw Quirrell hurriedly crossing the courtyard, and Fred and George Weasley bewitching snowballs to bounce off the back of his turban. The surrounding students were laughing, and Vesperra actually stopped to watch.

It felt oddly satisfying to see Quirrell be humiliated, and she was also anxious for his turban to fall off. Finally, she'd get to see…

But she didn't. The turban hardly budged, and she had a strange feeling that it had been charmed to stay that way. Still, she watched until Quirrell managed to escape by heading back through the corridor where Vesperra was standing, and hurried even faster when he passed her.

Still laughing, the Weasley Twins passed her as well on their way inside, but went in a different direction.

"Blimey, isn't she the one that−"  
"Nearly killed Malfoy? I think so, bro."  
"I reckon Quirrell's scared of her…"

Their voices were soon too far away to hear, and Vesperra resumed walking around the castle. Even though Professor Snape had told her how much he hated the Weasley twins, she suddenly didn't mind them so much. Sure, they were wild, rule-breaking Gryffindors, and Weasleys to boot, but they were humiliating Quirrell, so they had a common hatred. And she couldn't help but find it amusing how they completed each other's sentences.

When those short musings were done, she remembered that they were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and went back to hating them. Although, they gave her the idea to do the same the next chance she got… but when she heard how they had gotten detention for that, it was immediately out of the question.

A few days later, she had Double Potions, and she was looking very much forward to it.

* * *

It being Mid-December, the dungeons were especially cold− enough that you could see your breath. Both Vesperra and Snape noticed how the students stood as close to their cauldrons as possible for warmth, and mentally scoffed at them.

_Looks like Vesperra's used to the cold… No doubt because her mother must have never turned on the heat for her…_ Coincidentally, that was pretty similar to the reason he was so used to the cold as well. That, and because he'd been the Potions Master for ten years, so he'd gone through plenty of winters like this.

As he made it to her and peered into her cauldron, he set his hand down on the table. Accidentally-on-purpose, part of his hand rested upon her left hand, and her heart leaped.

For a moment, both acted as if they didn't notice, but Vesperra paused working on her potion to focus on feeling his hand and only that. Hearing him mutter, "Too perfect," and even softer, so his lips seemed not to move and only she could hear him, "_Detention…"_ she cocked her head to catch the glint in his cold eyes. She stared back thankfully for a moment, and returned to her potion.

_Bloody Hell…_ he cursed in his mind as he continued to check the other students' potions. _Her hands are ice-cold._ He wondered if his had felt the same to her, and how it was possible that people as cold-blooded as them could survive during Winter.

Contrary to what he thought, Professor Snape's hand was quite warming to Vesperra. Even so, it was probably just in her head. Stirring the potion counterclockwise with her right hand, she stroked her left knuckles across her cheek, and was doing so until she heard Malfoy say rather loudly,

"I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home." Looking at Potter as he said it, he folded his arms and turned to Crabbe and Goyle, waiting for them to laugh. When they did, he looked satisfied and continued smirking at Potter, who ignored him.

Snape usually smirked at Malfoy's remarks towards Potter, but he didn't this time. What he had said basically summarized what he knew would happen with Vesperra. He would stayed at Hogwarts for the Holidays as a child, except Lily always went home for Christmas, and he lived near her… So his real Christmas present would be spending more time with her.

Suddenly, Vesperra took in what Malfoy said. She had completely forgotten that it was nearly Christmas, and that most people would be going home in a couple days. Then, she felt somewhat depressed. Even though she didn't want to go home anyway, she was sure her mum would be glad without her there. Also feeling angry, she had a wicked idea and seriously considered doing what she had done a few months back when she was planning her revenge on him.

She thought about acting angrier than she was and knocking over Malfoy's cauldron on purpose or something, so Professor Snape would have no choice but to actually give her detention right then and there. Then, he'd have to make time for her.

But then, she realized that she'd be spending over two weeks, starting Saturday, without Malfoy around. _And Professor Snape can't be busy with spying on Quirrell all Christmas Break… So we'll definitely be able to have time together! _At that, she threw away her idea. It seemed stupid anyway, now that she thought about it. _Besides, he'd just 'forget' to give me detention or tell me I didn't really have any, later…_

Happier than she had been in weeks, she spent the rest of class finishing her potion and suppressing a blissful smile.

Snape glanced at Vesperra, and saw her face harden, but then soften again. It was hard to tell since she was looking down into her cauldron with her hair falling over her face, but he could have sworn he saw her eyes light up too. _What could she be happy about…?_

He found out that night, when he and Vesperra talked through the journals as usual.

_**I can't believe it's already almost Christmas… But I'm glad I'll finally have a few weeks without Malfoy or pretty much anyone else around. **_

_I'd think you would be. Although, for me, it won't be very fun, because now that the castle will be mostly empty, Quirrell will see it as a chance to steal that thing I told you about. _

Vesperra's hopes plummeted… she really thought she'd be getting some time with him.

_**So you'll be busy all break?**_

The only thing that she hated about the journals was that even though she would have said that sentence calmly if they had been talking in person, she knew he must have heard the despair in her voice.

And he did. Snape didn't know what he could say to make it better. It was his duty to protect the Stone, the school, and the boy, but he couldn't tell her any of that. He would just have to leave her on her own to wonder why… even though he didn't want to.

_I may or may not be busier than I normally am. But either way, I'll still make time to talk to you every night. I do that now, and it only keeps me up later to have time to grade essays. So you know I'm going to find time to talk to you, no matter what._

_**But it's not the same as actually spending time with you. I know you have to do this, but I hate it.**_

_I hate it too, Vesperra. I really do. It's stressful, time-consuming, and I never get time to myself. Don't think I like having to follow Quirrell around all the time, only to find that I've gone in a circle, and spend another night worrying that he's gotten farther in finding out how to get past the beast in that room, that and I've gotten nowhere. Trust me, I'd give my right leg to just catch him and be done with this, and I almost did._

He regretted sending that message as soon as he did, but it was too late. He already slashed the corner.

_**I'd prefer you keep all your body parts. And I'm sorry, I never thought for a second that you like it. But I just hate that you have to be so stressed, which you don't deserve, which in turn makes me stressed, and it's all because of Quirrell. Why don't we just kill him?**_

_I've thought about that multiple times, and I think it's a great idea. But simple as it is, I can't do that. I have, however, asked the Headmaster why he doesn't just sack Quirrell, and he won't give me a straight answer, the old dingbat._

_**Is Dumbledore senile? He must be insane… No Headmaster in their right mind would know everything that you and I know about Quirrell and still want to keep him on as a teacher.**_

_I'm pretty sure he is. And I have no idea what he means by having me do everything and him doing nothing. He trusts me more than any of the other teachers, and not without good reason, but if Quirrell's such a danger, then he should be attempting to stop him as well._

_**Maybe he's testing your loyalty, and won't interfere until it's necessary. Maybe he's expecting you to quit, and wants to see exactly what lengths you'll go to for him.**_

_That is bloody brilliant of you, and I mean it. I'm absolutely sure he would never doubt my loyalty, but since it hasn't come down to a crisis like this yet, it makes perfect sense that he would want to make sure there isn't anything that I wouldn't do._

_**Why is he so sure? What have you done to make sure he'd never be suspicious of you?**_

Snape knew she'd ask this eventually, what with him throwing that fact around in the conversation so much. And he had told himself months ago that if she asked about Lily, then he'd tell her… but he couldn't. Not this way. She hadn't any idea she was asking such a personal question, and she definitely wasn't expecting as shocking an answer that it could be. No… if he ever told her, he'd have to have a whole day to spend with her, so he could tell her in person and look her in the eyes when he was doing it. Besides, she hadn't asked about Lily directly… so technically, he wasn't breaking his promise to himself.

_He knows things from my past that prove I'd never betray him. And, in a way, I am repaying him._

Vesperra could tell by the fact that he was being vague that the details were too personal to tell her, so she didn't ask any more.

_**If Quirrell was able to steal this thing that's being guarded, would it affect Hogwarts directly?**_

_No, I don't think it would. But no one should be allowed to own this thing, so it can't fall into the wrong hands._

_**Then why does it even exist? And why is it here? Why can't it be guarded somewhere else? Hell, if Dumbledore knows Quirrell's after it, why doesn't he move the thing so Quirrell doesn't know where it is?**_

_It wasn't created for evil purposes, but I can't tell you exactly why. I'm trying to be vague here. The thing is here because Hogwarts is the safest place for hiding anything, because no one can get in if we don't want them to. The trouble is, the person trying to get it is already on the inside. And once again, don't expect me to know the answer to why Dumbledore does what he does. You know, with how brilliant you are, you should become Headmistress one day. _

_**But don't you have to be a Professor first? I could never be a teacher. I'd end up murdering a student on my first day.**_

_You're saying you don't want to help mold young minds and cherish their development into skilled witches and wizards? My job as a Potions Master is quite thrilling, and I love to see the smiles on their faces every morning, because they're so eager to learn._

Vesperra laughed out loud at the message practically dripping in saracasm, and hoped she hadn't woken Millicent up.

_**You love seeing their looks of fear when you walk by them.**_

_I do, actually. And the tears they cry at night because of me make it even better. _

_**I suppose you're referring to Longbottom and all the Hufflepuffs. I feel really sorry for you, though. You must hate having to teach all those prats.**_

_Well, it's not that bad anymore, now that I know you. To be honest, talking to you is like a natural stress-relief. I don't even bother taking Calming Droughts anymore._

Vesperra couldn't believe what she just heard. Reading that message twice more of her own accord, she smiled at the thought that she was so important to him. And that no one else was ever this important to him, as far as she knew.

Snape was glad to admit it, but suddenly regretted putting her in that position. She was probably at an utter loss as to what she could say…

_**I know I can't possibly compare my stress to yours, but you're the same for me. Or at least, you're the only thing that can make me happy. Well, you, and seeing Potter being humiliated…**_

It wasn't quite as heartfelt as his confession, but he knew it was the best she could do. Vesperra was cold-hearted, but so was he. So he didn't mind it.

_I'm glad I make you happy, then− by being me and humiliating Potter._

As that night progressed, the weight on Snape's chest grew lighter and lighter. They both fell asleep happy and clutching their journals, ready for the last day before Christmas Break.

* * *

The Christmassy feeling only grew stronger within the next couple days, since Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, had brought in a dozen giant fir trees, which were placed around the Great Hall and had been decorated by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. They were covered in glowing balls of light and tiny icicles, which gave the illusion of them sparkling. There were festoons of holly and mistletoe hung around the walls, and couples were exchanging sweet kisses left and right.

"Bet you wish you could catch Snape under the mistletoe, huh?" Vesperra heard someone snicker behind her as she stopped to stare disgustedly at a kissing couple. Twisting around on her heel, she saw that it was− not a Slytherin− but Seamus Finnigan. _So he's finally brave enough to talk to me again…_ She scowled. If he had put what she had done behind him, there was no doubt he'd continue to taunt her again as the year progressed. Ignoring him, she resumed walking to class.

Vesperra was one of the last-minute signups for staying at Hogwarts over the Holidays, as she had completely forgotten about it the weeks prior. She got some weird looks, though, because no one knew her to wait until the last minute to do anything. And she didn't bother to write to her mum and ask about it, either, because she was sure she'd expect her not to come home.

None of the Christmassy air affected her, and she remained as bitter as ever. The last classes before the Holidays officially started were even full of 'Christmas cheer,' and everyone found her even more off-putting than usual.

Flitwick impressed everyone with a charm that caused it to snow in the classroom, and frowned a bit when all Vesperra did was wipe the snow off from her hair and robes and melt it with a spell. Sprout showed them all the magical properties of mistletoe, even though it really wasn't on the curriculum until their third year. Apparently, it was used in a special type of brandy and actually had an aura that set off feelings of love. She also had it hanging on every square inch of the greenhouse ceiling, which explained why everyone was so unnaturally giddy.

When she muttered that she felt nothing at all, half-intending for someone to hear her, a Ravenclaw boy replied in not so much of a mutter, "That's because Snape isn't here." The surrounding students laughed, and though Sprout hadn't seemed to have heard what they were laughing at, she was obviously fighting back a smile herself.

_Ravenclaws, and their clever remarks…_ It wasn't surprising that the rumor about her liking Professor Snape _that way_ had traveled so fast, but it was unsettling how it was now likely that she'd be teased for that wherever she went.

She didn't expect McGonagall to be as whimsical, but she was wrong. Transfiguration started off with her transforming her desk into a reindeer, and let everyone pet it before she changed it back. Originally, she was only bitterer from the excitement in the air, but when the reindeer nearly bit Malfoy's hand off, Vesperra smirked and gave it a thankful rub on its snout.

Luckily, she didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts that day, so that meant she probably wouldn't be seeing Quirrell at all for the next two weeks. Professor Snape would, though, and then she wasn't so relieved.

The next day, she didn't bother to watch as the majority of the school was escorted by Hagrid and some of the Professors back to where the Hogwarts Express would take them back home for Christmas. Only one other Slytherin in first year was staying, and that was Theodore Nott. Vesperra wondered for a moment if his parents didn't want him home either, but then figured that if they didn't, it was probably just because they were traveling for the Holidays with their huge piles of Galleons. So she didn't care anymore.

Then, there were a few older Slytherins staying, but she didn't know their names. Potter was obviously staying, as were all the Weasleys. Other than that, she really had no idea, nor did she care. When those leaving had left, Vesperra decided to leave her dorm. The Common Room was empty except for one person, which she recognized as Theodore Nott. He looked up at her from his book, said nothing, and went back to reading.

Silently considering him, she figured he wasn't as direct as Malfoy, so he would probably never be the one to antagonize her first. Maybe he really didn't mind her at all, and only went along with the torment because it just felt like the thing to do. Or maybe he was afraid of her, especially since he was alone. The latter seemed more likely.

She left the Common Room, and began walking through the dungeon corridors. Where she was going, she wasn't sure… she just didn't want to be stuck in her room with nothing to do, since there were no classes or homework. Before she had left, she grabbed her journal and stuffed it in her robes just in case, so she was now feeling her side for any slight vibrations to check if he had written every few minutes.

When she had exited the stairs and was in the small corridor that held two other staircases, an idea came to her. _I haven't had breakfast, and I could use a snack. Why not?_ So, descending the stairs that ultimately led to the Hufflepuff Common Room, she thought about the day she spent with Professor Snape and how they went down there… Now, she figured she'd be coming to the kitchens regularly.

As she turned the first corner in her path, she suddenly froze in her tracks. Fred and George Weasley were feet from her, clearly having come from the kitchens, as they were holding stacks of cakes. The carefree smiles that they wore a moment prior had been wiped off by her sudden presence and replace with grimaces. It seemed like they were merely uncomfortable, like this was just an awkward situation, nothing to panic about. But they were definitely confused.

The three of them remained still and silent for a minute, the twins both staring her down and her finding it difficult to stare at both of them at the same time without feeling like she was seeing double and getting a headache. Finally, one of the twins inhaled, and Vesperra allowed herself to blink.

"Did Snape send you down here?" he asked, not shifting his stiff and drawn-back composure.

"No… I'm… here for the same reason you were." she answered warily, feeling strange that this was her first friendly conversation with anyone but Professor Snape. Well, not mutually hateful, at least.

"You know about the kitchens?" they both said at once, then the one on the left said, "The fruit portrait and the pear and everything?" Then they spoke in unison again after giving each other a confused smile, "We thought we were the only ones."

Vesperra noticed how when they spoke at the same time, their voices made a weird ringing effect, but still didn't move a muscle besides her lips and eyes.

"Well apparently, you're not… Now, do you mind?"

Both casting her the same wry smile, one nudged the other and they hurried around her and up the stairs, presumably back to Gryffindor Tower, careful not to drop their stacks of cakes. As she began walking again, Vesperra looked back for a moment to watch them leave, but quickly turned forward again and made it to the portrait of fruit. Tickling the pear and opening the door that appeared, she was greeted by many House Elves that must have been excited out of their mind to get to have two visits in one day.

She told them to get her some cakes and treacle fudge and, feeling spontaneous, asked them if they had any firewhiskey. They all lost their frantic smiles all of a sudden, and looked strangely nervous.

"Sorry, Miss, we is not keeping that here… It− it is only in Hogsmeade, Miss…" The House Elf telling her this looked as if it might cry, at which she only pursed her lips and scowled in annoyance.

"It's fine− it's _fine_, dammit…" But the elf's face just got sadder and sadder, so as soon as she could, she took her cakes and left.

_Where to. next?_ she thought, going up the stairs. She had the whole castle to wander around… she could go anywhere she wanted, and no one would see her and taunt her about whether she was looking for Professor Snape to snog under the mistletoe or anything. Then again, she wouldn't mind happening to see him as she was walking around…

If he wasn't indefinitely following Quirrell around this very moment or busy with other work he needed to catch up on, she would have headed straight to Professor Snape's office and sat down to eat those cakes with him, and let herself smile like she never normally would and hold his hand. But he was, so she couldn't.

Instead, memories that were months old came flooding back to her, and she instantly knew where she would go. After about six flights of stairs and so much brisk walking that her calves were burning, she found herself on the seventh floor corridor, pacing back and forth across an empty wall.

_Now… what exactly do I want it to be…? A room that… I can relax in. And be entertained… Yes, that's it._ Hoping her vague instructions would work, she passed the wall three times, focusing hard on what she wanted. As she almost didn't expect, a simple, wooden door appeared, and she went through it.

Vesperra had stopped using the Room of Requirement for so long, she nearly forgot about it. Since it was her own personal room to relax now, it was draped in green and silver, then accented in black; the walls were lined with shelves of books, and there were a few cages of what she assumed were animals like in her old use of the room, stacked near a large, comfy-looking chair.

_Hmm… I suppose torturing some animals would cheer me up a bit right now…_ But when she reached the cages, she saw that they each had a snake in them, and they all got really excited upon seeing her. This was the first time she had been near a snake since her second week at Hogwarts, and since then, her Parselmouth abilities had gone unused.

It really was the place for her. For the rest of the day until dinner (she decided to miss lunch), she ate fudge, spoke to the snakes and let them hang out around her shoulders as she paced around, looked through some of the books, and just sat in the chair to relax, which was the most comfortable thing she had ever sat on in her entire life. Well, it was right up there with Professor Snape's couch.

_Professor Snape…_ Even the sense of somewhat of a heaven couldn't distract her anymore from the fact that she missed him… so much. Telling the snakes to slither off her in Parseltongue, she left the Room of Requirement and went down to dinner.

Like he had told her, he was obviously just as busy as he was before the Holidays, because he seemed paler than usual at dinner as he glared at Quirrell through his hair that framed his face like black curtains… But it was also a bit messier than usual. Flyaway strands of hair stuck to his face with sweat, and gave him sort of a frantic look.

With hardly anyone staying at Hogwarts for Christmas and Theodore Nott being the only person anywhere near her, Vesperra didn't restrain herself from staring at Professor Snape the whole time. However, he only stared back once, and his eyes conveyed an apologetic look.

Of course, she still talked to him that night and the ones that followed, but even though she had never really had a good Christmas herself, she felt like he should be spending time with her during the Holidays, because that's just what they're for− spending time with the people you love.

The next few days, she returned to the Room of Requirement to keep herself entertained, but not the kitchens. She didn't want to run into the Weasley twins again, and it would feel more repetitive than she wanted to be. It always came down to her being depressed at the end of the day that she had spent it alone with a bunch of snakes (not that she minded the snakes) instead of Professor Snape.

Although, it crossed her mind that she should get him something for Christmas. _But what would he want?_ And either way, she'd prefer to give it to him in person instead of putting it under the biggest tree in the Great Hall and letting it be delivered to the foot of his bed. Vesperra imagined that hers would be the only present there, save maybe something eccentric from Dumbledore. Then, she wondered if he was going to give her anything. She would be surprised if he didn't, since he probably wasn't even thinking about it with how much he was stressing over Quirrell. And she didn't ask him, either, because she didn't want him to feel obliged.

It felt weird that she was so close to him, and yet… she had no idea what he'd want. As a child, he must not have gotten many presents, either, so she doubted he'd expect anything from anyone. Even so, that only made her more anxious to make sure she'd give him the perfect present.

_A potion? I could make anything if I just had the instructions… No, he's the bloody Potions Master, he has everything. A book? I know he must like to read… but if he's busy with spying on Quirrell all the time, he won't ever have time to read it. He'd want something that's practical, but also meaningful. What's practical for him? Something that'll help him catch Quirrell… but if he doesn't know, how could I possibly know? All he wants to do is relax… relax. Like I'm doing._

That was it. She could show him the Room of Requirement as a present. When she first thought about telling him, she worried that she might not be supposed to know about it. Or that Professor Snape already knew. But now that he had shown her how to get to the kitchens, something the students weren't supposed to know, Vesperra was sure he didn't know about the Room of Requirement. If he did, he'd have showed her as well.

Now that she knew what she would give him, there was still the issue of how she'd make the time to show him. She couldn't just pull him out of his duties and drag him to the Room… So she decided that she'd leave him a card telling him that she had her real present for him, but she had to show him in person. Then he'd find time that night, during the time when they usually talked through the journals. Yes, that would work.

On Christmas Eve, she ate dinner solemnly, though she was actually somewhat excited on the inside. Vesperra couldn't wait to show him the Room of Requirement… No doubt he'd find a good use for it. _Hell, it might even get his job done with Quirrell faster, and then he could go back to spending time with me!_

Before heading back to her dorm, she set an envelope addressed _Severus Snape_ under the largest Christmas tree in the Great Hall, thankful that there weren't a whole lot of people around to give her strange looks.

As she lay in her bed about an hour before she'd even expect Professor Snape to write her a message, she thought about what he must be doing. _Surely Quirrell wouldn't go after it on Christmas… It's just not the time for it. He-who-must-not-be-named killed Potter's parents on Halloween, but that makes sense. Halloween's already an evil day… sort of. But Quirrell did try to steal this thing on Halloween… Still, Christmas is completely different. Then again, no one would expect it… Except Professor Snape. And me._

All of a sudden and completely unexpected, her journal, which was still inside her robes, began thumping against her ribcage. A jolt of excitement and confusion surged through her as she pulled it out and opened it in one swift movement. His voice rang out and echoed through the room− there were hints of desperation and suppressed excitement;

_I'm outside the Common Room. Come now._

* * *

There was only one day left before Saturday, and then Hogwarts would be relatively empty. Everyone was full of Christmas cheer, and this irritated Snape almost as much as it had on Halloween. While there wasn't anything personal about it, he hated that everyone was so happy while he was so stressed. And then, of course, once everyone left, it would only be more convenient for Quirrell to try and steal the Stone.

Since Potter was staying, he was sure Quirrell would be after him over the Holidays as well. It would be much easier to kill him if he was alone… So now, he had to make sure he knew where Quirrell and Potter were every moment, so they wouldn't find each other in a deserted corridor.

Friday evening, Snape followed the trio as inconspicuously as possible, and saw that they went straight to the library and, by the looks of it, planned to stay there a while. He was so relieved that he didn't even wonder why they were in the library right before the Holidays. _Good, Quirrell wouldn't dare try anything with Madam Pince in there_… As usual, he spied on Quirrell, and didn't come up with anything. Nothing a good conversation with Vesperra couldn't fix…

On Saturday morning, most children had left on the Hogwarts Express to go back home, which meant things could only get worse. That afternoon, he saw that Potter and Weasley were in the library again, and left them to do whatever they were doing. He patrolled the hallways, but found no sign of Quirrell.

Checking the third floor corridor like usual, he stopped as he looked down at his feet− there were drops of blood leading from the room with the three-headed dog. They were small, and they would have gone unnoticed if he wasn't focusing on them, but it was definitely blood. There were a couple drops every few feet, so he followed them.

Snape's heart leapt, did a backflip, and landed with precision and confidence. Could he finally have something? Could this be the day? Finally, he was standing in front of Quirrell's office, and the door wasn't closed all the way. Quirrell was talking, and sounded very scared…

"I- I don't… I can't do this!" Then, there was that dreadful hissing noise he had heard the other time he was able to eavesdrop on him.

"But I barely survived−"

_Hisss…._

"How can I?"

_Hissssssssss…._

"What if I don't−?"

_Hisssss…_

"Okay!" Quirrell said finally, with fear and dread consuming his voice. Snape heard footsteps becoming louder, and cast a quick Disillusionment Charm. As Quirrell threw the door open and nervously ran out, Snape acted without thinking and skirted around him and into his office. The door was immediately closed and locked with Quirrell's _Colloportus_, and Snape waited until the footsteps died to remove the Disillusionment Charm.

Never having been this lucky, he marveled for a moment at how he had finally been in the right place at the right time, and actually gotten somewhere. When the initial pride wore off, he began searching Quirrell's office. But suddenly, he realized; Quirrell had been talking to _someone_, but no one seemed to be there.

"_Homenum Revelio_." Nothing. Maybe he was communicating with this person through the Floo Network… But that still didn't explain why all he could hear was a hissing sound. _Could he be talking to a snake? Vesperra's a Parselmouth, so if he is, she could tell me what it's saying…_

He shot down his own idea within seconds− _But Quirrell obviously isn't, because he's speaking in English! And even if he was, I can't just have Vesperra with me all the time in case I'm lucky enough to catch him while he's in his office again… It's too dangerous for her._

In haste to hurry and find out all he could before Quirrell returned, Snape continued searching his office, careful not to move anything. About ten minutes passed, and he found absolutely nothing. It was all the normal things you'd find in a Defense Against the Dark Arts office… books, stacks of papers, and an extra touch of Quirrell's; garlic. The only peculiar thing he noticed was that the floor was a mess− That meant Quirrell must be having trouble keeping up with his school duties with all the work he was putting into stealing the Stone.

Slytherin's weren't known for giving up, but he had exhausted all his abilities and searched every drawer, every file, and every square inch of the room. He even pulled some of his own hair out in the process. It was a good thing the Locking Spell only worked from the outside, or he'd have been trapped in there.

Realizing dinner had just started, he reluctantly went to the Great Hall, where he ate absentmindedly, not even tasting his food, for he was too busy keeping his eyes on Quirrell, who looked shaken, but otherwise not any more suspicious than usual. His head was pounding, and he figured it must have been from pulling his hair out so hard.

Allowing himself a break from his routine, yet futile attempt to analyze Quirrell, he glanced at Vesperra. She must have been staring at him the entire time, because she was relaxed in her position, resting her face in one hand and lifting spoonfuls of soup into her mouth without looking at it. Her eyes lit up when he caught them, and he saw the longing behind them. Looking back with sad eyes, he thought to her, _I'm sorry_.

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses with a knowing smile, and Snape scowled. _I bet you love seeing how hard it is for me to do this…_ But why would he? Albus was always so irrationally nice… and he even gave Vesperra the journal that allowed them to talk every night. _Maybe he's just glad I have someone to care about…_

The rest of the week was not so eventful, and was actually more like what it had been before the Holidays. Talking to Vesperra every night was still the only comfort he had, and he grew more and more frustrated during the day. Luckily, however, Quirrell wasn't as active during the day as Snape thought he'd be. But he could never assume he'd have a free day, and still patrolled the corridors. It gave him somewhat of a sense of accomplishment the couple times he had ran into Quirrell, and the man had been forced to backtrack. But then, he'd turn out to not be going back to his office after all, and just disappeared altogether.

_He can't be Apparating, can he? No, no one can Apparate inside Hogwarts… Could he be an Animagus? Wait− no. Dumbledore would know._ Smirking at the idea of the man transforming into a Squirrel, he relaxed some, but then went back to thinking as he strode through the corridors. _Where's he going to? Does he know secret passageways through the school? Maybe he's going through other rooms…_

The same thoughts circled his head like a broken record, until he had enough of it and tried to think of something else. Vesperra came to mind, and how she was the only one that could make him feel better in this… except for Lily. Lily was the sole reason he was going through so much stress… and he'd gladly go through this for her. She'd be happy that he was protecting her son… and she'd probably be happy that Snape had someone besides her memory to keep him going.

On Christmas Eve, he was feeling horrible. This was supposed to be a happy time, and even though he had never really had any particularly happy Christmases, he hated that he had to spend it doing what he did so much as a Death Eater… spying. And he hated that Lily wasn't alive to spend it with, and he hated that he couldn't even spend it with Vesperra.

Quirrell was on the fifth floor, and walking briskly. The corridors were dark, and Snape could still make out the man's footsteps in the distance. He tried to follow the direction the sound was coming from, and had to turn multiple times, sometimes backtracking or going in circles, but finally, he stepped into a corridor the moment Quirrell turned the corner at the other end, and caught a glimpse of his turban.

Jogging to keep up, Snape made it to the end of that hall right as he heard a door close. Turning left, the way Quirrell had, he determined by ear that it must have either been the second or third door− he chose the second.

Snape couldn't recall ever entering this classroom, whether in his days as a student or teacher. Well, Quirrell wasn't in it, but he had a good reason for not leaving immediately. It was a large room, mostly empty except for the chairs and desks stacked up against the wall to his right. On the wall facing him, however, was a mirror extending all the way to the ceiling, which stood on clawed feet.

The ornate gold frame shimmered even in the dim light, and he could just make out an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. He knew what this was. He had heard about it a few times before… but he thought it was just legend. It was The Mirror of Erised, and he knew the inscription read backwards: _I show not your face but your heart's desire_.

Heart pounding and forgetting Quirrell completely, he closed his eyes and slowly shuffled toward it, each step feeling as though someone else was moving his feet for him. He felt weirdly light, like he could dissolve into mere particles and float away into nothingness. At once, he stopped as he stood directly in front of the Mirror.

Breathing deeply and evenly, he tried to relax his shoulders as he opened his eyes. In the mirror, he saw not only himself, but a beautiful, young-looking woman with long, flowing auburn hair that fell perfectly around her face and halfway down her back, and her arms around him, hugging him by the chest as she stood at his side. She wore a pearl-white silk dress that almost reached the floor and teased around her ankles. Her cheek was pressed into his chest and her green eyes looked up at him longingly. She smiled in her gorgeous way, and it reached her eyes before it reached her lips, just like he always noticed Vesperra's did.

Suddenly, he realized that he was now standing so close to the mirror that his hooked nose nearly touched it. All air had left his lungs upon seeing Lily, but now that she was there, he didn't seem to need it. Tears filled his eyes, but didn't blur his vision of what he saw in the Mirror. They ran down his cheeks and accumulated as puddles on the floor, and only left his eyes faster when he tried to stop. Instead, he welcomed the tears− he needed them. For what felt like ages he kept his eyes on the Mirror's vision, and was smiling more than he thought possible for someone with as hardened a face as his. It was a sad smile, for something that was long-waited for, but filled with more love than anyone could ever feel for another human being, and more longing, and so much ache…

Lily's smile was the same, but not quite as sad. She was crying too, and his robes soak it up. Her tears only made her even more beautiful to him, and he let out a single whimper from how much he missed her. Finally, he dared to look down to his left side… and he didn't see her there. He didn't really expect to, but he so desperately wished that what he saw in the Mirror was real that he had irrational hope.

Shifting his eyes back to the Mirror but not the position of his head or neck, he saw Lily's smile faltering into a sad look, and her neck arching upward. Still holding onto him, she tilted her head and placed her lips upon his. Snape let out another whimper of longing, and kissed her back. He felt it, he really did… her soft lips were there, they must have been real… But when he looked at where her face was supposed to be, he didn't see anything. And he didn't feel her there anymore either.

Then, he realized; he could only feel it if he was looking into the Mirror. So he half-closed his eyes and stared into her deep red hair as she kissed him ever so softly, and he drank her in, savoring all the love in each second she still kissed him. Lifting a hand, he could feel her neck as well, and caressed it with all the longing he had. His other hand wrapped around her waist that was not really there, but he felt it nevertheless. As long as he held it softly…

Slowly, she moved her lips away from his, and he felt strangely calm.

"Lily…" he breathed softly. "I love you." The tears were still flowing, but now much slower than before. They soon stopped, and all that remained were the droplets hardly yet formed in the corners of his eyes. She had stopped crying as well, and smiled sweetly at him. Nodding slowly, her startlingly green eyes glowed at him as she tilted her head and gave him a wondering smirk.

It was one that he saw so often on Vesperra, and he suddenly realized why he loved it so much. Lily had always smirked like that when she was thinking of something clever or when he had done something adorable in his Snape-esque way. _Vesperra…_ Lily knew. She always knew. And he was suddenly fully aware that this was a vision of the Mirror, not the real Lily. But somehow, she must still know. Whether that was the magic of the Mirror or if Lily's spirit had traveled from Beyond to him, he didn't know, but he was sure that she was telling him something through that look in her eyes…

It was Christmas Eve. He and Vesperra hadn't spoken in person, let alone spent time together, in weeks. Part of him was even aware that Quirrell could very well be learning how to get past the three-headed dog right that second, but that part didn't even care. All he cared about at that moment were Lily and Vesperra.

Finally, he stared straight into her green eyes and grinned, this time of pure happiness− no sorrow or desperation− then tore his gaze from the Mirror. Running as fast as he could back down to the ground floor and then down into the dungeons, he reached his room. All in a few seconds, Snape pulled his journal out from inside his pillow, grabbed a quill, and dipped it in an open ink bottle. _One dip should be enough…_ At that, he promptly left again.

While walking, he put the handle of the quill in between his teeth to hold while he opened the latch of the book and flipped to an empty page. Once he did, he held the journal by its spine in his left hand and took his quill in the other. Handwriting surprisingly neat for how hastily it was scrawled, he simply wrote;

_I'm outside the Common Room. Come now. _

And he slashed the corner.

* * *

Hardly three minutes later, the stone door concealed in the wall slid open, not fast enough, and Vesperra leapt out, excited out of her mind.

_Finally…_ Professor Snape was only about a foot away from her, as he had been waiting very close to the Common Room entrance. She barely had time to smile at him before he grabbed her by the wrist and was already off. Vesperra's feet were still stuck on the ground when her body was pulled forward, but she moved them quickly to catch up.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly, though not really caring where they went as long as she was with him.

"You'll see." said Snape, turning to give her a smile that he hoped could make up for the weeks he had hardly any time to look her in the eye for too long.

As he led her up their first flight of stairs, he loosened his grip on her wrist and slid his hand down to hold her hand instead. She responded with a welcoming squeeze, and he squeezed back.

It felt so nice to finally have Professor Snape hold her hand again… Vesperra wrapped her fingers tight around his, for she never wanted to let go. Trusting him not to guide her into a wall, she stared only at his face for the next few corridors through which they glided. His hair was still stuck to it with sweat like she had seen it the past few nights, but rather than looking stressed, his expression was confident and genuinely happy, but almost in a sad way. As for his hair, though, it looked sort of frayed and choppy near the roots…

"Sir, have you been… pulling your hair out?" she asked incredulously, frowning.

He frowned too. "Yes, I suppose I have… But don't worry about that now, I was just… really frustrated when I did."

Vesperra couldn't help but continue to worry about him and whether he could even stay mentally stable enough to follow through with everything, if he was pulling his hair out… but relaxed when he gave her hand another calming squeeze.

After another few minutes, Professor Snape abruptly stopped in front of a door in the fifth floor corridor that she had never entered before. As she stared at him, confused, he stared back with a hopeful smile and pushed the door open.

It seemed to be an empty classroom, except there was a magnificent mirror propped up against the wall opposite them. Mesmerized, she tried to look into it from where she was standing, but saw no reflection whatsoever.

Snape noticed her initial curiosity, and led her forward to the Mirror. He wondered whether he should tell her what it was before allowing her to see her desires in it, but thought it better to let it be a surprise. Finally, they were feet from it, but he knew Vesperra would still see nothing, because she had to see it alone. Reluctantly letting go of her hand, he grabbed her shoulders, and placed her dead center in front of the Mirror so she could look into it properly.

The sudden emptiness she felt when he let go of her hand disappeared just as suddenly, because when she turned her gaze from him to the mirror, she didn't just see herself. On one side of her were her Mum and Dad, and they actually looked happy. His father held her mother's waist lovingly and she had one arm around his neck. She looked down at Vesperra, smiling like a mother should, unlike the expressions she had ever actually seen her make. On the other, Professor Snape was kneeling down so they were at eye level, and had his arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace just like her Dad had her Mum. He looked at her from the mirror's vision with an expression of pure happiness and love− friendly love. She didn't think it was supposed to be romantic, because she wasn't sure if that's what she even wanted. But whatever it was, it conveyed that he cared about her more than anything else.

Back in reality, she realized that she was still looking into a mirror. Vesperra glanced at both of her sides, and there was nothing there. And looking over her shoulder, she saw Professor Snape no less than ten feet behind her. _Then why did I feel and see him right here, holding me…?_

Snape watched as Vesperra's confused expression turned shocked, and then manically happy. Her eyes darted back and forth across the Mirror hungrily, and he doubted she even realized it. Leaving her to ask about it on her own, he went to stand behind her. He also noticed her put a hand out and clutch air, then look to each side, only to discover what the mirror showed wasn't real. Then, she looked back at him, and she looked even more confused. Returning her gaze to the Mirror, she stepped toward it.

Vesperra knew this must be an enchanted mirror, and that whatever it was showing her wasn't real. Nevertheless, she loved and craved what she saw, and didn't want to look away. If she kept her gaze on it, she could feel Professor Snape hugging her… otherwise, she couldn't. She was addicted to it, addicted to the happiness she felt as she saw her parents happy, not fighting, and seeming to actually love her…

Curiosity burned inside her, though. Forcing her eyes away, she turned back to the real Professor Snape. "What is this thing?"

He'd been waiting for her to ask… "That, Vesperra, is the Mirror of Erised. It shows you the deepest desires of your heart. I thought I should bring you here… You and I could both use some happiness what with all that's been going on." His voice trailed off as he stared into her eyes, which were drawn like a magnet back towards the mirror.

As she reached out to touch the Mirror, hoping to feel the cloth of Professor Snape's robes that draped over his arm, she disappointedly felt the cold glass instead._ So this is what I desire most? Just… for my parents to quit fighting and care about me, but still leave me alone… and for Professor Snape to be this close to me?_

"I think it's important that you know what you desire the most, because a lot of people really don't." Snape continued. "And you can't go through life not knowing what that thing is, or you could make a horrible mistake." It was only as he said these words that he realized how true they were, and how different his life would have been if he had been sure that he wanted Lily's love more than he wanted power back when the choice was being made in the first place. He felt sad, but kept himself from crying. At least he could make sure Vesperra didn't make the same mistake…

"Well… I know now." said Vesperra with almost a laugh. It did make her happy… so happy. Especially since she knew that even if she and Professor Snape weren't quite close enough yet to embrace like _that_, they would be someday. And sure, he didn't set aside everything else and make her his top priority, but she was sure he had his reasons− she didn't expect him to, anyway. As for her parents, she really did wish they could just be happy together… but she'd rather they weren't over-protective. She was already independent, and didn't need them to hover over her like Malfoy's did for him. Besides, that would never happen anyway, so why hope?

But it wasn't so easy to give up a hope like that when you were staring it in the face. Without warning, she felt someone grasp her hand, and the fake vision in the Mirror dissolved to reveal the real Professor Snape, who was now guiding her away from it.

"Vesperra, I think we should go. It's not safe to stay in front of that thing for too long… and if someone's not here to help you get away, it's likely to draw you in until you refuse to leave, and just waste away in front of it…"

That wasn't difficult for her to understand, as she wasn't so consumed by fantasies that she couldn't see what would really happen to her. Nodding solemnly, she began to leave with him.

If Lily hadn't conveyed that exact message to him, he probably would have broken down in front of the Mirror and completely forgotten about the rest of the world. It was amazing to see her in front of him after all this time, as real as possible what with her being dead right now, but there was life to be lived… And he was living it for her.

"I suppose this is my Christmas present, isn't it?" Vesperra said unexpectedly, triggering a sonic boom in Snape's head. Tomorrow was Christmas, and he had _completely_ forgotten about the whole 'presents' thing.

"_Bloody_ hell, Vesperra−" He stopped and knelt down to face her, still holding one hand. "I haven't even though about it… If I hadn't found this tonight… I wish I had gotten you a real present−"

"It's fine, really… I would never expect you to remember. But it doesn't matter, because this is better than anything else you could've given me… I'm not much for material things anyway. I _was_ thinking about it, though, and… Well, just ignore the card that shows up in your room tomorrow. Do you know about the Room of Requirement?"

"The what?"

That was enough for Vesperra− she tugged on his hand and told him to stand back up. "You'll see."

Now, Snape was in her previous position, wondering where they were going, but not really caring, and excited all the same. At last, she stopped in the middle of the seventh floor corridor.

"Now stay here for second." she told him, and walked towards an empty wall. There was no door there…

"What are you−?"

"Just hold on." Vesperra began pacing past the wall, and on her third time across, a door appeared. Snape didn't see it at first, but noticed it a few moments later. Thinking he was going crazy, he blinked rapidly and stared at it, dumbstruck. But Vesperra obviously saw it too, because she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. She led him through the door and closed it behind them, at which he could only gape at the magnificent room.

It was enormous… Bookshelves lined the walls, and the ceiling was draped in Slytherin colors. There were a few cages over by one corner, but he neither wondered nor cared what was in them.

"How−?"

"It's the Room of Requirement." Vesperra answered before he could ask. "It becomes whatever you need it to be… And lately, I've needed a place to relax. I think you do, too." She watched in amusement as Professor Snape took slow, heavy steps around the room, staring up at the high ceiling and all around at the bookshelves. "All you have to do is walk by that wall three times and think about what you want. I suppose it'll create anything you need. Although, no matter how much I ask, it doesn't create food…"

"Well, food's one of the three exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration." he muttered out of habit, reciting it word for word from a passage in a textbook he remembered reading many times before.

"Oh… That makes sense… Well?"

"It's amazing."

"And I figured it might be useful in catching Quirrell. I mean, it can supply anything− except food. But I don't think life is an issue, because there's live snakes in here."

That woke up his senses and brought him back into reality. "Snakes?" he asked breathily, slowly spinning around to face her.

"You were busy and I needed someone to talk to. I wouldn't set them on anyone, if that's what you're thinking." said Vesperra in a would-be casual tone.

_Oh, God…_ Snape dropped to his knees again, grabbed her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. "I'm so sorry, Vesperra… Thank you, for this. And thank you for not being angry with me."  
"How could I be?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were. I'm supposed to be your friend, and I won't even set aside a few hours to spend with you every once in a while…"

"Because you can't! Don't blame yourself, I can get along fine. It's just hard sometimes."

After searching her eyes for any sign of doubt or suppressed sadness and finding nothing but sincerity, he exhaled. And then he hugged her.

"Happy Christmas." he whispered huskily. Vesperra was surprised by the hug, and even more by the fact that he didn't let go after a couple seconds. Hugging him back, she welcomed it as a much better present than the Mirror.

"Happy Christmas." she replied, still not pulling away from the hug. Suddenly, her shoulder felt wet, and she realized that he was crying into it. And she started crying too.

Snape wasn't sure why he was crying, but he didn't care. He just wanted Vesperra to know how thankful he was to have her in his life, because he didn't know how miserable he might have been if he never met her. Finally he pulled away, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. She was crying too… So before she could dry her eyes, he did it for her.

They both steadied their heartbeat and evened their breathing, then casually looked around. Vesperra was the first to say something.

"I think it's almost midnight."  
"Yeah… it is. You don't suppose… we could just sleep in here?"

She was hoping he'd say that. _We need beds…_ And without any sort of noise or flash of light, two hammocks appeared, strung from the ceiling.

"Oh, how convenient." she said, walking over to a hammock and kicking off her shoes. Snape chuckled and followed her, getting comfortable in the larger one. He intertwined his fingers and held them behind his head for a pillow-like support.

Turning to her, he noticed that she was having trouble laying straight. "Never slept in a hammock before?"

"And you have?" she asked, her voice returning to its usual cold bitterness.

_Now that sounds like Vesperra to me… _he thought contentedly. Though he loved it when she let herself smile, and not in the way that scared him, he knew what to expect with her normal attitude. While trying to find a comfortable position, she nearly fell off, and it was lucky he acted so quickly.

"You okay?" he asked, catching the swaying hammock with one hand and her waist with the other, them setting them straight. She nodded, and looked relieved to finally be lying properly. "And yes, I have, actually." It was a good thing she didn't ask when and where, because once again, he'd feel compelled to tell her all about Lily. So many years ago, he had camped out on hammocks with her… And the way he remembered it, they often fell asleep holding hands.

That night wasn't a good night to tell her, either. It was Christmas, for Merlin's sake… Christmas was the time for telling children's stories, not tragedies. Not that he was going to tell her children's stories, anyway.

"G'Night." said Vesperra tiredly, her yawn turning into a smile.

"Night, Vesperra." Her yawn was contagious, and he was twice as tired as he had been a moment before. Just for the sake of doing so, he reached out a hand towards her, and she reached out her own to grab it. Their arms hung in between the two hammocks as they drifted off into sleep, his just barely grasping hers in between his thumb and forefinger. Curling her tiny fingers around his, she made sure they wouldn't slowly move apart in the middle of the night.

Though their eyes were closed and their breathing as relaxed as possible, neither of them actually fell asleep for a good ten minutes. They couldn't help but wonder what the other saw in the Mirror of Erised, and they both knew they other must be wondering that as well.

_I guess it would make a lot of sense for me to want to be loved… so he probably already knows. And the other part's already true, isn't it? He hugged me just now… But that was the first time he really hugged me… Still, he definitely knows I want more than anything for him to not have to put up with this Quirrell crap. Mine and his happiness… that's all I want. But what does he see? Maybe he sees the same thing… I know he hates this just as much as I do, so he probably sees himself finally getting Quirrell. Or killing him. Or alone with me…_

The more tired he grew, the tighter Snape tried to hold her hand. _She couldn't possibly guess what I see in the Mirror… and I'm not going to tell her. She's not going to ask, anyway… That's too personal of a question. I can't ask her, either… But what could Vesperra desire most? To have friends? No, she prefers being by herself… she just wants everyone to leave her alone. But that's just because she knows no one could ever understand her enough to want to be her friend… except me. That's right, she's got me. And I'm enough, aren't I? She wouldn't want more friends… Maybe she sees her parents caring about her. Yeah, probably…_

* * *

Vesperra slept in later than normal, since they were up so late last night. It didn't even register to her that it was Christmas morning until she noticed a couple small parcels at the foot of their hammocks. Sliding out of her hammock, she realized that Professor Snape was still holding her hand, though his grip had loosened somewhat overnight. Not letting go, she stood up, pulling his limp arm up with her.

He was still asleep, his hair messily falling over his face, and some into his slightly open mouth. Using her free hand, she brushed the few strands away from his mouth and back behind his neck. She always hated when she woke up nearly choking on her own hair… Noticing that he was drooling a little, she smiled. Then, she bent over to examine the roots, where she had noticed it was so choppy the night before.

Feeling the area lightly with her fingertips, she cringed. "I can't believe you've been pulling your hair out…" she whispered.

"And I said not to worry about it." Professor Snape muttered, startling her.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A while." Vesperra squinted her eyes at him, and he smirked.

"So you've been awake whole time?"

"It's likely."  
Hitting him somewhat softly with the back of her hand, she smirked back. "You really should do something about that, though. And touch your hair as little as possible, from now on."  
"I know…" he yawned, stretching as he sat up. Finding his wand in his robe pocket, he pointed it at his head and muttered a few words. The short hairs that had been ripped from Snape's stress-pulling grew rapidly, and no longer stuck straight out. When it was put right, he stuffed his wand back into his robes and stood up. "We have presents."

"I noticed." Together, they shuffled to their individual piles, both of which were very small. "Wait, but how were they delivered to us if we're in here?"

Snape shrugged. "That's just the magic of the school, I guess. Explain how owls know where to deliver just by being given the name."  
Shrugging in response as well, Vesperra started to sit down, and Professor Snape sat with her. Allowing their hands to part, they examined their parcels.

"Well, here's yours." said Snape, reading a note he had just opened. "'_Professor Snape, I don't care whether or not you have a present for me, but I have one for you. Its necessary I give it to you in person, so when you're done with your nightly Quirrell watch, tell me, and I'll be at your office immediately. I don't care if you think it's dangerous, and you can't talk me out of it. It's Christmas, and I refuse to let you have a sad on_e. _Yours, Vesperra_.' Stubborn as usual, I see…" _But still the sweet touch at the end._ "It's a good thing I ended up coming for you a night early, huh?"

"It really is."

Vesperra saw that she had only one package, and it was from her mother. Peeling off the paper, she found an envelope and a small, square box. She opened the envelope and read aloud, "'_Your father didn't get you anything, because he didn't want anything to do with Hogwarts or magic. But I found my old ring, which is the only thing I inherited from the Lestranges. Well, I stole it from my sister. But I guess that's what I get for marrying a Muggle− they don't want anything to do with me. I don't have any use for it, so you can have it. Happy Christmas. − Mum._'"

Opening the box, she pulled out a gold ring, which had a prestigious-looking cursive _L_ emblazoned on the widest part of it in tiny green stones. Snape watched her as she examined it, a bit nervous.

"May I see it?" She nodded, and handed it over to him. He held it close to his eyes, staring at the Lestrange _L_ timidly. Then, just in case, he pulled out his wand again and waved it over the ring. "_Specialis Revelio_." Nothing happened, but he was only slightly less worried. He cast more spells to check for enchantments, and still nothing. Defeated, he rolled it over in his palm.

"I doubt my Mum would send me a cursed ring…" Vesperra snorted, amused at how over-protective he was.

"She might not have known it was cursed. If they pretty much shunned her from the family once she married a Muggle, I thought there might be curse on it that would be triggered if anyone with any Muggle blood put it on." Part of him wanted to keep the ring away from her, for it was a mark of one of the many pure-blood families he now hated. Rodolphus and Bellatrix had been the most loyal followers of the man who killed the woman he loved… But Vesperra didn't seem to be aware that they were Death Eaters at all. And if he told her not to keep the ring, he'd have to explain why, which he just couldn't do.

_What if someone saw her wearing it and discovered she was a Lestrange? Well, maybe they'd respect her more. Everyone knows Malfoy's father was really close to Voldemort, and they all like him. Well, just the Slytherins. Except for Vesperra. But being related to an ex-Death Eater can't hurt her reputation any further than it already is… _

Making the only reasonable choice, he took her left hand and slid the ring onto her middle finger. It surprisingly fit well, but then he remembered how the Lestranges were known for their slender fingers. _I wonder what she would do if she knew she was closely related to Malfoy… _

"Thanks." she said, seeing how the ring looked on her finger. After a few moments of consideration, she eyed Professor Snape's packages. "Who are those from?"

Looking through them, he immediately ripped one open and scowled. "Fred and George Weasley. They gave me Shampoo." he said disgustedly, and set it aside. "They've done that each of the three years they've been here. I suppose a lot of other students would like to do the same, but aren't quite as brave enough. They'll be getting a week's detention with Filch…"

"They were stupid enough to put who it was from?"  
"No, but I know it was them."

Vesperra looked down at her ring again, and absentmindedly touched her hair. "I'm surprised no one sent me any…"

"They're too afraid you'll hex them into the ground. Now…" reading the name on the other one, his eyes widened. "This one's from Dumbledore." Gripping the edges of the lid with his fingertips, he pulled it off to reveal the glint of silver under a parchment note. "Oh look, more jewelry… It just says, '_You're doing well_.' He's always been pretty subtle…"

"There's two of them." Vesperra pointed out. Indeed, there were two. Lifting each one up separately, they saw that one was a silver _V_ and the other an _S_. "Vesperra and Severus… Does he know−?"

"About us being so close? Apparently, yes. I don't know how he does it, but he just knows these things."  
"Well, it's nice of him. Doesn't make up for forcing you to do all that on your own, though."

"No, it doesn't… Here." Snape took the chain of the one with the _S_ and put it around her neck, then put the other on himself. "Shall we get breakfast?"

"Sure." Getting to their feet, they left the Room of Requirement, and tucked their necklaces inside their robes as they did.

* * *

After breakfast, Snape noticed Dumbledore walk off with Quirrell, deep in conversation about the Muggle sweets he had taken a liking to, then look back at him and wink. He wouldn't have to abandon Vesperra on Christmas after all… Guessing this was an extra Christmas present from Dumbledore, he made a mental note to thank him later.

And he did so at the beginning of the Christmas Feast, just before it got too loud to hear each other. The eccentric old man had taken off his usual pointed hat and exchanged it for a flowered bonnet he got from a wizard cracker, and smiled serenely at his thanks. Turning his attention away from Snape, he chuckled at a joke Flitwick read him.

All the noise rather annoyed him, and he wished he could sit near Vesperra for the feast, who seemed to wish the same, by the look in her eyes. When he had his full, he began to leave the Staff Table, to the dismay of a few drunken teachers.

"Yer such a spoil sport, Snape!" said Hagrid with a slur. "C'mon, it's Chris'mas!" Ignoring his and the other teacher's pleads, he left, and eyed Vesperra on his way out.

* * *

Vesperra was extremely glad to hear that she wouldn't have to spend the rest of Christmas alone, like she had expected. Rather than having snowball fights like most of the students that were staying, she and Professor Snape spent the day in the Room of Requirement. He had changed it to his liking, which wasn't all too different, except it had a Foe-Glass. Apparently, if Quirrell had escaped Dumbledore's company and went after the thing he was trying to steal, he would have known just by looking into it.

"It's dead useful… Too bad I can't take it out of here." he had said. "But now I can just go about doing my nightly patrols and checking this once or twice a day… It's still a lot of work, but a lot less stress."

Glad about her decision to show him the Room of Requirement, she gave his hand a squeeze. For most of the day, they skimmed through the vast shelves of books that the Room had supplied, played Wizard's Chess (which they had been evenly matched at), and just talked. Vesperra had become temporarily addicted to fiddling with the _S_ on her new necklace, but forced herself to stop, for all hell would break loose if anyone saw her necklace at all.

They parted ways only at lunch and dinner, at which Vesperra noticed he was much calmer than usual. However, he became pretty tense once the Christmas Feast started. There were wizard crackers going off left and right, creating cannon-like blasts and puffs of blue smoke everywhere. Luckily, though, she didn't have to choke on any smoke, because Theodore Nott seemed just as unwilling to touch one as she was.

Most of the teachers, save Professor Snape, seemed drunk. Dumbledore looked stranger than ever wearing a flowered bonnet, McGonagall had lost her strict visage and let Hagrid kiss her on the cheek, but Quirrell flinched like someone just said You-Know-Who's name every time a wizard cracker went off. But she really only cared about one person up at the High Table, and that was the Potions Master with long, black hair whose eye twitched in annoyance every few minutes. She thought it would be the perfect end to this day if she could just sit with him, but they couldn't risk people seeing that.

As much as the excitement annoyed her, she couldn't help but love the food. She had never seen so much food in her life− there were mountains of mashed potatoes and bowls of cranberry sauce the size of dragon eggs. When the puddings appeared to replace the turkey, she was already full. Deciding on a single treacle tart, she found a Sickle embedded in a slice. Slytherin greed taking over, she started breaking apart more and collecting all the money she found.

Suddenly, Professor Snape left the Staff Table and, right as he reached the doorway, gave her the '_Come here'_ look. Pocketing her pile of Sickles and Knuts, she left the Great Hall. Exiting the direction he had, she approached him with a wondering look.

* * *

"I don't think Dumbledore is going to let me have the night off, so you'll have to wait until later tonight to talk to me again." At her somewhat sad look, he was about to kneel down again, but decided against it, just in case anyone left the Great Hall and saw them. "Listen, _this _day has been the best Christmas I've ever had. But I have a huge feeling that Quirrell will try tonight."  
"I understand. It's fine."  
"And you also understand that it's not safe for you to walk around alone when Quirrell could be lurking around anywhere…?"

"Of course."

"He nodded in satisfaction, and squeezed her shoulder. "Good. Now go back to your dorm. And− Happy Christmas… again."

"You too." she replied, already walking off.

* * *

Snape waited near the room with the three-headed dog for a while, but Quirrell didn't show up. So he took to patrolling the corridors, listening for the sound of other footsteps. _Maybe I was wrong…_ On the fifth floor, he passed the room that he now knew held the Mirror of Erised. Wise enough never to go in there again, he kept on moving.

Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps in the distance grew louder, and he drew out his wand, braced for whatever he'd meet, even though he already had a pretty good idea…

His idea was completely wrong. It was Filch running towards him, panting and carrying a broken lamp, which he shoved in Snape's face. At first, he was wondering how the hell the man knew exactly where he was, but immediately realized Mrs. Norris must have tipped him off.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering out at night, and somebody's been in the library− Restricted Section."

Worried about what information Quirrell might want from the Restricted Section,− _How to get past that beast, perhaps?_− Snape had already started walking with Filch back down the way he had came… through that narrow corridor and towards the library.

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

This would be the second best Christmas present ever, the first having been Vesperra showing him the Room of Requirement, to finally catch Quirrell. Not giving a single glance to the room with the Mirror as they strode past it, he continued to listen for the shuffling of feet and the rustling of robes other than his own.

Their search proved fruitless, and Snape became extremely frustrated. Resisting the urge to pull his hair out, he said bitterly, "You keep on the lookout, Filch. I'm going to bed."

"Will do, Professor."

After his conversation with Vesperra that night, he decided not to let one failure get to him. Thinking about it rationally, _if Quirrell had been simply looking for information that night, he can't have been that much closer to getting past the dog. And it might not have been Quirrell at all… It definitely could have been a student. Whoever they were, they sure had escaped quickly…_ _Probably Fred and George Weasley. I'll add another week to their detention after break._

At that, he changed into his nightclothes and slept off the both wonderful and hectic Christmas Day.

* * *

**Are you glad Snape and Vesperra had a nice Christmas? I am. They both deserve one, with how horrible their lives have been. And I really hate Dumbledore for refusing to give Snape a straight answer. That old dingbat... He's just using him. Also, I was really excited to write Fred and George into the story! I mean, come one, even as someone as cold-hearted as Vesperra can't hate them completely... they're just too awesome. **

**I will give you a hint that I used some foreshadowing here... Can you guess what it is? Please review and tell me if you think you know, or just tell me what you think of the story. I just want some more reviews.**

**In the next chapter: Snape refs a Quidditch Game, Snape confronts Quirrel, Snape's birthday, and a lot of bad Hufflepuff jokes ;)**


	11. Book 1: Chapter 11

**Thanks for all your reviews! I hope this story gets to be popular... Anyway, in this chapter, I worked in an AVPM and a Doctor Who reference. ^_^ The AVPM one will be obvious, but tell me if you spot the Dr. Who reference! This isn't one my favorite chapters, but it has some important stuff in it. Like explanations for canon events. Oh, and there's a lot of Hufflepuff-bashing in this chapter, but remember- that's Snape and Vesperra's opinion, not mine. So don't get offended(because I know Huffies can be so emotional...).**

* * *

Things mostly returned to normal after the new term started. Professor Snape was less stressed with his routine now including the Room of Requirement, which was particularly helpful, and Vesperra was, in turn, much less depressed. Malfoy got a head start on the insults and torment the first Monday back, relishing what would make up for a whole two weeks of not being able to do so.

"My Father bought me a whole new set of Slytherin attire," he started at breakfast, gesturing to his robes. "He thought I should show some more House Pride… As if I already don't. So, what'd _you_ get for Christmas, Grease-perra?" All the heads turned to her, looking genuinely curious, yet wickedly happy at assuming they knew the answer already.

It wasn't any of their business what she got, and there was no way she'd tell them, anyway. No one could ever find out about her necklace… And as for the ring, however well it connected her to a Pureblood family, she knew they'd just turn it into some joke about how Professor Snape proposed to her or something.

"An entire two weeks without you, Malfoy." said Vesperra without looking up from her cereal. "It was the best I've ever gotten."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him flush with anger and humiliation, open his mouth as if to make a retort, but then close it again as he failed to think of one. Sitting back down, he only became redder as a couple fourth year Gryffindors turned their heads and laughed from the next table over. At the Slytherin table, Pansy seemed infuriated with her, but Crabbe and Goyle were too busy stuffing their faces to take in anything that was said, and a couple others seemed to hide grins as they hastily looked down at their plates.

Like she guessed, Seamus and Dean were no longer too afraid to tease her in the halls or during classes. Not even in Potions class− they just made sure Professor Snape wasn't looking.

In the middle of their first week back, Professor Snape had been busy torturing Potter, and she had been glancing up from her cauldron to watch ever few seconds. Nudging Dean, Seamus squinted comically at the board, and observed just loud enough for the few surrounding people to hear, "Armadillo bile… Maybe we can get some from D'Monicas's hair…" At least they hadn't heard her nickname yet.

Most of the comments from them were about her hair, her nose, her constantly angry expression. The usual. It was nothing she couldn't handle… _If they actually want to be hurtful, they're going to have to try a lot harder than that._

During that week, she gathered from her nightly conversations with Professor Snape that he had a lot more time for himself now, but still had to use that for his actual teacher duties. With all her new homework, she wouldn't have had much time to spend with him, anyway.

With the stress down to a minimum and the memory of humiliating Malfoy still fresh in her mind, Vesperra felt like the term was off to a good start. On Thursday evening as she left the library to return to her dorm, she stopped at the corner of a corridor containing Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and Neville Longbottom, but was otherwise empty. The latter didn't seem to notice the other, and had just bent down to scoop together a pile of scattered papers he had dropped.

"Well, well, well… If it isn't the fat, clumsy oaf. I've been looking for you, Longbottom."

Neville stood up to face him, but was shaking and going red in the face. "W-why?" he choked out in the tiniest of voices.

"To practice on, of course… Wow− a coward, and dumb, too! How is it you're even a Gryffindor?" And without even giving him time to answer, Malfoy pointed his wand and said, "_Locomotor mortis_," locking Neville's legs together like a magical adhesive. Losing his balance, he fell over.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle promptly sauntered away from the scene, laughing in triumph. As they grew farther and farther away, Vesperra heard them finally stop laughing and the wicked voice say, "I'm bored. We should go find Potter."

The other boy was still struggling to stand up with only the limited aid of his legs, but finally did. Not bothering to try and gather the mess of papers, he left them abandoned on the floor and bunny-hopped away. Feeling absolutely no sympathy, she left the scene herself, glad Malfoy hadn't found her instead of Longbottom.

* * *

Now that Snape had the Foe-Glass to check on, Quirrell-hunting time was a much easier part of his routine. Every day, made a trip to the Room of Requirement before breakfast, during Lunch break, and after dinner to look into it, so he would know any time that Quirrell was planning something nefarious. Then, he'd go about his nightly patrolling of the corridors, which were shorter than they used to be.

It was repetitive, but it was the safe way to go about it. And he slept a lot better at night knowing that the Stone was perfectly safe and that Quirrell hadn't even gone after it that night. At that, he smacked himself on the forehead. _Of course he hasn't been trying every bloody night… If I only had this thing before, then I wouldn't have wasted all that time!_

Only one night the first week of term did he catch anything significantly suspicious… It was foggy, but there was no deciphering to be done in the images. He had seen a few different things in brief flashes at a time; Quirrell followed Potter down the corridor with a mad look in his eye… A great, ferocious head of a dog which, he knew, was one of three, was in front of Quirrell, but there was no vision afterward of the man being torn to pieces, but not one of him fleeing the room, either…

_Just Great._ If Potter was in more danger than before, now, he'd have to take drastic measures. Well, he wouldn't call turning Potions class into daily torturing sessions for Potter _drastic_. That kid was just so… so incompetent. And inattentive. And disrespectful. And _so_ much like his father. It wasn't too hard to be so horrible to him. And it was really just a side-affect of the plan, anyway.

Oh, how annoying it was to be working so hard to protect a boy that he didn't even like… The worst part was, he didn't even question it. He never stopped while he was following the kid as a guard during any free moments he had to think, _Hey, this kid is the bane of my existence. So why the bloody hell am I saving his life?_

But that was because he didn't need to question it. Snape knew the answer to that by heart. Well, it really was only one word… And yet, so much more than just a word. _Lily._

Soon, Potter seemed to notice that he was seeing Snape at every turn, so he thought to be more discreet. That was difficult, though, because the boy never went anywhere alone, and he couldn't just trail behind him. The surrounding people would still see, and that would be even more suspicious_. No, dammit… he can't know I'm following him. Then he'll fear me even more, so he'll start avoiding me and that'll only make my job harder._

So sure it would be a while before he spent any real time with Vesperra again, it was a pleasant surprise when he actually had some over the weekend.

* * *

Saturday morning, Vesperra's first thought when she awoke was to go to the Room of Requirement, like she had been doing all break._ No… Wait, but I finished all my homework already. And I have nothing else to do. Why can't I? _So after breakfast, she went back to her dorm for a minute to grab her journal and stuff it in her robes, then headed straight to the seventh floor corridor.

Lucky to meet no one on her way there, she willed it to become the room she could relax in, and a door appeared. When she walked in, she was half-surprised to see someone already in there.

"Professor," she greeted, walking towards the man leaning back onto a chair, staring at a mirror-like object on the wall in front of him.

Tearing his eyes from the Foe-Glass for the first time in several minutes, he saw Vesperra walking towards him eagerly, and he sat up straighter. Quirrell had only appeared in flashes lately, so it didn't think it too dangerous to look away for a minute or two.

"Vesperra… What brings you here?" _Could she have information for me… Important enough it couldn't wait?_

"Just thought I could relax in here… Sorry, did I interrupt you? Was it showing something important?" _I should have known he'd be busy in here…_ "I should leave." As she turned to go back through the wooden door, his voice called her back.

"Wait− no, you don't have to leave. I haven't seen anything worth knowing on this thing in a few days… Come sit down." He was about to pat a seat next to him, when he realized there wasn't one. And by the look in Vesperra's eyes, she seemed to be wondering, _Where, in your lap?_ She didn't seem unwilling, though…

Promptly pointing his wand at another chair in a different corner of the room, he caused it to hover a foot above the floor and glide across until it was next to his, then drop. Somewhat disappointed she didn't get to sit in his lap, she climbed onto the chair and sank into it. It was much larger than her, and she felt even more miniscule in comparison as she sat in it.

"You know, this is probably the most comfortable chair I've ever sat in." he mentioned, noticing her get comfortable. "This room is amazing."

"It's a good thing I discovered it and showed you, then, or else we'd still be stuck in the same circle of stress."

Exhaling, he rested his head against the chair, looking intently into the Foe-Glass for a moment. Yes, it was such a good thing. There were no more days of unfathomable stress, no more pulling his hair out, and no more nights where he began crying in frustration and had to read over Lily's last message a hundred times before he calmed down.

"Speaking of which, Vesperra, how _did_ you discover this Room?" He couldn't believe the thought only just crossed his mind. If he hadn't known about it until Vesperra told him, then he doubted any other teachers did. This was one of those secrets of Hogwarts that few must have had the luck to discover… But how did _she_ come across it?

Careful not to let her expression falter, her mind raced. How had she found out about it? Oh, that's right, she needed a room to practice curses on animals so she could later use one on Draco Malfoy. What a good story to tell Professor Snape, especially after all the time that had passed since it happened, and her promising him she was only getting that book for knowledge of Defense.

A lie only spawns more lies… And until the truth was revealed, she'd just have to keep coming up with more lies to cover up the first one. But as everyone knew, she didn't live by many morals. She tortured animals and _enjoyed_ it, for Merlin's sake… Still, it was difficult to lie to Professor Snape. It hurt her to lie straight to his face… He wouldn't lie to her, would he?

"At the start of the Holidays, I needed someplace to go, since you were so busy… so I started wandering the halls, and ended up here. The room appeared, and I came here every day until after term started."

Remembering how he had to spend all that time chasing after Quirrell and leaving her on her own to just sit around and be depressed, he accepted her explanation and turned to her. "I'm still sorry."

_Oh, Merlin…_ now she had made him sorry with a lie. It was Vesperra who should feel sorry, and she did. Technically, though, it wasn't a lie. She hadn't said a thing that wasn't true. Sure, it didn't _really_ answer his question, but there was no way she could tell him the truth. It was scary to imagine what he would think of her then…

"And I still say it's fine." she assured him. "Besides, we'll have time together every weekend now, won't we? We can just sit here together and watch the Foe-Glass during the day and talk−"

"But I might have to leave at unexpected times, if I see something important… Wait a minute, this could work." Snape had the epiphany of all epiphanies, and he even stood up as his heart thudded with excitement and started pacing back and forth to help his thinking process.

"What could w−?" He silenced her by putting up a hand as he paced, looking down at the floor in deep thought and glancing at the Foe-Glass every few seconds.

"Yes… We can both come here after breakfast on weekends, watch this, and if anything significant appears, I'll leave and do whatever I can. Then you can stay here and continue watching it, and if you see anything important while I'm gone, write a message to me and tell me."

Hearing the excitement and realization in his voice, Vesperra became excited as well. It was such a cunning plan, worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself. "So you'll know what's going on every moment of the day− during the weekend, at least."

"You'll help me, then?" Snape found it somewhat hard to believe she was so eager to sit there all day, staring at a mirror.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

Exactly… why wouldn't she? Vesperra obviously didn't care if she was just staring at the Foe-Glass the whole time… They were friends, and that's what friends do for each other. Especially one that hates Quirrell just as much as he does. Then again, there was more to his duty than stopping Quirrell, and there was nothing she could do to help him with that. Well, not knowingly, at least. But she could always be there for him.

"I don't know… Just making sure." Sitting down, he decided to mention his next Protect Potter Crusade, minus the 'Protect Potter' part. "There's a Quidditch game next Saturday, you know."

"I know… Gryffindor verses Hufflepuff. But I don't think I'll go if it's just those two… I can't decide which of them are my least favorite House."

He fought the urge to laugh. It seemed weird all of a sudden that it was so easy to do so in front of anyone other than her. "If Gryffindor wins this match, they'll beat Slytherin in the House Championship, so I think you'll want to go and root for Hufflepuff. Merlin, never thought I'd say that…"

"What's the point in going if I know who's going to win already? When's the last time Hufflepuff won _anything_? They don't even have anything special about them, do they?" Vesperra had already grudgingly accepted that Gryffindor would win as far as Quidditch went, but wished she didn't have to.

"Don't be too quick to doubt a Hufflepuff's abilities…" He pulled a laughable face at Vesperra's disbelieving one. "Diggory can find the Snitch pretty fast."

"Okay, so they're good finders. What else?"

"Absolutely nothing…" Snape let his voice trail off, then initiated a change back to the original subject. "Well, you should come anyway, because I'm refereeing."

If Vesperra had been drinking anything, she would have spit it out and right into Professor Snape's face. "Really? Why?"

After the first Quidditch match when Quirrell nearly killed Potter, he knew he had to prevent something like that from happening again. If he was in the stands, there wasn't much he could do… So he arranged it with Madam Hooch earlier that week, who had agreed to let him referee the upcoming game. Especially since he saw those flashes of Quirrell in the Foe-Glass a few days prior, he knew it was likely Potter's life would be in danger again.

And once again, he was forced to lie to Vesperra, because telling her that he was protecting Potter would require an explanation _why_. It seemed that these situations were appearing more and more often lately… But he just couldn't tell her yet.

"Well, _you_ don't want Gryffindor to win, do you?"

Was she hearing what she thought she was hearing? Professor Snape… rigging the game? "You mean you're going to _make sure_ Hufflepuff wins?" asked Vesperra with an incredulous grin.

In fact, he might. Just because he was doing this to make sure Potter didn't die, that didn't mean he wanted Slytherin to win the House championship any less. "I can try… but it's more like, making sure Gryffindor loses. So Hufflepuff'll win by default."

That was good enough reason to go… It would be fun to watch Professor Snape make up any excuse to punish Gryffindor. "Will you be wearing green again?"

"No, I'll be wearing my usual black…" he answered, amused at how concerned she seemed about this. "Referees aren't allowed to wear House colors, anyway."

Soon enough, it was lunch time, and they took one last look at the Foe-Glass before walking out the door. Deciding that Vesperra would come back first and Snape would follow Quirrell wherever he was going after lunch, then come back, they went in different directions once on the ground floor so they could arrive at the Great Hall from separate entrances.

"We're like partners in crime…" Vesperra noted after agreeing to his plan. "Or, stopping crime."

Smirking at her comment, Snape stopped abruptly and spun to part with her as planned, but not before touching her had lightly and muttering, "See you later then, partner."

Neither of them saw anything important that day or the next, and were starting to get annoyed and suspicious at Quirrell's lack of activity. The man couldn't just be taking a break from attempting to get past the dog… Either he was still trying to find information on it, or−

"He must be planning something big soon." Vesperra said all of a sudden, after twenty silent minutes of them staring idly at the Foe-Glass.

Startled at her ominous tone, he turned to her slowly. "You think so, too?

"Well, if he hasn't put in time or effort for stealing the thing in a while, he must be using that time to plan something bigger. And he must be pretty confident that it'll work."

That was exactly what he had been thinking… "Great minds think alike, Vesperra." Snape rather liked having Vesperra help him with the whole Quirrell business now, even though he had been opposed to it before. He hadn't wanted to make her share the stress or put her in dangerous situations, but it was clear he hadn't been thinking rationally then.

Like she had told him time and time again, him being in such stress had been stressing her out a great deal as well. Now that she was able to be part of it and knew she was doing all that she could, she seemed much less tense. Spending time with him while doing it was just a bonus. And there was no danger in sitting and watching… Besides, she really was a great help. Vesperra actually contributed ideas and theories that he hadn't given thought to.

"You don't suppose the Foe-Glass is hardly showing us anything because Quirrell doesn't _know_ he's your enemy?" she had said Sunday evening, after another few hours of seeing absolutely nothing.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, maybe we were wrong about him planning something big. Maybe it's just because he's not planning against you specifically… And that's what this thing is supposed to show, isn't? I'm probably wrong, but I'm trying to think of everything…" Vesperra's voice trailed off as she watched Professor Snape stand up and walk over to the wall, then lean against it, getting a closer look at the Foe-Glass.

Examining it, for _what,_ he didn't know, he thought about what she had said. Perhaps the Foe-Glass wasn't entirely reliable… "Maybe."

* * *

Professor Snape wanted to escort her back to the Slytherin Common Room, just in case Quirrell was in the vicinity, but Vesperra refused. She didn't want to risk any of the other Slytherins seeing them walking together, especially not Malfoy. Agreeing that that would be extremely possible, he settled for leaving her once they reached the foot of the stairs on the first floor.

The next morning, she woke up somewhat disappointed that she wouldn't spend another full day watching out for Quirrell and sitting with Professor Snape. Nevertheless, she moved her unwilling limbs and went to take a shower. It was almost automatic; her morning shower and such were so routine that she could do it all without being completely conscious or having her eyes more than a sliver open.

That was the way she always made it to the bathroom when thoughts of Professor Snape and catching Quirrell had kept her awake late at night− half awake until the hot steam and water of a shower fully woke her up. Today, however, her eyes were opened by something much different.

As she stood in front of the mirror and began to unbutton her night shirt to reveal the silver _S_ of the necklace that Dumbledore had given her with a matching _V_ one to Professor Snape. She hadn't taken the necklace off at all since Christmas morning, not even when she slept or took a shower. The _S_ was glowing, but she didn't notice it at first in her half-asleep state.

Suddenly, she realized how bright the golden light from it really was, and blinked rapidly. _Bloody hell…_ With absolutely no idea why it was glowing, she grabbed the _S _and turned it around, frantically trying to come to a conclusion. It was warm, but not searing hot, like she expected. _Could it mean something good or bad…? _Still searching the necklace, her reflection in the mirror, and her surroundings with her eyes for an answer, Vesperra wondered if Professor Snape's was doing the same right now, and if he was going through this as well.

Finally, she took the whole thing off. Pulling the chain off her neck and untangling it from her still-unwashed hair, she was able to look at the _S_ much closer… And there it was. There, in tiny, carved writing on the back of the silver letter around the top curve was, _January 9__th_. Then, in the center of the bottom curve, was simply, _32_.

_Okay, so that's today's date… but what's so special about it? If Dumbledore did this to the necklace, that was pretty stupid. Saying what day it is doesn't bloody tell me why this thing is glowing. But wait− what about the '32'? What does that have to do with anything? But this must have something to do with Professor Snape, for it to happen on the necklace he gave both of us…_

_What could '32' mean? The number of weeks we've known each other… his age… No, he's 31− So he must have turned 32 today. It's his birthday! Dumbledore thinks of everything…_

As much as she hated that Dumbledore was having Professor Snape do all the work regarding Quirrell and frustrating him with vague answers about why he wasn't doing anything himself, Vesperra truly wanted to thank him. He was an insane old man, but he must have really cared.

That meant that the other necklace wasn't glowing− it would glow on her birthday, which wouldn't be until summer. Even though she now knew it was his birthday, she didn't feel bad for not getting him any sort of gift. Christmas had hardly been a couple weeks ago, anyway, and Vesperra had a feeling Professor Snape wouldn't want a present anyway.

Adults didn't really care about birthdays… To them, it was just another year closer to death. Everyone knew that, even Vesperra. And to someone as bitter and pessimistic as the Potions Master, it would only make him grumpier to hear it stated by someone that he was getting older. Then again, from what he had told her, he had never had a proper birthday as a child. What he'd _really_ like… would just be for someone as bitter and pessimistic to him to wish him a happy birthday.

Returning the necklace, which hadn't stopped glowing, to its rightful place around her neck, she finished her morning routine and made sure to keep it tucked inside her robes. At breakfast, she endured the usual insults, but hadn't paid much attention to them anyway, since she was thinking so much about what Professor Snape's birthdays as a child must have been like.

_Getting only one or two presents, but they're nothing more than impersonal cards or an old shirt they don't want anymore… The only reason your mother remembers it in the first place is because she went through so much pain the day she gave birth to you, and reminds you of it every ten minutes… You have no other person to share the day with, because anyone else that knows you doesn't give a damn… You're a year older, but you feel five years older… And even though everyday of your life is like that, you feel especially worse because you know it's supposed to be a good day, but it's not._

Vesperra imagined that should summarize what his birthdays were like… but knew she was describing herself pretty accurately as well. Except now, she'd expect a good birthday as long as she had a friend like him.

In her classes before lunch, which were Herbology and Charms, she tried her best to keep focus and save thinking about Professor Snape's birthday until Potions, but it was no use trying to get it off her mind. Of course, it didn't matter that much, because she could completely grasp what they were learning without implementing much effort.

While eating lunch, it crossed her mind that most children's birthdays involved cakes. As horrible as her parents were, they had at least given her some kind of treat on her birthday… usually just a cauldron cake, though. And while Professor Snape obviously wasn't a child, it felt appropriate. Besides, it would give him the sense of that feeling a child is supposed to get on their birthday that neither of them ever did.

Leaving lunch much earlier than she normally did and not caring if anyone became suspicious, she walked briskly and made sure she wasn't being followed. It was necessary to do it at this time, so she wouldn't run into any Hufflepuffs or Weasleys… Once Vesperra had successfully made it to the fruit portrait in the basement without being caught and tickled the pear, she was greeted by a sea of House Elves, most of them still scrubbing dishes as they ambushed her.

"Hey, hey− HEY." she raised her voice to silence them, and was satisfied with how well it worked. "I can't stay long, so I need a favor, and I need it fast." They all nodded at once, eyes tearing up with the prospect of being able to do her a favor. "I need a small chocolate cake− which I'm sure you already have loads of, right?" After seeing them all nod with glee again, she continued, "Okay, so can you put on one with green icing, 'Happy Birthday P- Severus'?"

Once again, they nodded, and multiple elves went running off in different directions. Proud of herself and anxious to give it to him later, Vesperra sat down in the chair one elf had brought her. For some reason, she couldn't get over how she nearly told them to put 'Happy Birthday Professor Snape' on the cake. Though that's what she called him, it just seemed weird to put that on a cake…

A couple minutes later, a House Elf ran forward to show her the cake for approval. Relieved, yet surprised that they actually knew how to spell, she took the cake with a "thanks." Before leaving, though, she asked, "Do you have a tin I could put this in?" And once again, they didn't disappoint her.

Hastily making her way out of the basement before any Hufflepuffs started shuffling in, she carefully placed the cake inside her bag, and headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. While copying down different ways to treat werewolf bites, she secretly hoped Quirrell would be attacked by a werewolf. The full moon _was_ coming up soon…

Vesperra spent the rest of the hour plotting Quirrell's death by tooth and claw right down to the last detail, so it wasn't until she made it to the dungeons that she remembered Professor Snape's birthday again.

* * *

Since the past few days were no where near as stressful as they had been before the Holidays, rather than feeling anxious for that day's classes to end so he could go spy on Quirrell, Snape wanted them to end because he simply hated kids. At first dreading the last class of the day as one last hour of torture before he could go follow Potter around (which seemed like bliss in comparison at that moment), he remembered it was the first year Slytherins. Naturally, that included Vesperra.

As she walked in and took her seat, he noticed an extra glint in her eye that he was sure no one else would have caught. It was like it was meant for him… but then, he was sure it only felt that way because no one else would pay that much attention to her.

Vesperra set her bag down carefully, just to make sure the cake didn't move around inside the tin too much. While getting out her cauldron, brass scales, and some phials from her bag, she wondered what potion they'd be working on that day, since they'd been getting a bit harder since term started.

Coincidentally, Professor Snape has assigned them to use various sources from their book to brew a potion that would treat bites. A couple of the other Slytherin girls− mostly Pansy− groaned at the prospect of more effort being required today. Flipping through her book, she figured one of the main reasons she was so good in Potions (aside from the fact that she was good in every other subject as well) was because she liked it so much. And that wasn't just because the Potions Master was her best friend. She loved how every different combination of ingredients and stirring and time to simmer would create something with different uses. And she loved how when she finished one, it felt much more accomplishing than when she learnt a new spell.

Learning spells was just memorization, focus, and a little practice. Potions, on the other hand, required you to know what ingredients do what and why they do that. You need to know how each of them affects each other, and how to balance if needed. It was so complex, and just what her brilliant mind needed to keep it from getting bored.

Vesperra looked through her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_, and as she expected, didn't find anything on giant, three-headed dog bites. There was, however, a section dedicated to bites. _Serpent bites, Doxy bites, Grindylow bites, Imp bites… Werewolf bites._ That last one seemed the most relevant, seeing as they all just learned about that, so she remained on that page and got to work.

Snape expected most of them to choose the potion for curing Doxy or Imp bites, since those were the easiest, which was saying something, considering they were still one of the most difficult things the first years had done yet. He was both anxious and suddenly dreading to see what Potter would come up with tomorrow for his… Making a mental note to be ready for explosions then, he began his usual prowl around the room.

The thing was about potions for curing or treating bites was that they actually weren't all that time-consuming… if you knew what you were doing. And Snape was right− as he checked to see the page that the students were on in their textbooks, he noticed the majority of them were on Doxy Bites. Crabbe and Goyle were having a lot of trouble with that, even though it was by far the easiest. Giving Malfoy the responsibility of helping his dunderhead friends, he moved on.

Tracey, Daphne, and Pansy had all gone with Imp Bites, presumably because they sounded harmless and easier to cure, but they were sorely mistaken and would have done better to choose Grindylows. Saving Vesperra for last, which was a long while from when he started, since he spent all that time criticizing everyone else's on the multiple places where they had gone wrong, he was partly shocked when he got to her, but mostly proud.

"Treating _Werewolf_ bites, Miss D'Monicas?" he observed a bit louder than he normally would have.

Vesperra was about halfway finished with her potion, which had been the most complex thing she had made yet. It was slightly more difficult than some of the things she'd done, but easy, nevertheless, if she just followed instructions… Now, here, she was stuck a moment, because the potion wasn't as deep a red as it was supposed to be at this stage. Wafting the smell from the lightly smoking cauldron towards her nose, she took in the smell. _Now that's the problem…_

The instructions specified that about halfway through, it should have a scent that stings your nostrils a bit when you smell it, but hers didn't. And of course, the ingredient that contributed that smell was the wolfsbane, which she had already added. Interrupting her train of thought, Professor Snape was behind her, practically announcing to the class what she'd been brewing.

Looking up briefly to acknowledge him, she made sure to fix the problem before it was ruined from simmering too long. _The book calls for fresh wolfsbane… but all the student cupboard has got is dried wolfsbane that's probably been sitting there a while… So it's probably not as potent as it needs to be. _

Snape stared in amazement at Vesperra's potion, which was nearly perfect. But he couldn't expect her, despite her genius, to get this as perfectly as she did everything else… The Werewolf bite Treating potion wasn't even on the curriculum until third year. And though she had obviously followed all the directions exactly, there was one small flaw, which he was sure she was attempting to fix by her expression of being in deep thought.

"Very well done, Miss D'Monicas… Twenty-five points to Slytherin." Glancing around to take in the other students' gaping expressions of raging jealousy, he continued towards them only, "_Werewolf_ bites… Really puts struggling at curing Doxy bites in perspective." They only seethed at Vesperra in worse jealous hatred, and he was suddenly angry at them for not taking it as a hint to work harder. _Well, they know they'll never be as perfect at potions as Vesperra…_

Speaking of her, she had heard Professor Snape, but with vague attention, as she was busy grinding up more wolfsbane leaves.

Wondering if she was aware of the many pairs of eyes now boring into her, Snape bent down, seemingly to get a closer look at her potion. "The color's a little off." he whispered, which felt weird, because he never gave students advice before. "I think−" But before he could finish that thought, Vesperra added the extra wolfsbane she had just been grinding, and it automatically deepened the red color of her potion.

Satisfied and proud of herself, she cocked her head at Professor Snape with an expression that seemed to say, _You were saying…?_

_She just added that… It wasn't even part of the instructions, and she knew it would work. With that knack for potions, she could give the Half-Blood Prince a run for his− my money…_ "Improvising… Another five points." Snape would really have liked to pull out a seat and watch her finish it, but that would look pretty suspicious. The other students already hated her enough for doing so well where they were struggling… He couldn't just make it obvious he liked her more. _It already is, though…_

When class ended, Vesperra brought a phial of her now clear potion, and besides her, the only ones who had a more than halfway decent potion were Malfoy and Blaise, who both picked the Doxy bite cure. Wishing he could just stay and ask her how she was so skilled at potions and talk to her for a while, he reluctantly began to sort his desk out and leave to go and see what Potter and Quirrell were up to.

Noticing this, Vesperra ran to catch up with him. "Wait− Sir!" She couldn't let him get away so fast today… He stopped immediately, like she knew he would, and stood genuinely curious as to what was so important, and trying not to appear so impatient. "Happy Birthday."

That was unexpected. Now that he thought about it… It was his birthday. He had completely forgotten that he turned 32 today… but he didn't care, anyway. Still… "How did you know it was my birthday…?"

To answer him, she reached down the collar of her shirt and pulled out her necklace, on which the _S_ was still glowing and warm, and twirled it in her fingers. At his look of confusion, she said, "It was glowing this morning… So I checked on the back, and it said today's date and '32.' Oh− and…" Bending down to open her bag, she pulled out the tin, and took the lid off the top.

He didn't think it was possible, but Snape was even more shocked. Vesperra held out a cake, which had written on it in green icing, _Happy Birthday Severus_. Looking back and forth from the cake to her hopeful expression, he finally reached out to take it.

"Where…?" he couldn't even finish the sentence, he was in such gratitude.

"The kitchens. The House Elves made it for me."

Setting the cake down, he took a step towards her and kneeled in front of her, then took the necklace in his hands. Turning the glowing letter over in his fingers, he read the tiny inscription on the back. Then, he pulled out the _V_ of his own silver necklace, and noticed, for the first time, carved words on the back of it. _July 20__th_ was on the left side, and on the right, _12_.

"Dumbledore must have planned this… I guess he does care." he whispered as he stood back up. "Thank you for the cake… You really didn't have to−"

"Well, I wanted to. You've never had a cake on your birthday before, have you?"

Thinking back… all his birthdays up until the year he met Lily Evans had been horrible. He'd be lucky to get a new shirt and a single brownie… and he was never lucky. But it was very lucky that he had Lily Evans as his best and only friend, because once she found out he never had a real cake or any decent presents, she had gone home and asked her mum to bake a cake, and bought him some real clothes. But for the conversation's sake, he couldn't tell Vesperra about that.

"No, I− I haven't. Have you?"

"No."

"Well, you'll just have to eat it with me, won't you?"

Vesperra was so excited, she couldn't even speak. Giving him somewhat of a grin, she asked, "Wait, but don't you have to go check the Foe-Glass and watch Quirrell?"

_Oh. Right. That._ Well, he certainly wasn't going to eat it on his own later that night. And there wouldn't be enough time to have her visit him after classes during the week. "I'll just save it for this weekend, then. After the Quidditch match."

"But won't it go stale by then?"

"There's spells for that." Taking the lid from her and placing it back on the cake tin, he started towards his office. "Thank you, again." Suddenly very grateful for Dumbledore, and Vesperra even more, he set his birthday cake on the desk in his office, and set off for some spying.

* * *

Miraculously, he finally saw something in the Foe-Glass, which was the most prolonged one yet− about fifteen seconds. Quirrell was pacing back and forth in a corridor, which he then saw to be the one near the library. Then, he ceased his pacing and peeked inside the library, where Potter and his friends were packing up their things. With an expression of utmost anxiety, he waited for them to leave−

And he didn't see any more of it, because he left the Room of Requirement at once and flew down the stairs to the library as fast as possible. Struggling to even his breathing, he crossed paths with Potter and his friends, who walked up the very stairs he was going down, and didn't _look_ dead… Giving the boy a cold, menacing look, he continued down the stairs so as to not appear too suspicious.

Quirrell seemed to have been trapped and forced into conversation with McGonagall, who was asking him why he had been lurking around the library, to which he looked around frantically and stuttered so badly he accidentally got some spit in Minerva's eye. After that, she disgustedly wiped it out with her pinky and gave up, hurrying away. Snape sauntered up to replace her, and folded his arms at the man.

"Need any book in particular, Quirrell?" said Snape silkily, which seemed to drain all color from the other teacher's face.

"N-n-no… I-I'll just be g-going now…" Scurrying away like the squirrel he was, he straightened his turban and left down the nearest corridor. Snape was sure he wasn't even originally going that way, but merely wanted a quick escape from the Potions Master.

As usual, he followed Potter and Quirrell around as much as possible, but the next day, he noticed that the boy and his friends no longer spent any time in the library, like they had been doing daily for the past few weeks, since before Christmas. It didn't seem likely that three kids were doing anything that could be dangerous to him, but their sudden change of behavior was rather curious… And knowing Potter's reputation (more like his father's), they could very well be up to something.

On Thursday, he had Potions with the Gryffindor first years last, and used the hour to his advantage. After everyone had started their potion, he bent down in front of Potter's desk, greasy black hair framing his face just as ominously as he needed it to.

"What is _this_ supposed to be, Potter? I was under the impression that I assigned you to create a potion, not a bucket of slime."

Just as he expected, the boy looked up at him and stared into his cold, black eyes. _Now, to apply a little Legillimency…_ Probing into his mind without meeting any sort of defense or awareness of having his mind infiltrated, he scoffed inwardly. _Of course, the simplest of minds… _Suddenly, he got flashes of memories that had to only have been days old.

Potter and his friends were staring intently at a passage in a very large book, and the Granger girl said, "See? The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

Immediately pulling out of his mind before he could see anymore memories, he gave Potter a look of the deepest loathing and fear he had ever felt. _He knows. The kid bloody knows… about the dog, about Flamel, about the Stone… So that's why they've been in the library so much… It's my damn fault, I've been too sloppy! He saw my leg… But still, they can't have known that much unless another teacher let it slip…_

Immensely angry, he was the least fair to Gryffindor than ever, taking a total of roughly forty points in one class day. He was especially mean to Potter, and not sarcastic mean. Snape practically tortured him− so horribly that Granger, who was sitting next to him and heard it just as loud as he did, nearly started crying.

Wondering if Quirrell knew how much Potter knew, he made sure not to let the boy out of his sight if he could help it for the rest of that day and the next. _If Quirrell's taking direct action now, and he knows about the Stone… There's nothing left to do but to scare him out of trying anything._

The man feared him, that much was obvious… but they hadn't met face to face too often… On Friday evening, he met Quirrell just before dinner. Having waited for this opportunity for a couple days now, he pulled him aside near the Great Hall entrance.

"S-Severus, what d-do you−" he stuttered, seeming to wish he were anywhere but there.

"I need to speak with you. Privately. Tomorrow, during dinner, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest." said Snape as calmly as possible, easily hiding the fact that he wanted so very much to strangle him right then.

"O-okay." was all Quirrell seemed to be able to say. For someone who was going after something protected by seven different beasts and enchantments, he sure was a coward.

While eating dinner, slightly less worried now that he had a plan in place, he began staring at Vesperra for comfort. She didn't notice him staring for a while, but finally, she glanced back, so he was satisfied and went back to eating.

And then, he thought about Potter knowing about the Sorcerer's Stone− How? It had been on his mind non-stop the past few days… Well, that would be one of the things he found out when confronted Quirrell. Also, if Potter and his friends knew about it… did any other students? There was no doubt Vesperra was keeping a close watch on Quirrell… Could she know already, but just not have told him? _No, that's stupid. She would never keep something from me…_

Suddenly, Snape felt bad, because he _was_ keeping something from her. Actually, a lot of things. If three other students already knew about the Stone… she deserved to as well. The only reason he hadn't told her before was because students weren't supposed to know about it… but that seemed ridiculous now. She knew everything about it except exactly _what_ it was. And he had already told her much more than what students are _supposed_ to know.

* * *

After breakfast on Saturday morning, Vesperra went straight to the Room of Requirement for a few hours to spend with Professor Snape before lunch, which preceded that day's Quidditch match. She arrived hardly minutes after he did, and gladly took her seat next to him.

The stress, he noticed, had quickly returned to being as bad as it was before Christmas. It was a good thing he'd still have the weekends, where they could spend time together and make progress at the same time.

"Are you sure it's safe to meet with him alone?" Vesperra had asked when the subject of his plan came up. "What if he curses you or something? He can't be that stupid, if he hasn't been killed by the dog yet."

"I thought the same thing, but he's a coward. He knows I'm much more skilled in curses than he his… He used to be the Muggle Studies teacher, you know. I have absolutely no idea why Dumbledore appointed him for Defense Against the Dark Arts after the last one quit, when I've been asking for the job for years…" Snape let himself trail off, to keep from going into one of_ those_ rants again. Actually, he did know the exact reason why Dumbledore didn't want him to have the job− he just disagreed with it.

"I'd love to have you teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." she admitted. "I don't like the subject much, but I'm sure I would if it was taught by a competent teacher. But Potions does seem more your forte…"

"Yes, I suppose… And, Vesperra, before the Quidditch match, I need to tell you something important that I should have told you a while ago." Snape was breathing slightly heavier now. He was really going to do this.

She adjusted her body so she could keep eye contact with him for a prolonged amount of time without getting a sore neck, then patiently waited for him to continue.

"That thing that Quirrell's been trying to steal… It's called the Sorcerer's Stone." he paused to see if any sign of already knowing what it was appeared in her eyes, but none did. "It was created by Nicholas Flamel, who is good friends with Dumbledore. The Stone can be used to create gold and produce the Elixir of Eternal Life, which would make the drinker immortal." Vesperra's eyes widened at that, and he felt slightly uneasy.

"Well, there's no wonder Quirrell wants it… anyone would. But if he's such a coward, why's he willing to try and get past all those guards for it?"

Glad that she wasn't interested in getting it for herself, like he was worried she might be, he felt better immediately. "That's one thing I don't know. But I'm hoping to find out… He's been a teacher at Hogwarts almost as long as I have… And he's always been one of those annoyingly nice teachers. Why he'd want to steal something Dumbledore trusted him with helping to guard, I don't know."

"So why did it have to be guarded in the first place?" said Vesperra.

"Nicholas Flamel thought someone was after it, so he trusted Dumbledore to keep it safe here."

Vesperra didn't think to ask any more questions, since that information seemed pretty straightforward. She was glad Professor Snape finally decided to tell her… It made much more sense, now that she knew _why_ Quirrell was after what she now knew was the Stone. And now, he could continue to give her more than vague updates.

Now that he had told her all that, Snape felt much better. But there was still the entire part about Quirrell trying to kill Potter that he couldn't mention, since he was supposed to hate him. Which he did. And that would have made even less sense to her.

When it was nearly lunchtime, Snape stood up. "Are you ready to see _me_ be a referee?" he asked sarcastically, heading towards the door, then holding it open for her.

"As ready as I am to see Gryffindor be destroyed."

* * *

There were much more people in the stands than in the first game− it seemed like the entire school was out there. Anxious to see Gryffindor win and beat Slytherin in House championship for the first time in seven years, no doubt. Passing him as he waited near the benches was the silver-bearded Dumbledore himself, who almost never left his office except for meals.

"Good Afternoon, Sev−"

"What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded with incredulous frustration, nearly throwing down his broom in anger. His eyes twitched as they attempted to cause Dumbledore to feel the same insanity he was suddenly feeling, but the man just smiled as warmly as ever at him.

"I wanted to witness this climactic event… Gryffindor has not won House championship in seven years, as I'm sure you know, and they have a good chance this year." Smiling again in a way that made Snape want to slap it right off of him, he was on his way to one of the top boxes of seats.

Unable to form words for how angry he was, he just folded his arms and scowled. _He knew I was refereeing today, and he knew why! He knows every bloody thing that goes on here, especially with me… There's no way Quirrell will try anything with Dumbledore here, and he knows that too! And he doesn't bother to tell me there was no reason for me to do this anymore? Does he enjoy seeing me more stressed than necessary? Is he getting some kind of entertainment out of seeing me like this? Me− A referee! I must look ridiculous out here…_

Looking extremely angry as the teams marched out onto the field, he noticed them looking very fearful, in turn.

"There better not be any cheating, if you know what's good for you." said Snape coldly, which sounded strange outside of the dungeons. He didn't expect any from the Hufflepuffs anyway… Their idea of roughhousing would be blowing bubbles in their opponent's eyes so they couldn't see. "Mount your brooms."

And he blew the whistle. Kicking off on his own broom, he flew up until he had a good view of the entire field. It felt strange, since he hadn't actually flown a broom since his days at Hogwarts. He was never a good flyer, either, which was one of the reasons he hated James Potter so much from the beginning. That was also one of the things he was very self-conscious about, since this was actually something Potter (the young one) was better at than him. Sure, he was a teacher, and was extremely skilled in magic the boy was likely never to comprehend in his life, but he still couldn't fly very well.

What was he thinking, deciding to referee the game when he'd be up in the air, which was _not_ where he belonged, when there were fourteen students up there as well that hated him, and could very easily knock him off his broom and kill him?

Great, now he was paranoid.

He was moving his eyes rapidly to keep up with the Quaffle, which Katie Bell had just scored ten points with, any students flying his way, and Potter all at the same time. Heart pounding, he watched George (or Fred, he could never be sure) Weasley stop a Bludger from knocking Angelina off her broom, and hit it directly towards him. Pupils dilating in panic, he swerved out of its way. Then he blew the whistle.

"Penalty shot to Hufflepuff for attempting to injure the referee." All the Gryffindors either moaned in disapproval or waved their arms frantically in their frustration and hate for him, and the Hufflepuff team smiled triumphantly. The chaser made it, which was surprising against Oliver Wood, who was supposed to be an extremely talented Keeper.

Within the next minute, Gryffindor was still outsmarting Hufflepuff, but before they could make their second goal, Snape blew the whistle again and awarded Hufflepuff another penalty on the pretenses that Katie flew dangerously close to him. Once again, everyone but the Slytherins howled boos across the stands. Even some Hufflepuffs didn't seem to like it, because they didn't feel they were winning fairly. _Oh, this'll probably be the first win for you in years. Be happy with it, dammit._

Just wishing the game would end so he could get out of the air, he glared at Cedric Diggory, silently willing him to hurry up and_ find_ the Snitch. At least he didn't have the added stress of worrying about Quirrell while this was going on− except he wouldn't have had to be up there in the first place. But now, his only worry was making sure Gryffindor lost.

All of a sudden, the crowd began gasping and pointing and screaming, and he snapped into focus. Turning on his broomstick, something scarlet shot right past him, missing him by inches and tearing a few strands of his hair out in the process. He was nearly knocked off balance, and was busy steadying himself when the stands erupted, and he had to whirl around again to see Potter pulling out of a dive and holding the snitch up.

Rather than an explosion of fury, Snape felt the same cold insanity that he had felt hardly five minutes earlier with Dumbledore. It started in his chest, then spread through his body as if he were slowly being frozen with his own anger. There was no getting around it now… Gryffindor would win the House championship. And even worse, Slytherin would lose.

He landed moments after Potter did, a short distance away from him. Face drained of blood and lips tightened in a very unpleasant manner to keep himself from scowling so hard it stuck that way, he watched as Dumbledore laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, much like Snape would do with Vesperra, and smile proudly.

It absolutely sickened him to see anyone seem so proud of the kid he hated more than anything, especially the man who had convinced him to do all this in the first place. And especially right now, with his day already ruined. Spitting bitterly on the ground to purposely get Dumbledore's attention, he gave the man a glare worthy of a Basilisk's, and stomped off dramatically to the castle.

Snape hated how he could be so angry, and yet Albus could appear so calm. And when he really wanted him to see and understand how angry he was, and maybe be somewhat frightened, the man just kept smiling at him. It was so. Bloody. Annoying.

* * *

He was about to relay all of this to Vesperra once they had met up back in the Room of Requirement, but then remembered that it wouldn't make any sense to her, because she thought he was only refereeing to try and make Hufflepuff win. But there was no hiding that he was angry and had a horrible headache, because he was scowling worse than he ever did around her and massaging his temple.

Vesperra assumed it was because of Gryffindor winning and him nearly being hit twice, though. She was angry about all those things as well, and hated seeing him like this.

"You didn't look too comfortable when you were flying." she told him in a soft voice, to try and ease his pain.

It worked somewhat. Inclining his head, he considered her. "Hmm?"

"You were just stiff and hunched over, like you were afraid you'd fall off any second. Why'd you choose to ref the game if you don't like flying?"

"Well… it's been a while. I suppose I forgot… But it would have been easier if Weasley didn't hit a Bludger straight for my face."

He looked even more pained now, and his fingers clawed the air as his hand hung off the chair. So Vesperra reached for it, and held it in hers. "And it's a good thing he missed, because that would've broken your nose. Can you imagine your nose being bent inward? I prefer it the way it is…"

Instantly calming down at her touch, he marveled at her tiny hand grasping his, then closed his fingers around it. "Do you _really_ like my nose?" asked Snape breathily.

Slightly embarrassed, she glanced down. Yes, she did. Very much. It made him look even more menacing when he was trying to be, which was most of the time… But it also complemented his smile the rare times that he did.

"Why the tone of surprise?"

"It's… just never been one of my better features." Not wanting to get on the track to a conversation about whether or not he was attractive, he remembered something and changed the subject. "Want to get started on that cake?"

"Sure."

Pulling out the cake and cutting it with a spell, then thinking that they needed plates so the Room would create a couple for them, he handed her a slice, and dug in to his. _Happy Birthday to me._ he thought bitterly, taking a bite. But then, he noticed the icing on the piece he had cut for himself. It spelt out _Sev_.

He didn't think he could continue eating it at first, because a strange urge to cry engulfed him, but he fought it back. Then, it occurred to him that she had gotten _Happy Birthday Severus_ put on there instead of _Happy Birthday Professor Snape_. She always called him Professor Snape… _But maybe she wanted it to seem more like I was a kid, getting a cake, like I never did as a child. _At that he decided he could eat it, including the icing that said _Sev_.

After swallowing a mouthful of chocolate cake, Vesperra cleared her throat. "I still can't believe Gryffindor won… and in under five minutes. That's it for Slytherin, isn't it?" She sounded bitter and absolutely defeated.

"Not unless I find an excuse to take about two-hundred points from Gryffindor."

"Will you?"

"With Potter and his little friends running around… probably." Snape actually hoped to catch them up to something. Lately, he'd been wondering if those little twerps were after the Stone themselves, but forced himself to give up that thought. _They're not that stupid− and if they know about the dog, they know they'd be going on a suicide mission._ But maybe they _were_ just that stupid, and they'd go and get theirselves eaten. He'd have to keep a watch out for _that_ now, too…

Besides, if they were doing something highly against the rules, he could suspend them from leaving their dorms for anything but classes or meals. Then he'd have less to worry about.

As they finished their slices and decided they were full, they returned to watching the Foe-Glass and ranting about the Quidditch match. Vesperra proposed a few ideas of how he could get away with taking so many points from Gryffindor, and he grinned at her pure Slytherin-ness.

Soon enough, it was dinner, so they had to leave. Almost out the threshold, Snape looked down and noticed she still had some chocolate at the corner of her mouth. He promptly licked his thumb without thinking and wiped where the chocolate was, smearing his thumb around to get it off completely.

Out of nowhere, Professor Snape's fingers were firmly, yet not roughly, holding her jaw as his thumb wiped across the right edge of her mouth, just barely touching her lips. He didn't seem to notice her eyes widen in the shock of him actually touching her face, since he was focused on, apparently, wiping leftover cake off of it. Removing his hand and wiping it on his own robes, he looked surprised at what he had just done.

Lightly moving her fingers over the corner of her mouth and up the edge of her jaw, she gave him an expression that was not vacant, but left to be interpreted as anything. Snape tried to keep his own casual, and lowered his voice. "Sorry, I−"

"Well, you got it off." said Vesperra casually with somewhat of an airy voice. And she gestured her head toward the outside corridor, walking out on her own and slowing down a bit for him to catch up after he closed the door.

That's what fathers were supposed to do, wasn't it? Lick their thumbs and wipe food off their child's face… Vesperra wasn't sure, because neither her mum nor dad ever did that. But she knew from seeing it happen to other children in Diagon Alley or Muggle stores at the time before her father found out about her mother being a witch, and before they started screaming at each other every night. The strange thing was, though, it didn't feel like a father doing it. Professor Snape's fatherly instinct might have prevailed for a few seconds, but she didn't think that was possible, seeing as he had never _been_ a father. In reality, it still felt like a friend… who happened to be much older than her. _I hope he does it more often…_

At least she didn't mind it… But why did he do that? What came over him that made him think to actually wipe it off her face? _Well, I wasn't just going to let her go down to dinner with chocolate all over her face…_ Now that he thought about it, his mother had never done that to him. Maybe that was it− maybe he just felt protective. Because neither of them had loving or caring parents, so they needed to be that for each other. _I'll have to do that more often._

* * *

Snape spent about ten minutes at dinner, then left on the pretenses that he was immensely busy with grading essays. Quirrell hadn't shown up at all, so he figured he was already waiting for him. Once in the corridors, he had to take the long way around to the Entrance Hall, and pushed the front doors open.

Black cape billowing a bit more than usual, he threw his hood over his head and went swiftly down the stone steps. It felt awfully foreboding… especially since this was how the Death Eaters used to dress. But it was necessary to ensure that no one but Quirrell saw him… Also to avoid being seen, he walked as fast as he possibly could, calves burning and knees slowly beginning to resist, to the forbidden forest.

Peering into the thick forest, he saw a flash of purple in between trees− Quirrell's turban. But it wasn't staying still. _That. Sodding. Git!_ He was running away, the bloody coward… Snape broke into a run, suddenly wishing he could just Apparate right in front of him. _That_ _would scare the living shit out of him…_

But luckily, he was much faster and more coordinated on the ground than he was in the air. Taking a shortcut through a clearing, not minding a small rip in his robes from being caught on a thicket, he stopped right as Quirrell ran into him and fell down. The man stared up at him in horror, and looked as if he was trying to speak, but no sound would come out.

Snape reached down and seized the front of his robes, pulling Quirrell off the ground and steadying him, then stepped forward, cornering him into a tree. "Trying to get away, are you?" he asked coldly, fully aware of the fear he was inducing with his voice, and somewhat enjoying it. But now was not the time for playing on Quirrell's paranoia, this was serious.

"I thought I-I heard a w-werewolf, s-so I…" The look in his eyes as he trailed off only made it obvious he was lying, and that he knew Snape knew he was. It was a stupid lie, anyway− the full moon wasn't for another few days. But unexpectedly, Quirrell got confident again. "W-well I m-must have heard s-something… It's n-not safe here. I d-don't know why you wanted t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus."

"Oh, thought we'd keep this private. Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all." Taking a step back, he surveyed the cowering man in front of him with a loathsome scowl. _Oh, that scared you, didn't it?_

"Of-of course…" he mumbled, voice getting softer and more fearful with each word, "and none d-do. Surely no st-student−"

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Part of him _knew_ it would be difficult to get a real answer… but that was just the most pathetic excuse for lying he'd ever heard, even coming out of Quirrell.

"B-b-but Severus, I−"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell." Technically, he already was. That man had made the past few months horrible stress for him… He had pulled out his own bloody _hair_ because of him. Vesperra was deprived of her only friend− because of that bastard. But like she said, Quirrell didn't know it yet. Well, he did now.

"I-I don't know what you−"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. All the teachers are supposed to _protect_ the Stone. And Dumbledore trusted all of us, but he's crackers− trusts too easily. Even little _tossers_ like you. But I want to know what the hell you were playing at the last Quidditch match." Quirrell's face lost all its remaining blood, which he didn't think could be possible at this point. "Yes, I know about your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't−"

"Very well, we'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie." said Snape in a finalizing tone. He knew Quirrell wouldn't say anything else, since he was hardly capable of speech in the state he was in now, anyway. Shooting the petrified-looking man one last loathing glare, he threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing and back to the castle.

It was rapidly getting darker, and dinner was over, so he stopped by the Room of Requirement and grabbed the leftover cake from his chair, not even bothering to look into the Foe-Glass. He ate the rest of it in his chambers, hoping it would make him less angry, but it didn't. _Well, my plan got me… absolutely nowhere._ And he stuffed his anger down his throat with a mouthful of cake.

* * *

**Doesn't it make you sad how they both have to lie to each other, and then feel bad because they're so sure the other would never lie to them? Oh, the tragic irony... But it's a good thing Dumbledore thinks of everything(but also sort of creepy). Severus deserves a good birthday. And didn't you ever wonder... "Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Harry didn't see how he could−yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling Snape could read minds." Well, turns out he was.**

**In the next chapter: Snape at Lily's grave, Vesperra's Scar and Worst Memory**

**Please review and tell me what you thought!**


	12. Book 1: Chapter 12

**I've had so much homework lately... stupid essays and projects. Some of the nights during the week, I was hardly able to get a couple paragraphs in. But I finished yesterday, read it over and added the finishing touches this morning, and I can finally post the chapter! Well, here it is!**

* * *

Without even a slight _creak_, the large front doors of Hogwarts were thrown open, and a man stepped out into the night. His cloak dragged on the ground of the windless grounds as he made it down the stone steps, crossed the courtyard, and made it to the bridge that led to Hogsmeade. Stopping for a moment, he gripped the wooden side-rails so hard that his hand almost bled from the splinters. Deciding to continue, he walked on. Soon, he was out of the school grounds and standing outside of the Three Broomsticks. Rather than entering the building, however, he spun on his heel, and with a faint _pop_, was gone.

Suddenly, Snape wasn't anywhere near Hogwarts. Fierce winds struck his face at once, and whipped his long, black hair every which way. Not bothering to brush it out of his face, he started walking on the pavement. It being near midnight, there were no lights on in the village except for the streetlights, and then one in a pub. But where he was headed was where there weren't any streetlights.

Briskly walking down the brick roads, he passed the village square. In the very center was a ten-foot high stone statue, and he stopped. He had seen it so many times... but the pain of seeing it never lessened. Set on a platform, stone depictions of Lily, James, and baby Harry in Lily's arms smiled at him. But he couldn't smile back.

The urge to reach out and caress her stone face was alarmingly difficult to fight back. And when he succumbed to it, it hurt even more, for he couldn't even reach it. All he could do was hold air with a trembling hand, then slowly lower it back to his pocket. His eyes broke from staring solely at Lily and he glanced at the other two, suddenly not hating them as much.

There was no room in his mind to think of how James's acts had indirectly killed him and Lily at that moment… there was only sorrow for both of them dying. To keep himself from being stuck there permanently, Snape finally moved his legs from their previous spots, not knowing how long he had been standing there. It felt like a millennia… But then again, it felt like only a second.

Spotting the place he had really gone there for, Snape turned his back on the statue, and headed for a wrought-iron kissing gate behind the church. Pushing it open, he flicked his wand, and a tiny ball of light shined on the end of it, illuminating the area.

It was a graveyard. Row upon row of tombstones lay before him on the wet earth− it had clearly rained shortly before he arrived in the village. Wading into the graves, he passed a block of dark granite that sported the words _Kendra Dumbledore and Her Daughter Ariana_. He didn't stop, though. Snape had noticed that long before now and had asked Dumbledore about it, but the man refused to tell him. _I've told him every single bloody detail about my tragic past, and he can't share anything with me?_

But two rows down and a bit left down the row was the only thing he cared about now, and everything else fled his mind. Made of white marble, the headstone shone so unnaturally bright that he didn't need the light from his wand to see it. On it were two names, but he only had eyes for the one on the right.

LILY POTTER  
Born 30 January 1960  
Died 31 October 1981

Kneeling down, Snape traced those letters with his thumb, and tears began to trickle out of his eyes. Even through the moisture, he read under it, _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. _After reading that every year when he visited this grave, he still wasn't completely sure what it meant. But he tried not to strain his mind, because it head was already throbbing, like it had been all day. Either way, he didn't like it. It just made him feel uneasy.

Keeping his teary gaze transfixed on the inscription of her name, he waved his wand in a small circle, and flowers appeared out of them. But not just any flowers− lilies. Holding them ever so softly in his hand, he was careful not to damage the perfect stem or the silk-like petals. Then, he lowered it to the earth in front of the headstone, only feet above where her bones now resided. They were likely only dust now.

"Happy birthday, Lily." whispered Snape, blinking slowly.

All at once, the trickle of tears stopped, and restarted as a flash flood. He collapsed on the muddy ground, still on his knees, but now had his heart beating against the dirt as his chest heaved sobs that he struggled to keep silent. His hands clawed at the ground, desperately wishing for something to hold onto besides tufts of grass. It was the closest he could get to hugging her, when her body was six feet under, and not even her body anymore.

She would have been thirty-two that day. Just like him. Oh, how he wished she was there, not dead. Even Snape couldn't be so selfish to wish she wasn't with Potter, and never had a son with that bastard, and instead married _him_, and had _his_ son… He just wanted her to be alive. And happy.

But she wasn't. Well, she might have been happy, wherever she was, but she'd definitely be happier alive. With weak and trembling arms, he pushed himself up from the ground, and wiped mud off his face. Calming down somewhat, but not crying any softer, he leaned back on his knees.

"Lily… I just want you to know that I'm doing it. I'm doing what I know you'd want… Your son will be safe. I won't let you down. But—but I do have help. Her name's Vesperra, and you'd like her. She could never replace you, but she's my best friend. And I forgive you for never forgiving me, because I'd bet the world that you sent her." It was all that he wanted to say, and after saying it, it felt like a heavy weight was lifted from his chest.

Still quite shakily, he removed his knees from the earth and stood up. Mud covered most of his robes, so he cleaned himself off with a spell. Now breathing evenly, he felt he had done everything he wanted to. If he stuck around any longer, he'd never bring himself to leave. So, leaving Lily to rest in peace and not giving a second thought to the other man buried there, he turned on his heel and vanished.

* * *

The weeks following the second Quidditch match and Professor Snape's confrontation with Quirrell, Vesperra had another bout of depression. She had been seeing much less of him besides Potions class and weekends, and even then, he always appeared to have a horrible headache and it pained her every time he looked her in the eye.

The end of January had been especially strange, because during meals, he hadn't looked at her once. Then, in class, his eyes seemed somewhat glazed over to her, like they had when he was bitten by that dog. But he wasn't limping, and didn't appear to be in any pain. That night, he messaged her very late, and with only one thing;

_Sorry, but I have to leave to go somewhere important tonight. Talk to you tomorrow._

It was difficult to handle, but she was thankful they still had weekends in the Room of Requirement, watching the Foe-Glass. If they looked closely, Quirrell was always a shadow in the background, but the image got clearer a lot more often than it used to. Still, they would only see him in flashes, and it was pretty vague about what he was doing. But they knew they'd have seen something serious if they could see the whites of his eyes.

Every Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Vesperra was sorely tempted to stay behind after class and curse Quirrell right there, but she knew Professor Snape wouldn't want her to. But that was only because, for some strange reason, he had orders from Dumbledore not to kill the man.

Along with not being able to hurt him, Professor Snape had ordered her not to try and spy on him, threaten him, or interrogate him. Though she respected his wishes and the fact that he only wanted to keep her safe, she didn't see how much of a danger Quirrell could be. Maybe if he _did_ let her, and she was just a little more straightforward than him…

But he wouldn't, so she couldn't. Vesperra figured that now, with how much she hated Quirrell, if she had gone back to that room with the Mirror of Erised, she'd have seen herself catching him. She even started arriving at the Room of Requirement on weekend mornings before Professor Snape did, and made sure to put an ear to Quirrell's office door for a minute before she did. But she didn't tell Professor Snape the latter.

"Listen, it's my job to protect the stone, not yours." he had said when he realized how eager she was to catch Quirrell. "I don't want you to take on a grown man's stress. I know you want to stop him as much as I do, but there's nothing you can do that I'm not doing already."

And then he grasped her hand in his, stroked calming circles on the back of hers with his thumb, and didn't let go for the rest of that day.

* * *

Snape swooped about in his usual bad temper, fully aware how much he resembled an overgrown bat. He had been trying to get Quirrell alone for the past week, but the man had avoided him so well. Roughly a month had passed since he confronted him in the forest, and he was ready for another go at it. And with every passing day that he couldn't corner him, Snape became even more frustrated.

Keeping watch on Potter hadn't been a walk in the park, either. In fact, he had often passed Quirrell in the corridors, and Snape noticed him throw an encouraging smile in the quivering man's direction. That ginger friend of his had even told off some other kids for laughing at Quirrell's stutter. It left him deeply confused.

_No one's ever liked Quirrell. Not even Potter. Why are he and his friends suddenly being so nice to him?_ And then, he remembered an eerie voice, from months ago… _A hasty decision made tonight will make you an enemy and three foolish friends_… That was what Trelawney had said on Halloween morning, and he remembered wondering what it meant. Now he knew.

The enemy was him, and the 'three foolish friends' were Potter, Weasley, and Granger. But if those kids liked Quirrell now, then that must have meant they had no idea he was after the Stone. _They still know someone's after it, though… So they must think it's me. _Snape knew how much he must fit the description for someone that would want to steal it, but the fact made him immensely angry.

_Me− they think I'm trying to steal the stone. Oh, Potter probably thinks I'm the one trying to kill him, too. This is just bloody great, then! I'm saving his arse, and he's only going to help my enemy!_ Missing his mattress and kicking the bed frame instead, he bit down his pain and stared at the floor while waiting for it to subside.

He thought for a moment about using Legilimency on the boy again to see if his assumptions were correct, but decided not to, since he didn't really want to prove it, anyway. But that thought gave him an idea that he was surprised he hadn't thought of before.

The rest of the week, he was especially horrible to Potter. Then again, he was always that horrible to him. He was just doing it with more of a conscious effort. _If he's going to hate me, he might as well have a reason…_

That Friday, he had the rare treat of teaching no afternoon lessons, and used it to his advantage. Snape waited outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the last ten minutes of that day's classes, and his heart pounded wickedly. When the bell rang and all the fifth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors filed out of the room, he stepped back and watched their expressions become frightened as they hurried to avoid losing House points from him. Quirrell was about to leave as well, but Snape stopped him in the doorway.

"What's the hurry, Quirrell?" he asked icily, stepping forward just as he had in the forbidden forest.

"Oh− I-I just needed t-to−"

"You've been avoiding me. I wanted to know if you've made up your mind yet. I should have made myself quite clear in our last meeting." Snape had backed him all the way to the opposite wall now, barricading any means of escape by simply folding his arms. That was usually enough.

"Avoiding you? N-no, I− why w-would−"

Snape's left hand flew from being tucked inside the fold of his other arm to Quirrell's neck, pinning it against the wall. It cut off his vocal cords, but he was sure the man could still breathe.

"Oh, I know why. And I know I won't get a straight answer out of you, anyway." _At least not without your permission…_

Quirrell struggled to try and twist his neck out of his grasp, but Snape only gripped tighter and forced the man's head to face him. With fierce concentration, he made eye contact, and forced himself into his mind. There was a brief flash of Quirrell throwing on a cloak and leaving the castle, but before he could see anything else, something forced him back out.

Snape was suddenly lying on his back on the stone floor of the classroom, staring up at the ceiling. There was a horrible, throbbing pain in the back of his skull, which he guessed had made contact with the floor very violently when Quirrell threw him out of his mind. _Quirrell._ He just remembered− Wait, how long had he been laying there? Had he been knocked unconscious?

Looking around, he saw that Quirrell was nowhere to be seen. He didn't even hear running footsteps in the distance. The door was closed, and the lights were off. It was painful to stand up, but Snape wasn't one to let pain stop him from doing anything. _Oh, Merlin…_ Shutting his eyes and holding his head, he leaned against the wall and waited until the added pain from standing up so suddenly lessened a bit.

Both furious and worried, he left the classroom. There were students walking about in the corridors, so that meant he couldn't have been out for too long. Relieved, he endured the pain all the way back to his office, where he took a Calming Drought and saw that it wasn't even 5:30 yet. _I must have only been unconscious for about twenty minutes… _And with that, Snape didn't hesitate in bounding out the door and headed straight for Dumbledore's office.

"Lemon drop." The gargoyle leapt aside, letting him up the moving spiral staircase. He was about to just push the door open, but something in him made him knock first.

"You may come in." rang Dumbledore's voice.

So he did. Snape was still scowling as he strode to the Headmaster's desk and sat across from him.

"I see you're speaking to me again. But I suppose you've very important things to tell me about Quirrell?"

He had actually forgotten about why he was so angry with Dumbledore when he decided to come up here, but now that he was reminded of it, his scowl deepened.

"Yes, I do. I tried to use Legillimency on him, since he wouldn't tell me why he was after the stone, and he threw me out of his mind." Snape's eyes were intense as he waited for his reaction, but the man across from him seemed impassive.

"Would you expect him to do any different, Severus? People don't like their mind infiltrated, after all."

"But don't you understand what this means? He can use Occlumency− it hardly took him a second to throw me out of his mind! I was unconscious for twenty minutes!"

"Did you expect him to know Occlumency?"  
"Well, no…"

"Then he caught you unawares. It's much easier to block someone out when they're not expecting you to."

"But it doesn't bother you at all that he knew it in the first place?"

"Of course it does." said Dumbledore brightly. "But why do you care if it bothers me?"

Snape seethed at him. _How can he be so bloody calm? Does he even care if Quirrell kills Potter or steals the Stone? He can't expect me to keep this up forever…_

"Because Quirrell has something to hide." said Snape through gritted teeth. "There's something he really doesn't want us to know, and I think it might be−"

"Shouldn't you be relaying this with someone else?" he interrupted with a quizzical expression.

"What? Who?" Mind racing, Snape could only think of one person. _But he couldn't mean…_ "Vesperra?"

"She _is_ helping you with all this Quirrell business, isn't she? Unless I'm mistaken, I'd say she's doing a very good job of it, too. That girl is quite brilliant…"

At this, Snape couldn't help but soften his eyes a bit. "Yes, she is…" Then they hardened again. "But what can she do? I'm not putting her in danger, I just won't. I just can't lose anyone else." He could feel tears coming on, but he forced them back. Dumbledore was smiling sadly at him.

"Oh, how rude I've been." he said, waving his wand and causing two teacups to pour themselves. "Tea, Severus?"

Hesitating a moment, he agreed and took a cup. As he sipped it, he thought of the day he spent with Vesperra, drinking Firewhiskey-tea and him taking her to the kitchens and them talking about her mother… and finding out she was a Lestrange. He hated to change the subject, but something just came to mind.

"Did you _know_ Vesperra's mother was a Lestrange?"

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore seemed to have been waiting him to ask something of that nature. "Ah, yes… Cassandra Lestrange." He gazed at the ceiling, remembering her. "She and Sapphira− her sister− were quite the opposite. Much like Regulus and Sirius Black." Snape's eye twitched at the mention of Sirius, but he didn't say anything. "They hated each other, and it wasn't the usual sibling-hate. At least, not with Cassandra. She spent a lot of time in detention for trying to curse her sister. But otherwise, she had good marks. I don't think she liked me very much, though… Probably thought I was a bit strange. So, to answer your question, I did."

Frowning at Dumbledore, Snape set his cup of tea down. "And you didn't think it was important to tell me?"

"Why should it be, Severus? Because Bellatrix Lestrange is her aunt, and that practically makes Voldemort her uncle? Do you think, because of her family, she's going to go over to the Dark side? I know she's an extraordinary witch already, and can make a flask explode if she's angry enough, but if I recall correctly, she's been helping you try to catch Quirrell ever since Halloween. It's our choices, far more than our abilities, that show who we truly are. And Vesperra is a girl who cares about you and wants to finish this as soon as she can. I'm not saying you have to let her go duel Quirrell… But she's brilliant. She deserves to know everything, because I know she'll be able to help."

It was always very unnerving when Dumbledore did this to him… He knew more or less everything that went on in the school, and his brilliant mind never failed to analyze everything right down to the last detail.

"What am I supposed to do about Potter, then? I can't tell her about him." asked Snape, when he had calmed down some.

"Why not?" His sad smile was back.

"Because… because I just can't. Not yet." Snape gulped down some more tea, and watched Dumbledore over the rim of his cup. The man didn't speak, but only stared at him imploringly. It reminded him of the first time he had come in here to tell him about Vesperra being a Parselmouth, before any of this stress had started. He suddenly wished he could go back to those times, but then realized that the stress had actually brought them closer together. "It's too tragic of a story. I can't burden her with the knowledge of how horrible my life was before I met her… Maybe, when she's older…"

"She'll be mature enough to handle it?" said Dumbledore finally. "Perhaps. I respect that you want to wait, but I would tell her now, if I were you."

Now, Snape was getting angry again. "And you'll tell me _your_ story, then?" he retorted bitterly. "About your mother and sister?" He knew he shouldn't have said that, and he knew it was horribly personal, but he didn't care.

The old man's face remained calm, but Snape thought he lost the twinkle in his eye. "Alas… That, I cannot tell you. But perhaps another time." His voice actually sounded somewhat shaky, and his smile forced. "Shall we go down to dinner? I could do with some sausage links."

* * *

At dinner, Vesperra looked up from her plate to see Professor Snape enter the Great Hall with Dumbledore, and her heart skipped a beat. _He just came from talking with Dumbledore… What if something important happened with Quirrell?_ Hopeful, she ate faster, as if it would speed up time so she could talk to Professor Snape sooner. And then, glancing at Quirrell, she noticed that he didn't look up from his plate at all.

_Professor Snape must have seen him doing something, and he knows it… so he's afraid to look him in the eye. Well, the git's always afraid to look people in the eye… Even me._

She had soon finished dinner and was heading back to her dorm, when someone seized her wrist from behind, stopping her. Vesperra was about to pull out her wand, but she suddenly recognized the large hand holding her wrist.

* * *

"Professor Snape!" said Vesperra with a slight more enthusiasm than she meant to as she whirled around.

"How'd you know it was me?" he wondered, as he hadn't even spoken her name yet.

"Who else could it have been?" She decided not to mention how there was no mistaking the feel of the hand that had held hers so many times.

"Hmm… Well, let's get going before everyone else leaves dinner." And he pulled her back in his direction, away from the dungeons.

"To the Room of Requirement?" she asked quietly, just in case there was anyone lurking around.

"Where else?"

Vesperra was so anxious to hear what was obviously very important that she didn't speak the rest of the way.

Snape had thought about just doing his usual Foe-Glass check and seeing if Quirrell was in his office or if the three headed dog was still growling, then telling Vesperra everything through the journal, but decided against it. This was too important to not tell her in person. Besides, Quirrell would have to be a bigger idiot than he thought to try anything after what happened. And if he was, they'd see it.

Eventually, they made it to the seventh floor corridor, walked past the wall three times, and got comfortable on the chairs. The Foe-Glass showed nothing but a faint shadow of Quirrell, who, if they were able to look through all the mist, was sitting at his desk.

"I confronted Quirrell again today." was the best way he could think of to start it off.

"Finally… haven't you been trying to for weeks?" said Vesperra as casually as she could with her heart pounding at the prospect of important news.

"Yes, but it didn't go as I had planned…" Hesitating for a moment, he figured he ought to ask, "Vesperra, do you know what Legilimency is?"

Racking her brain for any memory of ever hearing or reading that word, she couldn't find anything, and was forced to shake her head. It felt strange, not knowing something. And she hated it.

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to." said Snape, and Vesperra felt better at once. "It's the art of delving into another's mind, and for today's sake, I'll leave it as simple as that. I attempted to use it on Quirrell when he still refused to tell me anything, and he was able to push me out of his mind with Occlumency—basically the opposite of Legilimency, keeping others out of your mind. I was thrown back a few feet and hit my head against the floor, which knocked me out for a while—"

"_What?_" Vesperra panicked, eyes widening and moving to the back of his head, searching for blood oozing down his neck or any sizable lumps. Suddenly, immense hatred for Quirrell built up inside her, and showed in her eyes. _I'm going to kill him. I'm going to corner him in the classroom and torture him with—_

"My head's fine now. It didn't crack my skull or anything. But you did hear the rest of what I said, right?" Snape was somewhat frightened at the murderous look in her eyes, and was suddenly worried she'd be bent on revenge now.

But she wasn't. Not entirely, at least. "Yes, of course—Quirrell's hiding something. He must not want us to know the exact reason he's going against Dumbledore… But what could be so horrible that he wants to keep it from us _that_ much?"

Once again, Snape marveled at how quickly she was able to grasp something like this. Dumbledore was right; she deserved to know everything, because she'd definitely be able to help.

"I have absolutely no idea. And this is the part where we'll be stuck forever if we don't find that out before he finally figures out how to get past everything protecting the Stone."

"_If_ he actually figures out everything, you mean. Didn't you say there were lots of enchantments protecting it?"

"Yes, seven. And mine's the last. It's a logic puzzle, involving potions, of course… One wrong move could lead to your death. I doubt even you could figure it out, and you're brilliant." That last part was a lie (that she wouldn't figure it out, not that she was brilliant, because she was)—he was only saying it to reassure himself. _But Quirrell's nowhere near as smart as her… So does it matter?_ "Actually… you know what, I want you to try."

Thinking to the room, _I need parchment and a quill_, he took the ones that appeared and began sketching out his puzzle. Vesperra watched curiously, noticing how strained his face looked as he did. Finally, he handed her the piece of parchment, which had seven differently sized and shaped potion bottles drawn in a line, and a long riddle under it.

Reading the riddle, she made notes on the side of some of the potion bottles. As she thought it through, she scratched her nose with the end of the quill and stared intently at the parchment, sometimes rereading parts of it. Every time she thought of something, her eyes widened suddenly and briefly, and she wrote something above a bottle. Snape realized how quick her thought process really was, because after only about six minutes did she hand him the parchment back for approval.

In order from left to right, she labeled the potions _Poison, Nettle wine, Move forward, Poison, Poison, Nettle wine, Move back_. It was completely correct.

"Perfect." he told her, as if observing an essay or a potion she had just brewed. He couldn't force himself to say much more.

"But if I'm just a first year and _I_ can solve it, then−"

"You. Are. Brilliant. Much more than Quirrell, especially. Even Dumbledore says so." Snape wasn't sure if he was saying that to reassure her or himself.

As much as she loved to hear that and how true it was, it was still unnerving that she had a good chance of getting the Sorcerer's Stone, if she wanted. Well, if it weren't for the dog, anyway. But it didn't matter, because she wasn't going after it…

"Can you tell me more about Legilimency and Occlumency?" asked Vesperra, wanting to change the subject.

"Occlumency's very complicated and takes years to master, if you're thinking about learning one of them. I don't see any reason why you'd have to know it, anyway, because it's a rare art. Dumbledore and I are probably the only skilled Legilimens in Britain, so you wouldn't need protection from−"

"But what about Legilimency? That could be so useful, knowing people's thoughts and memories…" Vesperra imagined herself looking into Malfoy's mind and always knowing what he was about to say before he said it, or finding some memory he didn't want her to know…

"Legilimency is the offensive side of the art… and is even more complicated. Even if I did teach you, it would take years, and strenuous training. And we don't exactly have that much time this year." Snape saw behind her eyes a wicked look, and purposely left out the part about being able to control and unhinge another's mind as well. "Perhaps, if it is ever necessary… I will teach you. But not now."

Silently, Vesperra considered it. She could have sworn she saw him frown a bit when he said that… Was he afraid of the possibility of her having the ability to know what others were thinking? Did he not want her to have that sort of power?

"When did you learn it?" she asked before she could stop herself and change the subject.

"When I left Hogwarts− I taught myself." At least this was one thing he could tell her truthfully. If she asked why, however, then he'd have to lie. He had learned them while aspiring to be a Death Eater, and what would Vesperra say if he knew he used to work for Voldemort? "But don't go looking in books and trying to learn it." He didn't give her a reason, but it didn't matter. She'd do whatever he said, anyway.

"I won't." she replied, though somewhat disappointed. Then, a thought came to mind… He always seemed to know what _she_ was thinking… "You− you've never used Legilimency on _me_, have you?"

"No—Of course I haven't!" Snape said angrily. He was utterly shocked by her question. "Why would you think I'd _ever _do that to you? I reserve Legilimency for my worst enemies."

"Well… I don't know." Vesperra was somewhat frightened by his angry voice when it was directed towards her, and was sorry she ever asked the question in the first place. "But what if you thought I was lying to you, and wanted to make sure I wasn't?"

Snape knew it was an innocent question, but for some reason, it made him very angry. Not at her, though. At himself. "I would never believe, for one second, that you were lying to me. And even if you were…" He reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "I'd trust you have your reasons."

That made both of them feel a lot better. It reassured Snape that she'd feel the same way about him lying to her, and Vesperra was glad he trusted her so much. His tone had finalized that topic. There was no more to say about it. Only after silently watching the Foe-Glass for a while did Vesperra think of something else worth saying.

The thing they were talking about before… what Quirrell was hiding from them. He was hiding the reason for his sudden switch of loyalties. And there was one other thing he'd been hiding all year…

"Quirrell's turban." said Vesperra suddenly.

"What?"

"His turban. I'd bet a thousand Galleons his turban has something to do with the reason he's going after the stone, or how he's managing to get away from you all the time… If we could just find out what he's hiding under it…"  
"But after what happened today, he'll never let me near enough to make eye contact."

"Well, that's where I come in, isn't it?" Before Professor Snape could open his mouth wide enough to object, she continued. "I won't put myself in danger… But, what if I just _happened_ upon him alone in a corridor, and hexed it off of him? Or made it come unraveled on 'accident'?

"But he could curse you back!"

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"I'm _not_ willing to let you die!

That silenced her. Heart beating heavily, it felt as if each pound sunk deep into her chest in slow motion, and flew back out at double speed. Professor Snape was still holding onto her hand, but much tighter, and he was gripping the arm of the chair just as hard as he bent over it. His neck was craned downward to stare directly at her, and his hair was falling forward and was inches away from her face. In fear she stared up into his eyes, and forgot how to breathe.

"I'm sorry." she mouthed as hardly a whisper. "It was a stupid idea." She looked away, and tried to calm down as she stared at the Foe-Glass.

_No._ Vesperra was afraid of him, she wasn't looking at him. He hated the feeling that erupted so suddenly in his chest− what was it? Oh yeah, love.

"Look at me."

Slowly, she turned towards him, but couldn't speak anymore on account of the burning in her throat. Professor Snape had loosened his grip on her hand, and lowered himself to his original sitting position. Leaning on the arm of the chair with his elbows, he gazed at her with apologetic eyes.

"No, I'm sorry. And it wasn't a stupid idea… But we don't know what to expect with him. Quirrell knows more than he lets on, and he could curse you− badly. Catching him isn't worth putting you in danger. If that bastard did _anything_ to you, I'd go into a murderous rage and kill him, no matter who was around. And then I'd go to Azkaban."

Her throat stopped hurting at once. She knew he was serious about killing Quirrell, and furrowed her brow, imagining Professor Snape locked up in Azkaban. "Not if I killed him first."

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, knowing how vengeful she could be. Thinking back, he remembered what the argument had been about in the first place. "I do agree with you about his turban, though. It definitely has something to do with stealing the Stone… but we'll be lucky to discover what's under it."

"If we don't, we'll get him some other way. We have to."

"The year _is_ coming to a close… so I daresay we'll catch him soon enough."

_We…_ Vesperra was stuck on the fact he was referring to both of them. She wasn't just sitting there to spend time with him and being allowed to know what was going on so far. They were doing this as a team… together.

About a half an hour of staring at the Foe-Glass in silence later, Snape looked over to Vesperra. She was slumped against her chair with her head tilted towards him, sleeping. Letting a smile escape his lips, he called it a night and fell asleep on his chair as well.

* * *

Halfway into April, it was ten weeks until exams and all of the teachers started piling more and more homework on them. While she was able to manage all the extra work, the stress still caught up with Vesperra and she was much more irritable than usual. And there was still all the work that was being put into finding out what Quirrell's secret was and not coming up with any results. With classes, homework, talking to Professor Snape every night through the journals, and time in the Room of Requirement, she hardly had any time to herself. Sometimes, she even had to take her unfinished essays and books into the Room while they watched the Foe-Glass to finish there.

It seemed, however, that the other students weren't as stressed as she was. She didn't know how that was possible, though, seeing as they were less focused than her and spent more time with friends. Perhaps they just didn't care as much about passing all their classes as she did. More likely, they relieved most of their stress when they tortured her.

It was getting worse. Vesperra found it much more difficult to ignore when her mind was already so worn down by the stress of exams and Quirrell. The more she tried to block it out, the worse her headache became, and the more she wanted to curse them all. Luckily, she still had self-control.

One Monday morning, she was especially tired from having spent much of the night discussing Quirrell in the Room of Requirement with Professor Snape, and the rest of it finishing her Astronomy Chart that she meant to do earlier. While eating her toast, she seriously thought about just laying her head into her plate and going back to sleep.

"Why are _you_ so tired?" asked a shrill voice that jolted her awake. Looking up, she saw Pansy staring at her snobbishly from across the table, as well as many of the other Slytherin first years. She hadn't noticed them sit down… Ignoring her, she continued to eat her toast, but more alert now.

"Oh, she probably stayed up all night trying to wash the grease out of her hair…" drawled another voice, which belonged to Draco Malfoy, who was just walking past to sit at the table. He tried to tug on her hair, but his fingers ended up sliding through it, as the grease gave no resistance. Reacting instantly, she grabbed his wrist and pulled down—hard. Malfoy fell forward too fast for Crabbe or Goyle to catch him, but was able to hold his arms out to break his fall and turn his head to the side to keep from breaking his nose. What a shame…

For the rest of that breakfast, as well as every one before it, it seemed to all the others that their insults were simply bouncing off of her. In reality, she was absorbing each and every one of them… she just didn't say anything. They never got bored of that, even though all they got in return was an angry glare, but sometimes, they resorted to hexing her in the hallway. Usually, they got her with a Leg-Locker curse or a Jelly-Legs Jinx from behind when there were no teachers around, but it was nothing she couldn't handle… However, by the time she preformed the countercurse and saw who did it, a teacher usually walked into the vicinity, so she couldn't curse them back.

They had quickly learned to only hex her from behind, because otherwise, Vesperra would notice them pulling out their wand and jinx them before they could do anything. She often checked over her shoulder every few minutes, just in case, but thanked Merlin that no one ever tried a serious curse on her.

With Malfoy, Pansy and her friends, Dean, Seamus, and the various other people that hated her simply because she was cold hearted and were probably just looking for someone to bully hexing her every other day, she would walk past them in the corridors and wish so badly that she could bring herself to hex them as revenge. But to do so would be stupid at this point in time, since there was always the chance of a professor coming around the corner that very second, and her getting detention. And detention was the last thing she needed right now.

That morning, as she walked from the dungeons to Charms, her body resisted more and more to any movement, and she had trouble keeping her eyes open. She decided she'd head to the girl's bathroom for a second and splash cold water in her face—Yes, that would surely wake her up. Hardly seconds after making the decision, she felt something heavy hit her in the side, and it threw her off her feet, sending her to land somewhere off to the right. Pain exploded in her right arm, but she wasn't worried about anything being broken, since she didn't hear a _crack_.

Rotating her head as far as she could in that position, she saw Goyle, Malfoy, and Crabbe, in that order, standing at her feet. They weren't facing her, but rather had just turned their heads for a moment to see her reaction before they continued walking. It was obvious that Goyle was the one who pushed her, and Vesperra assumed it was under Malfoy's orders. _So the coward couldn't even push me over himself?_ she thought bitterly, realizing this was revenge for earlier. _And he just walks away… I could curse him. I could just pull out my wand and curse him right now... Make him have a seizure. _But she didn't, because there were witnesses. Instead, she glared at the back of their heads with the deepest of loathing, wishing that looks could kill. _If that were true, Potter would be dead at the hands of Professor Snape already. And so would Quirrell, at mine._

Speaking of Potter and Quirrell, the latter walked straight past her along with the rest of the students, except he wasn't glancing her way and laughing. He stared straight at her with a satisfied, yet frightened look on his face, and didn't seem to wonder nor care how she ended up on the floor. Then again, he probably saw it happen, since it was only seconds ago. As for Potter, he too seemed to be about to walk past, but strode towards her instead. Before he could get too near or readily extend his hand, Vesperra pushed herself off the floor and got to her feet in one swift movement. Already walking away, she glanced back at Potter, who retreated his hand and returned to the company of the ginger and the know-it-all. He stared back curiously, and she could have sworn she heard his friend say, "You shouldn't have tried to help her. All Slytherins are the same."

Vesperra only looked straight ahead from then until Charms class, and didn't bother going to the bathroom anymore, since her collision with the floor pretty much woke her up. _Why would Potter even want to help me? He doesn't even know me… And he should hate me anyway. It's probably just that Gryffindor 'noble' thing. And he does hate Malfoy… so the enemy of his enemy is a friend to him._ Oh, how wrong he was…

And Quirrell… _He's absolutely delighted to see me being pushed to the floor, isn't he? _The past few weeks, Quirrell had been even more of the bane of her existence, if that was possible. Or was it the other way around? Professor Snape had told her not to put herself in a risky situation with the man, but a classroom full of students wasn't exactly risky, was it? So, she had asked him for permission to make Quirrell's life in the classroom _hell_. Naturally, he said yes.

Vesperra never missed a chance to 'accidentally' step on the hem of his robes to trip him when she was leaving his classroom, and say silkily, "Sorry, Professor." Or when she arrived in class before even him, and cast _Ignimenta_ on one of his quills, so it would feel searing hot to him. On the rare days she'd had a chance to do that, he had picked up the quill, then given a yelp and threw it across the room. Then the other students would be confused, she'd undo the curse, and someone would pick it up and feel nothing. Quirrell was sure to be doubting his own sanity now, she hoped.

Other days, she'd simply use a spell to pull the blackboard forward a few inches when she was sure no one would notice, so Quirrell would back into it. Or stand some quills up on their ends so when he'd grab for them, they'd stab his hand. Aside from physical pain, whenever she had the chance, she'd stare at him as intently as if she were about to use Legilimency. Immediately, Quirrell would panic and look away… and she was sure he'd be more afraid to go after the Stone with every passing day.

But it was because of that that made it seem as though he knew she was behind everything. After a day of 'incidents' and humiliation from being laughed at by all the other Slytherin first years, he'd often fix her a nervous look. Either he knew he couldn't prove it or he was afraid to be alone with her, but he never tried to give her detention for it.

Luckily, she didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts that day. It was Double Charms with the Hufflepuffs, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Double Potions with the Gryffindors. She hoped the two full hours with Professor Snape would make up for the dreadful time she'd have with the Hufflepuffs.

"Everybody partner up, we're practicing Freezing Charms today." said Flitwick when everyone had sat down. Pansy immediately grabbed Tracey's arm, leaving Daphne to throw them a jealous look before frantically looking to Blaise and receiving a solemn nod. Theodore Nott reluctantly allowed Millicent Bullstrode next to him, but looked as if he might prefer Vesperra. Crabbe and Goyle were both staring at Malfoy, waiting to see who he'd pick, but he just smirked and shook his head.

"You guys partner up for a change. I'm taking Grease-perra." He folded his arms and left them to take quick strides over to her.

Gripping the edges of her table, she looked around for anyone else who didn't have a partner yet, but saw that everyone was taken. _Ugh. I'd rather partner with a Hufflepuff. _Malfoy sat down next to her, and gave her a would-be innocent smile. She scowled at him in return.

"You won't be freezing _each other_," Flitwick squeaked, seeing evil smirks and worried faces. "First, just throw these acorns−" He waved his wand, sending a couple acorns to each desk, "−into the air, and your partner will try to freeze it while it's in the air. Then switch. The incantation is _Immobilus_, and the wand movement is simply to point. You may begin."

Vesperra and Malfoy both eyed the acorn, then each other, wondering which would be brave enough to throw first, knowing the other would definitely rather use it on them instead of the acorn. Finally, Vesperra picked it up, and stepped a few feet back to keep herself well away from Malfoy. Having her wand ready to hex him if he tried anything, she tossed it high above her head.

Unexpectedly, he didn't aim his wand at her. Pointing it at the acorn at the climax of its flight, he muttered a spell, but it wasn't the Freezing Charm. Glancing up, she saw a tiny ball of fire falling towards her face—instinctively, she jumped back before her hair could ignite, and pointed her wand—"_Immobilus!_"

Stuck in midair, the flaming acorn remained ablaze in front of her face, and she gave Malfoy a look of pure venom.

"Oh, wow… I need more practice…" he said in a fake-innocent voice. Most of the other Slytherins giggled, but Flitwick exclaimed in excitement.

"Well done, Miss D'Monicas! But I suppose it's easier when your adrenaline's running… Nevertheless, ten points to Slytherin! And Malfoy, _do_ try to use the spell we're learning at the moment…"

Embarrassed, he continued to let Vesperra throw the acorn into the air (the one that wasn't scorched—that one was disposed of.) and didn't attempt anything but the Freezing Charm. He only managed to slow it down a little for a while, but then he got angry and his lack of focus started making it fall faster.

"Here, you try when it's not _on fire_!" he sneered maliciously, catching the acorn instead of freezing it and throwing it up in the air at once. Vesperra tried to aim, but missed on account of being caught off-guard and how fast it had gone through the air. The next couple times around, she slowed it down enough that it seemed to be light as a feather, but quickly got the hang of freezing it altogether.

Some of the other Slytherins had been freezing it every few tries, but were having trouble with consistency. Crabbe and Goyle, however, never made theirs do anything, except for the few times they somehow blasted it further up or across the room. They were hopeless without Malfoy… And a couple Hufflepuffs had nearly mastered it as well… but only Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott.

Once Vesperra had successfully frozen the acorn about twenty times in a row, instead of giving it back to her so he could have more practice, Malfoy started throwing it higher and faster, at which she gradually became accustomed to freezing it in more difficult circumstances. Eventually, he became so frustrated that he threw it far behind him, and it hit a Hufflepuff in the back of the head.

When the bell was about to ring, Flitwick rapped on a desk with his wand. "For your homework, practice! I expect you ready to try it on heavier things by Wednesday."

Transfiguration was much better, as usual, since McGonagall always preferred them to work alone. They had already started Transfiguring living things, but not vertebrates just yet. That day, they were attempting to turn earthworms into small cushions. After eight or so tries, she ended up with a pillow fit for a doll, but it didn't seem quite right yet… it still had too much of a worm-esque feel. So she used a Color-Changing Charm.

"I see Miss D'Monicas has Transfigured several worms… and changed their color from pink to black. Five points to Slytherin." McGonagall observed as the other students glared at her in jealousy. They should have been glad Vesperra had gotten then fifteen points today already, and it wasn't even lunch yet…

"Making presents for Snape, are you?" snickered Malfoy from a couple rows behind her, which she ignored. _What would he want with a bloody cushion anyway, even if it was black? Malfoy's just getting desperate now…_

Their homework was to practice if they hadn't gotten it right yet, which was pretty much everyone but her, and a foot and a half of parchment on what things a worm would not be able to transform into based on the limits of Transfiguration. A lunch period and an hour inside a greenhouse later, it was finally Potions.

* * *

Snape sat at his desk, with one leg crossed over the other and hands folded on his lap. He scowled at his hands, since there were no students in the classroom to scowl at yet. The creak of the dungeon doors brought him to reality, and Vesperra was the first to enter, walking sulkily as usual. She moved her gaze to him, and offered him a weak smile with her eyes that plainly said, _I'm having a bad day._

Once Vesperra sat down, most of the other Slytherins filed in, and then the Gryffindors. As Dean and Seamus took their spots at the table across the aisle from her, the latter set down his bag and immediately walked toward her. Pretending not to notice, she drummed the fingers of her right hand on the table and watched him out of her peripheral vision.

Seamus took firm footing close enough to her that his robes almost brushed hers, but didn't pull out his wand or even speak. Instead, he placed his right arm parallel to hers, and seemed to be comparing them for a while. Confused, Vesperra remained silent and waited for him to go away. Just when she was about to ask what the bloody hell he was doing, he started counting on his fingers—

"Has pale skin, greasy hair, thin as a bloomin' stick, never leaves the dungeons, sunlight burns her, drinks the blood of her enemies… Yes, this _proves_ she's a vampire!"  
"I'm pretty sure she has fangs too, mate." said Dean as-a-matter-of-factly.

Seamus peered over to check if she did indeed have fangs, but she shut her mouth after realizing she had been baring her teeth.

Snape had been watching from his desk, but couldn't hear exactly what Finnigan was saying (or if he was saying anything) from the very front of the classroom. All he knew was that it was irritating her, and she'd obviously like him to just go away. Without having to know the situation, he already knew that he'd like to stride over there at once, grab Finnigan by his hair, and shove him back to his desk. But there was really no way to go about doing that without embarrassing her. Sure, the students would respect and fear him for the moment, but once they were well away from him, they'd tease and torment her for being "Snape's favorite" or because she was just relying on him to save her… or because she had a crush on him. Which he was sure she didn't.

It wasn't 3:30 yet, but the room seemed to be full, so he stood up to go and fully close and lock the door to signal that the two hours of inescapable torture had begun, when it was pushed open all of a sudden, and hit his nose with a considerable _thump_ (At least it wasn't a_ crack_, or whoever was behind the door would be dead at the hands of Vesperra, who had assured him she rather liked his hooked, convex nose). Standing back, he allowed the door to swing its full arc, revealing Potter, Weasley, and Granger on the other side, who all seemed to have just realized what they had done.

"Sorry P-professor..." the Granger girl stuttered fearfully. "We didn't—"

"Silence—" Snape ordered nasally on account of his nose hurting too much to raise his voice. "You three are late. Five points from Gryffindor—each. Now take your seats at once, before I make it ten each."

Gulping, the three scuttled to their stools and hastily got out their cauldrons and scales. Snape glazed his eyes over the now silent class, noticing that rather than glaring at Potter for losing so many points before class had even started, all the Gryffindors were scowling at _him_ for being so unfair. Well, they hadn't really been late. But they had nearly broken his nose, and that sort of thing tended to make him quite angry… The Slytherins, however, were either smiling unpleasantly or, in Vesperra's case, casting him a knowing look and smiling only with her eyes, which anyone else would have confused for a perturbed expression.

_Fifteen points from Gryffindor… still about a hundred points until we're ahead of them, but it's a start. _Vesperra thought, wishing Slytherin would win enough points soon to overtake Gryffindor like it had for the past seven years. And then she glared at the back of the famous trio's heads for almost breaking Professor Snape's nose, which she saw that he was now taking a quick swig of a potion for. Seamus had returned to his spot with Dean, since Professor Snape's menacing voice was now echoing through the dungeon, telling them all to turn in their essays from last week and explaining the Blood-Strengthening Solution they'd be working on today.

Vesperra was glad to be left alone to work on her potion, but that day's events—being shoved to the ground, having Malfoy try to set her on fire, and of course, the need for sleep returning quickly when she needed it least to happen, were catching up to her. She was considering slapping herself in the face as hard as possible when Professor Snape's voice called her consciousness into full view.

"_This_, Potter, is more likely to _thin_ your blood." he sneered as he happened upon the boy's cauldron, which contained a very watery potion, much unlike what it should have been. "Tell me, did you even _add_ the gillyworm scales− _the first ingredient in the directions_?"

Snape would have relished the pitiful shake of Potter's head and him mumbling something about thinking it said 'fluxweed', if it weren't for the fact that this potion had been extremely easy for the boy's mother. He had shown Lily how to create this a year before they came to Hogwarts, and she caught on so quickly… How was it that _she_ could have been so talented in potions, but her son was so hopeless? Letting out his grief, he continued to point out every fault in Potter's potion, with no intention of leaving soon enough for him to fix it before it was too late.

Vesperra laughed inwardly at the famous Potter being berated for his dunderheadedness, but didn't hear much more than the first insult, since her attention was immediately drawn to the sniggers coming from her left, which were slowly getting louder.

"—course… She's paler than me, and I'm bloody Irish!" said Seamus, who seemed to want Vesperra to hear it now that Professor Snape was busy. After a brief laughing fit, he peered inside his cauldron, then at the board, then at her, then back to his cauldron. "Okay, let that simmer…" And the trailing off meant he was heading over to her again.

"Hey, let me see—" But he had been reaching for her left sleeve and trying to pull it down to reveal just how pale the rest of her skin was, and she wrenched her arm away before he could, then pulled the sleeve back up all the way. Seamus appeared somewhat frightened and confused at her sudden, frantic response, and backed away without another word.

This, Snape saw. Moving on after he could think of nothing else to say to Potter about his awful excuse for a potion, he had glanced up to Vesperra in order to calm down a bit. He saw Finnigan try to pull down her sleeve for some reason, and she suddenly had a wild, panicking look in her eyes, and jerked her arm away. As Finnigan backed off, she quickly pulled the sleeve all the way up, and seemed disturbed as she returned her complete focus to her cauldron. It was as if there was something on her arm she didn't want seen…

_No. It couldn't be… She's eleven. It's impossible._ Pushing those thoughts away, he figured it was only a coincidence. _Besides, Vesperra likes her personal space, so she just overreacted to someone touching her. That's it._ Then, he remembered how she didn't mind _him_ holding her hand at all, or hugging her, or kissing her forehead…

The Blood-Strengthening Solution was coming along smoothly, but Vesperra's head was pounding. When it came time to let it simmer for a few minutes, she had nothing to distract her from the unrelenting pain in her temples. All she could do was grip the edges of the table until she could take the cauldron off the fire and add the ribwort.

Whilst stirring many minutes later, her headache hadn't subsided in the least bit. At least she could focus on her potion for the moment, and get a Calming Drought from Professor Snape at the end of class...

"Hey—Seamus, we forgot one!" said Dean Thomas as if continuing a conversation, which Vesperra guessed he was, but had just decided to say this part loud enough for her to hear. But then he lowered his voice, so as to not be heard by anyone but the few surrounding people. "She fancies an overgrown bat—takes one to know one…" He quickly checked over his shoulder, presumably to make sure Professor Snape wasn't anywhere near them.

"Oi, Neville!" Seamus said to the boy in the table behind him, who was so startled that he almost knocked his cauldron over. Vesperra wanted so much to ignore them, but just in case they tried anything, had stepped to the side at an angle so she could see everything that was going on. "You s'pose she's a vampire?" He jerked a thumb at her.

Neville didn't reply, but instead stood stiffly with a foreboding expression. Looking as though he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if she _was_ a vampire, he gave a nervous shake of his head, and began to add Salamander eyes—

He had obviously just added the wrong ingredient, because billowing smoke started drifting off his cauldron at once, resulting in uproar.

Snape had just been passing over Zabini's cauldron without a word, since he couldn't find anything wrong with it, when he noticed acid-green smoke out of the corner of his eye… And _of course_, it was over by Longbottom. In five long strides, he was close enough to the cauldron to see through the smoke and aim his wand at it. With a stiff flourish of his wand, the potion and the smoke had vanished.

"You _idiot!_" he snarled at Longbottom, who was tearing at the eyes and coughing hysterically. "Apparently, I can't trust you not to destroy everything you touch… Five points from Gryffindor, you have a zero for today, and you will hand in a two-foot essay on the effect of each ingredient in this potion _and_ where you went wrong by Friday." The boy covered his face in his hands to hide his tears, and Snape couldn't stand to look at him anymore.

Watching Professor Snape make Neville cry was as good as any Calming Draught, and Vesperra felt a smirk attempting to creep onto her lips. Sure that everyone was focused on the former and would not see, she almost let it, but her unconventional satisfaction was interrupted by a hissing voice.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Malfoy said, now alarmingly close, as he was leaning halfway across his table to get his head nearer to her. "and I have to agree with them, even if one of them's a Mudblood."

This ignited a flame of anger, but she wasn't sure why. For some reason, Vesperra always hated that word—Mudblood. She didn't care in the least bit about blood purity, and it never sat well with her that many wizards and witches were ostracized simply for being something they couldn't control. And to give them a horrible name like that, implying everyone else was better than them… It sickened her. Now that she thought about it, it made a lot of sense.

"My father's a school governor, you know." Malfoy continued, "And he could get you expelled… I'm sure a lot of parents would be glad, anyway. They wouldn't want their kids around a greasy vampire like you… it's just not safe." He now wore the same, would-be-innocent smile he had had earlier in Charms, but there was much more wickedness to it.

_One more word out of your mouth, and I will slice your neck with my dagger until you die of blood loss._ thought Vesperra. She couldn't say it out loud, since she was sure that if she opened her mouth, she'd undoubtedly bite Malfoy's head off. So she tried to convey it through the look in her eyes. Gritting her teeth so hard it hurt, she saw him open his mouth again, and gripped her potions dagger in case she needed it.

"And what's on your—"

Vesperra guessed he was about to say "left arm," since he had immediately stretched further across his table to grab it, but he wasn't able to finish. The moment one of his fingers touched her wrist, though on the outside of her sleeve, white-hot pain ran through her forearm like a coil, and she jerked it away. Dropping her dagger which landed on the floor with a clatter, her right hand flew to clutch her inner left arm, as if drawn by a powerful magnet. Not a single yelp of pain escaped her gritted teeth, but her eyes shut tight as a reflex. After a few seconds stretched into forever, the pain subsided enough that she could let go of her arm and open her eyes.

At the far edges of the room, some hadn't noticed, but Vesperra knew for sure that Dean, Seamus, Neville, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all staring at her with expressions of mingled confusion and horror. All the pain had suddenly left, though, so she treated it as nothing and returned to her potion. She had left it unattended for a bit too long, so it might not end up as perfect as usual…

As Snape sneered and turned away from Longbottom, he could only catch sight of Malfoy reaching out across the walkway between his and Vesperra's tables before it happened—Vesperra's hand shot to her left forearm, and her face contorted in pain. It was almost as horrible as the way she looked all that time ago, when she was thrashing in her sleep… but not quite. Seconds later, she seemed to be perfectly fine, and was working on her potion again. The others who were bewildered by her sudden clutching of her arm soon gave up on staring at her and returned to their potions as well.

_No, that's…_ Snape felt the place where the Dark Mark was permanently etched on his skin absentmindedly, and mentally berated himself for thinking, even for a moment, that it could be possible. _Mine hasn't burnt in years… But what on Earth was that about?_ He gave her a calculating look, attempting to search his brilliant mind for an explanation. He couldn't find one.

Casually making his way towards Vesperra (though each step felt like dragging a heavy load across the floor), he glanced at the ground where the silver dagger still lay at her feet. He bent down and quickly picked it up, then set it down in front of her.

"You dropped this, Miss D'Monicas." she heard Professor Snape say. Vesperra looked up, and was startled to see the searching look in his eyes.

"Thank you, Professor." replied Vesperra shortly, watching him walk away without even commenting on her potion. Trying to shrug it off, she paid it no attention, but it was all very confusing. _Could it have something to do with…?_ Her thoughts trailed off as she measured out the last ingredient, especially since she didn't want to think about that now. After the incident a couple minutes prior, she seemed to be floating away, out of all the day's stress. Perhaps it had all built up, and then… exploded. Whatever had happened, it was gone now. And she was grateful.

Snape didn't know what to make of it. She had seemed calm… as if it never happened. In fact, she now appeared much calmer than she had been earlier. And not a single glint in her eyes gave away anything. That was it, then. He'd have to ask her.

Vesperra could tell it was almost the end of the class without needing a clock, because everyone around her seemed very fidgety and eager to leave. It was either because they were afraid of her, or they were afraid of Professor Snape… probably both. Or maybe it was because the potions classroom, which was a long, dark room, dimly lit by torches on the walls and a greenish light from the slit-like windows on the ceiling, was highly depressing. And when you have Professor Snape as a Potions Master, quite scary… And when you're Vesperra, it feels like home.

Filling a flask and clearing up, she waited patiently at her table for the bell to ring. She'd like very much to stay and perhaps spend some time with Professor Snape, but he had duties, she had homework, and she wasn't going to waste any time for either of them. As she passed his desk on her way out of the dungeons, he stepped in front of her and closed the door.

"Vesperra," Snape didn't waste any time in asking, "What happened today?"

She didn't say anything for a moment, but just stood where she was, and looked down. Professor Snape stepped closer to her and pressed further, "What's on your arm?" Her stress returned to her somewhat, and she hesitated. Staring up into his black eyes, which were cold yet concerned, she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and set it down on his desk. Then, she stuck her left arm out and slowly pulled up the sleeve.

He didn't know what he expected to see, but it sure wasn't this. On Vesperra's arm, curving from her wrist to her elbow, was a long, thin, dark red scar that looked as if she'd had it a while. Her arm was trembling slightly as she showed it to him, and he couldn't blame her. It had obviously just caused her a great deal of pain.

Vesperra was about to let go of her sleeve, but he dropped to his knees and softly grabbed her arm, pushing the sleeve up so he could get a closer look at it. Against her pale skin, the scar appeared to be a deeper red than it was, and he half believed it was about to start bleeding. Snape ran his thumb up and down the scar, and was careful not to press down too hard. He couldn't believe he had never seen this before… but then again, she was never underdressed in front of him.

Watching Professor Snape examine her scar, she felt a bit sorry for him. It was strange, since she was the one who had the scar, but she hated to see him so worried. Finally, he looked up and locked his eyes with hers, still holding her arm, and asked the inevitable question.

"How did you get this?"

Vesperra inhaled deeply, so as to calm down before she searched the realm of memories that she never liked to reenter. Professor Snape seemed to be able to tell, since he looked a bit sorry for having asked the question, but she began the story nevertheless.

"It happened when I was eight. My parents were arguing, and—well, it wasn't really _arguing_… They were yelling at each other, and… throwing things." Snape noticed she didn't meet his eyes when she said that part. "I think it was because I had accidentally made something happen by magic, and my father didn't like it… But I'm not sure. I-I really don't want to remember it, anyway."

Vesperra paused, thinking hard of the rest of what had happened, since it had been so long since she even tried to think about it. The memory was coming back in pieces, and she couldn't make sure they were in order. Finally, after minutes of silence and nothing but Professor Snape's patient breathing, she continued.

"My parents were in the kitchen, and I was somewhere off to the side, watching. I really didn't _want_ to watch or hear any of it, but to get to my room, I had to get past them, and I didn't want to go anywhere near them. They were getting too loud and I was crying, just wishing they'd stop… but I didn't dare tell them that, because my father started picking up fruit and throwing them at my mum, and I didn't want anything thrown at me. Mum had her wand out and was blasting everything he threw at her, but that only made him angrier because she was using magic… But then, I got really angry because he just expected her to take it lying down, and a whole kitchen drawer suddenly shot out at him, and knocked him to the ground. It hit him in the side, and broke one of his ribs, I think. Whether it did or not, he didn't care at the moment, because he got back up immediately. And he must have thought my mum did it, because he yelled at her for trying to kill him, then picked up one of the huge kitchen knives and threw it at her…" Vesperra's voice seemed very choked now, but her eyes were still perfectly dry, Snape noticed.

"But she blocked it with a spell, and it flew sideways—at me. I had just stood up a second before so I could get behind the couch, so as soon as I saw the knife flying in my direction, I did the only thing I could think of… I shielded my eyes with my arm. And… and then…" She ran one finger up her scar. "I turned and it grazed my arm—and the knife kept flying until it hit the wall. I screamed, and it started bleeding… and my parents stopped yelling so my mother could get some bandages. She was really angry with me since it was my fault my dad threw a knife at her, and said it—it was my own fault I was nearly killed. And my dad… he… he wouldn't even look at me for months. I don't know if he just hated me, or if he was scared I'd use more magic on him…"

Vesperra choked on her words, because she was trying so hard not to cry and her throat was swelling up. Jaw trembling, she saw that Professor Snape was running his thumb softly up and down her scar again, and while he was stone-faced, he was crying. The feel of his thumb on her scar was strangely calming, and she brought herself to continue.

"It used to hurt when I was really angry or upset… but today was the first time it's hurt since before I came to Hogwarts. I don't know why it should have, though, except I've been really stressed lately—"

"Vesperra, you said this happened when you were eight?" Professor Snape asked in a suspicious voice, making her somewhat confused.

"Y-yes, why?"

"Because that was around the time you started thrashing in your sleep." It all came together in his head. This horrible event happens, and suddenly she starts having nightmares (as she had told him through the journals at one point), then finds out she's been having night _terrors_. And after he started giving her the potion to stop her from having them, which was early in the year, her scar didn't hurt at all.

"I was supposed to give you your potion on Saturday, but I didn't." Snape realized, a bit angry. "And since you were so stressed today… Vesperra, why didn't you tell me about this before? Didn't you think it might have been the cause of you thrashing in your sleep?" He stared at her imploringly, which brought droplets of tears to her eyes, but they did not fall.

"It never occurred to me." she said in a small voice.

This sparked a horrible look in Professor Snape's eyes… something mingled with rage and sadness. "Dammit Vesperra, yes you did!" Jerking her wrist toward him, he leveled her left arm out to keep the sleeve from falling down over it, and pulled out his wand.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if I can cure this. You do _want_ it gone, don't you?"

She tried to say something in her defense, but the breath had left her lungs at the angry look on his face. So instead, she just nodded, and watched him point his wand at her scar and mutter under his breath. Every once in a while, he stopped to think, and muttered something like, "Should have told me" or "If I had known before…"

Nothing seemed to work. The scar didn't become any thinner or paler, no matter what he did. But he wasn't going to give up… Gripping her wrist and pulling it closer, he tried the same healing spells, but focused harder.

Breathing in brief gasps, Vesperra was getting scared. For Professor Snape to be angry at her was the last thing in the world that she wanted…

"You're gripping my wrist too hard." she choked out, finally letting tears leave her eyes. He really was—if he held it any tighter, it would have broken her bones. And he realized it, too, but only at that moment. Her strangled voice brought him back to his senses, and he loosened his grip, defeated. There was absolutely no spell that would work. Snape forced his gaze up from her scar and to her face, and almost started crying again the moment he saw it.

Letting go of her all of a sudden, he stood up and went to his private stores. Almost immediately he returned with a small bottle, and knelt back down in front of her. He handed her the bottle, which she took at once and sipped.

"It's all I can do. That scar… it must be cursed. Your father threw it out of pure hatred, and your mother blocked it with a spell… out of pure hatred…" Snape was realizing this as he said it, and had to pause and think for a moment. "Dark magic springs from that kind of hate, so dark magic holds your scar together… I still don't know why you couldn't have _told_ me, though. You tell me everything else."

Frowning at how his voice had gone strangely tense with that last question, she answered, "Because of what you _just_ said! I _knew_ there was no way you could do anything about it… And I knew it must have been cursed if it always hurt like that. It would only worry you, and then you'd feel worse because you couldn't help—and I don't want you to feel like that…" Vesperra was still crying, but softly now.

"We've had this conversation before, haven't we?" said Snape.

"Yes… we have. I guess we're even now," she replied, trembling. "But I'm sorry too. I should have told you… but I just couldn't. I wish it never happened… or at least that I didn't remember it. I never think about it, and I've pretty much blocked the memory of all but the fact that I have it, and that I don't want people to see it. It was really hard to remember the whole thing just so I could tell you…"

Snape reached out a hand, caressed her face for a moment, then pulled her close to him. She accepted the hug thankfully, and buried her nose in his neck as she cried and wrapped her arms around it. He pressed his nose into her neck as well, and held her as he wept silently—Wept for how sorry he was that he made her tell him all that, and how much her father hated magic and pretty much everything she and her mother _were_, and how all she wanted to do was get away, just get away from all of it… and how both her parents resented her for it. And most of all, for how her home life had been no different from his.

For this, he completely understood why she never told him. How could she have possibly told him that not only was she neglected, but absolutely hated by the only family she had? He never wanted to tell Lily the truth of how much he was beaten, or about how he was reduced to a crying heap in the corner of the room, covering his ears while his father screamed and his mother cowered in fear. It seemed, however, that Vesperra's parents were even worse, especially since the real abuse was coming from the one that used magic.

Vesperra melted in his arms, wishing he'd never have to let go of her. She felt weak, unable to hold her own body up, and vulnerable. Soon, her trembling ceased, but it was only when she allowed herself to go limp against him. After admitting all that had happened—the one thing she never wanted to tell anybody, the only source of comfort was Professor Snape's nose deep in her neck and his arms around her back, and the fact that her neck was getting soaked because he was crying too. There was no doubt that he hated that all that had to happen to her, and hated even worse that he couldn't do a thing about it. But she knew he wanted to, and that made all the difference. It suddenly felt perfectly okay that he was the only person that cared about her, because he was all she needed. She could care less if her parents or anyone else ever looked her way again.

For both of them, it felt so strange that they had woken up that morning (though Vesperra hadn't really woken up at all) with no inkling that any of this was going to happen. Neither of them could have possibly known that they'd end up crying in each other's arms by the end of the day, and it felt even stranger that the day wasn't even over yet.

Vesperra suddenly felt her feet leave the floor, and Professor Snape was still holding onto her.

"My knees were hurting." he said, reluctantly putting her down as well.

"It's fine." But it ached to stand up on her own, and to have the air around her empty on all sides. Even more than it could ache to kneel on the hard, dungeon floors.

Wiping his eyes, he put a hand on Vesperra's neck to wipe his tears off of it and straighten her disheveled hair.

"Shall we go to dinner?"

She smiled. "Sure, but you have to go in a couple minutes before me."

Straightening her robes and regaining her balance, she followed him out of the dungeons.

* * *

**So now you know... _That's_ Vesperra's worst memory. And Quirrell knows Occlumency? Well, that's going to make things a lot harder for them. But they'll get some clues eventually. Also, I noticed after finishing this chapter that I haven't been putting in as many of their nightly conversations through the journals (They still have them, but I just haven't been having specific scenes for them, since they weren't all that important), but there'll definitely be a lot more in the next chapter.**

**And speaking of the next chapter: Dragon Rumors, Something in the Forest, Loads of Points From Gryffindor**

**There's only one or two chapters left, which means this year is coming to a close, and soon I'll be able to start Book 2! *excited***

**Please rate and review, I really want to know what you think of this chapter!**


	13. Book 1: Chapter 13

**It's taken a week, and I am super excited to present you with Chapter 13. Siriusly, I'm hyperventilating right now. This is the second to last chapter... for Book 1, that is. Anyway, I'll give you some insight on what you're about to read. With not much to do, Snape and Vesperra are pushed to more... _whimsical_ forms of entertainment. And of course, exams are near. Some of the stuff in here is inspired by how I feel when I have to study for exams. Well, enjoy!**

* * *

The Easter holidays had not been very kind to them. Quirrell seemed to have completely disappeared from Hogwarts during those few days, and no one had any idea where he was.

"Teachers do have free reign to leave the castle as they please, especially during breaks," Snape explained to himself as much as Vesperra as he paced across the Foe-Glass in the Room of Requirement one day, "but I'd bet you everything that he's up to something outside school—finding out how to get to the Stone, or… or purchasing some sort of weapon…"

"Or he might just want to avoid you," said Vesperra. "after all that's happened. He doesn't need an excuse to leave, and it's only suspicious to _us_ that he has… I wouldn't blame him for wanting to stay as far away from us as possible."

"We _are_ quite intimidating… but apparently not enough for him to give up the Stone altogether…"

"Well, why not benefit from the time that he's gone, and go raid his office?"

Snape almost laughed, but gave a sort of half-grimace, half-smirk. "I've already tried that, and I found nothing." Frustrated, he sank into his chair and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair.

Vesperra gave a defeated sigh and reached over the arm of her chair and into her bag, pulling out several rolls of parchment, a couple books, a quill, and an ink bottle. "I might as well use this time to get my homework done, if we haven't got any leads." Holding her quill in her mouth while unscrewing the lid off her ink, she sorted out her notes.

"Must you do all that now?" asked Snape incredulously, "You're trying to do too much at once, and overworking yourself. If Quirrell's out of the castle and we can't do anything about it, we should relax. Maybe it'll help us think better."

"I was just about to do _your_ assignment—questions on the potions we've done the past month." Vesperra didn't even look up from her parchment, which she was already quickly scrawling in answers to, spilling a drop of ink here and there on her robes."

Snape reached over and placed a hand on the few rolls of parchment she had laying on a book on her lap, at which she looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows at her, as if to ask, "May I?", so she nodded. Taking them, he skimmed the first page, and then the back, and then the next full page, and then the back of that…

"Did I really give you all this?" he asked in a small voice, continuing to turn the parchment over and frown at the text. Receiving another nod, he still didn't give them back. "Forty questions… I really _am_ terrible, aren't I?" There was no doubt that mostly all the students hated him, and even the Slytherins hated how much homework he gave them, but he didn't care. But there was also no doubt he felt bad about it when Vesperra was on the other end of the stick.

"Terrible?" she asked with a smirk. _Terribly handsome._ "Of course, but I love it."

"You're already under a lot of stress anyway, so I'll exempt you from all my assignments." said Snape as he straightened the parchment back together.

"What? No—It's not that much stress, really. It wouldn't even take that long—I've got my notes, and I've pretty much memorized a lot of our potions anyway—"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't have to do the assignment in the first place. You already know all of it—you're the best student in my class. And you have enough on your plate, what with Quirrell and the Stone."

Vesperra would have argued further, except she found no reason to. The less schoolwork she had, the more time she could devote to helping Professor Snape, and the sooner Quirrell would be caught—or dead. Or both.

"Fine… but that still leaves…" she flipped through one stack of parchment, reading off titles, "An essay on Goblin rebellions in the fourteenth century and the conflicts with Muggles it caused for History of Magic, some review questions for this term in Herbology, and an essay on classifying zombies for Quirrell." She practically spat his name, and noticed Professor Snape scowl at it.

"Have you noticed any… suspicious patterns in Quirrell's assignments?"

"If I had, I would have told you…" answered Vesperra, who had put Quirrell's assignment at the bottom of the stack to do last, and was now flipping through _A History of Magic_, eyes focused on the pages rather than Professor Snape. "But no, I haven't, except for the fact that it's quite easy. Perhaps he doesn't put much effort into creating our assignments, with all the time he spends trying to figure out how to get past the dog. Or maybe it's just me."

Snape suspected it was just her, mostly because she was brilliant. "And that bastard hasn't been unfair in grading your assignments, has he? I wouldn't be surprised, since he has every reason to have a grudge against you."

"I'm sure he hates me, though definitely not more than I hate him, but he's not that stupid." Vesperra answered while dipping her quill in ink. "If he marked my essays unfairly, he knows I'd confront him about it. The last thing he wants is to be stuck alone in a room with me... except to be stuck alone in a room with both of us." A nasty grin crept up her lips at the thought of her and Professor Snape cornering Quirrell in a room, and him being so scared that he wet his pants.

"Hmm…" Snape would have asked her every other question that popped into his mind, but none did in the first place. They were truly stuck at this point, with no questions except the ones to which they were currently searching the answers for. And Vesperra was busy anyway… He decided to leave her to her homework. She'd be a lot less stressed once she finished it, and then perhaps they could play some wizard's chess, or just talk about miscellaneous things…

History of Magic was the only class where Vesperra didn't take notes, so she always had to refer to the textbook instead. Then, she made some notes inside the book herself, which was much easier than listening to Professor Binns's horribly boring drone. It was narcotic enough for anyone, but rather than lulling you to sleep like Professor Snape's voice late at night, it bored you into a stupor so deeply that the only way your mind knows to escape it is unconsciousness.

Her essay didn't take too long to finish; she only had to read through the chapter corresponding to the exact topic she was writing on, and think of a good way to summarize it. That was how most of the essays for that class worked, since the subject itself wasn't very exciting. Vesperra excelled at all of her subjects, but that's because it was magic. She wasn't going to fool around and let her focus waver when there was _magic_ to be learnt. Her father had constantly been saying the last summer how learning magic at Hogwarts would be useless, but every single thing they were taught here was terribly useful. Except for History of Magic.

It might have been somewhat interesting if taught by someone that wasn't dead, but she just couldn't see the use in learning about all the conflicts between goblins and wizards and Muggles and all that. Precious few occupations in the Wizarding World called for extensive knowledge of that sort of thing, and Vesperra could only guess that a life with such a job would be horribly boring. Nevertheless, she pored through the chapter, and forced her focus only to the essay.

Herbology homework was always ridiculously easy—she didn't even have to glance at her notes for most of it. _Probably because the teacher's a Hufflepuff…_ Vesperra figured as she reluctantly put the finished Herbology questions at the back of the stack, which brought Defense Against the Dark Arts to the front. _And they're always pushovers._

It was quite interesting to watch Vesperra doing her homework, as Snape had noticed when he had nothing better to do than lean back and stare at her. He could always tell when she found a question particularly easy, because her eyes had a strange, softened look and she pursed her lips into a half-smirk. Although, he wasn't sure if she visibly thought this way in her classes, because he knew she made a conscious effort to not smile in front of anyone but him.

Then, when she was brooding on what to write next, she'd tilt her head to the left a bit and run her fingers through her hair, from root to tip, and sometimes rub her neck as if it ached, even though he doubted it did. When she did that, she'd often close her eyes for a moment, like she was trying to remember something. Snape couldn't help but think of the day a couple weeks prior, when he had found out about her scar, and they ended up crying into each other's necks. He couldn't imagine how his abnormally large, hooked nose would feel comforting, digging into her tiny neck, but it must have.

Neither of them had mentioned that day since it passed, which was good, since neither of them wanted to. Snape knew that Vesperra hated to have to bring that memory up in the first place, and he wasn't going to press her to talk about it again. Generally, they just ignored that it ever happened at all, even though Vesperra sometimes caught him glancing at her left arm, and other times, seemingly absentminded, stroking the scar over her robe sleeve with the back of his knuckles. Not that she minded it.

Finally, Snape watched her expression turn to disgust as she started on Quirrell's paper, and then somewhat back to her "this is easy" expression, though there was an extra look of malice as she wrote her essay, hardly needing to consult her notes. Within the next forty-five minutes, she seemed to have exhausted her resources and filled the roll of parchment with her tiny handwriting, so she gave a sigh of relief and rolled up each assignment separately, sealed them, then put them away in her bag along with her books, notes, quill, and ink.

"Done." said Vesperra at once, sinking into her chair and turning to Professor Snape, who was already doing the same, though he looked as if he'd been that way for a while. "Sorry to keep you waiting—you must be bored out of your mind."

"No, not bored at all…" he assured her, straightening himself up in the chair, "You've unnaturally good focus, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Most students would do half of an essay, then go take a break, or procrastinate, and then come back later to finish it, and they'd still take much longer than you… But you just pick up a quill and do all of it at once, without stopping, and you can still think more than clearly enough. A lot of grown wizards have trouble focusing that hard for that long, Vesperra… Do you ever get headaches while doing your work? Or ever even need a break?"

Vesperra frowned and exhaled briefly, to let out sort of a laugh. "Actually, yes—I do. Sometimes, when I think, I take it as a few minutes to relax, too… But I don't like to lose my train of thought, because that makes it more difficult to be consistent in my essay—so I'm still focusing when I relax—just… not as much."

Having an inkling as to what she thinks about in order to relax, and proud of her brilliance all the same, he smiled—but just barely. He couldn't help but think of the likenesses she shared with Lily… They were both extremely smart, and worked very hard… And they both cared about him a lot. But Lily was inexplicably kind, which was one of the things he loved the most about her—and also hated the most. She had been so nice to him despite how horrible he was to everyone but her, but he'd rather she had been nice to only him. Then they could have had each other to themselves, like he and Vesperra did.

Vesperra, well, was the exact opposite of Lily in that sense. She was never kind to anyone but him, and in fact hated everyone else. And she had a good reason, too—everyone else hated her. Snape couldn't remember anyone ever hating Lily except for the Slytherins that hated all Muggle-borns—she was just too likeable. Not that Vesperra was unlikeable, but she was just hateful. Hateful, bitter, lonely…

Well, that was why she needed him. And he, her.

"We could play Wizard's Chess, I suppose." Snape suggested, as she was done with all of her work and they both knew Quirrell wasn't in the castle.

"Okay," said Vesperra as she slid off her chair and went to get the Wizard's Chess set from a table near them. "But we should make it more interesting."

A smirked played upon Snape's lips as he thought of a wager they could use. They couldn't bet money, as he was sure she didn't have any… _Loser has to do the other's homework or grade the other's papers for a week? No, neither of us would want to put extra work on each other… So, nothing involving work…_

For Vesperra, one bet came to mind—but she didn't dare speak it aloud. _Loser has to kiss the winner…?_ She hadn't any idea why she thought of it in the first place, and silently urged the thought to go away. But the more she did that, the more she wanted to actually use that as their bet. _If we did that, then no matter what, we'll kiss at some point—_she thought frantically, trying to think rationally so she'd let go of that idea. _Exactly._

"The _loser_… must drink an entire glass of undiluted firewhiskey." said Snape at last, taking his seat on the floor and setting up his chess pieces. Then, he realized it might not be so safe to let her drink that much… And by the look in her eyes, she seemed to be thinking so as well. "Don't worry—if you end up losing, I'll stay with you, in case it's a little too much to handle… Sorry, I just couldn't think of anything else… unless you have a better idea?" He didn't mean it as a challenge, but rather, he truly wanted to see what she would think of. Because part of him would hate to see her in a drunken state—well, all of him.

The idea that had wormed its way into her mind and refused to leave had now officially taken up residence, and it was still the only thing Vesperra could think of. Naturally, she treated it as if it weren't there, however difficult it was to ignore.

"No, I don't." she lied, finishing the set-up of her chess pieces. "And don't let me win."

It was one of Vesperra's pawns that struck the first casualty to Snape's side, but things were mainly even for a while. Thinking ten moves ahead and taking her time with every move, she began to get the better of him, despite what Snape thought was a fool-proof strategy. Every couple minutes or so, they glanced up to check on the Foe-Glass. At last, Vesperra's knight was within the proximity of Professor Snape's king, and he watched solemnly as it rode on its tiny marble horse to seize his king by his stone robes, and dragged him off the board.

"We'll be going to my office, then." he said in a defeated tone, though not grave at all. Standing up at once, he made for the door, and Vesperra took one last desperate look at the Foe-Glass before following him.

It was only a couple hours after lunch (they missed lunch, as they often did these days), so there was a decent number of students wandering around the castle. The majority, however, were outside and enjoying the nice day. Agreeing to meet back up at his office, they set off in different directions that would both lead them down to the first floor.

As usual, Vesperra received glares from most of the people that passed her in the corridors, one of which she recognized as Morag, the Hufflepuff who offered her help once, which she obviously refused. She was walking with a couple other Hufflepuff girls, and out of her peripheral vision, Vesperra saw her hastily whisper something to them. When she merely glanced back at them, they immediately looked away and quickened their pace. _That's smart of them._

Praying not to meet Malfoy on the way down to the dungeons, she took the staircase two steps at a time, but it decided to change directions, and she soon found herself in a completely different corridor. This having happened to most Hogwarts students at one time or another, it wasn't too much trouble to find her way back to her original path, but she found Professor Snape once more in the process.

Everyone that Snape had passed on the way down there had pulled their friends aside to the edges of the corridor and scurried away, as usual. When he made it to the second floor, he was surprised to see Vesperra appear out of an intersecting corridor—and then not so surprised. There was no one else nearby, so he began to walk alongside her.

"Staircases move again?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yes… I think they've been in a strange mood lately." As much as she loved Hogwarts, the fact that the staircases sometimes decided to change positions, especially when you were still on them, was quite annoying.

"We're almost to my office anyway, so it doesn't matter."

However, they kept somewhat of a distance between them, in case anyone turned a corner, came into that corridor all of a sudden, and saw them. They never normally had to do that, since they took separate routes to and from the Great Hall anyway. Although, it still would have seemed strange to any passersby that they were walking in sync.

Once in his office, Vesperra leaned on his black couch while he took a quick detour to his room, and returned with a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. He conjured a glass, forced the cork out of the rim of the bottle, and poured about half of it into the glass. Setting the bottle down on his beside table, he leveled the firewhiskey with his eyes, and squinted at it.

"For the record, I wouldn't have made you do this if you had lost." he told her, lowering the glass to his lips.

"You don't have to do this," said Vesperra, who regretted agreeing to the bet in the first place. If only Quirrell were in the castle, and they'd have better things to do than this…

But without even shifting his focus from the flaming liquid inside his glass to her pleading eyes for a moment, he immediately tilted his head back and shut his eyes, downing all of the firewhiskey in four gulps. Having been undiluted and drunk all at once, it caused a burning sensation all through his body, but mostly in his mouth and throat. It stung his tongue so that it felt drier than air, and left him watering at the eyes.

Snape let his head fall back into its usual position, and bent forward slightly, trying to keep his balance and regain his ability to breathe properly without feeling as though his lungs were on fire. The hand that wasn't holding the now empty glass swung through the air until it found Vesperra's shoulder to grip, just in case, and the other set the glass down so it could start massaging his throat.

Vesperra felt a bit worried for Professor Snape when he had to hold onto her shoulder to steady himself—drinking all that firewhiskey at once was clearly painful. She supposed that it was the sort of pain that you got used to, if you were a big drinker, or the kind of pain that it's amusing to see your friends in—like in drinking games. They'd see their friend experience pain that they never knew before, and they'd all laugh afterward. But she was hardly amused, as she hated to see Professor Snape in any sort of pain. If anything, it was amusing how he was willing to do that just for a bet's sake…

After about a minute, Snape's mouth was almost void of the burning feeling, though that was probably because it had gone numb, and he couldn't feel anything anymore. Exhaling finally, loosened his grip on Vesperra's shoulder, but still held it firmly enough to lightly urge her to sit down with him. He took a misguided step and nearly landed on her when he sat down, so he had to scoot over slightly so as to not crush her into the side of the couch.

Not minding at all that Professor Snape was sitting a _little_ too close to her, Vesperra looked down, and saw his hand lying limp in between his and her leg. She slid her fingers in between his, but let them stay as limp as his.

"You didn't have to do that." Vesperra said softly, frowning at him.

"A bet's a bet." he replied, glancing at his hand, then turning his head towards her.

Annoyed that he didn't mind doing that just because she beat him in a game of Wizard's Chess, and then annoyed with herself for proposing that they make the game more interesting in the first place, she deepened her frown and relaxed her eyelids. But before she could become too annoyed with him or too frustrated that today hadn't gotten them any closer to catching Quirrell, or too immersed in wondering why she had actually wanted to kiss him and still did, Vesperra noticed a drop of firewhiskey dribbling from the side of his mouth.

Without thinking, she reached forward with her right hand, turn her wrist so she could hold onto his face while she took her thumb at the edge of his mouth, and wiped the firewhiskey off. As her hand returned to the arm of the couch, Professor Snape's eyes gained a glint of realization, and he smiled.

* * *

When the new term had started, Snape started keeping an even closer watch on Quirrell, to make up for all the man's time spent away from the school. To both his worry and surprise, while Quirrell stuttered as much as usual, especially in his presence, he definitely seemed happier. There was now a triumphant, yet still nervous, smile etched upon his face as he strolled through the corridors or ate meals in the Great Hall, though it faltered whenever he glanced towards Snape. He wondered (and hoped to God that it didn't) whether this had anything to do with Potter, and if he was able to harm the boy in any way. Perhaps he knew the boy and his friends knew about the Sorcerer's Stone? No—if he was aware of that, he'd also know that they suspected Snape rather than him… And wouldn't that be a perfectly good reason to be happy?

Despite how much evidence pointed towards this having to do with Potter, he decided to relay it with Vesperra on the second night of term.

* * *

The first couple days of term had luckily brought her no homework, so during the time that many other students used to hastily catch up on their work that they neglected over the Easter holidays, Vesperra was relaxing. Well, one wouldn't call it relaxing, when her brain was in turmoil, thinking in circles about Quirrell. On the second day back, she had gone straight through the Common Room after dinner as usual, and only stopped when she got to her dorm.

She imagined that all the other Slytherins must think her quite weird if they didn't exactly know her reputation already, because she was the only one that spent absolutely none of their time in the Common Room, except to pass through. For everyone else, dormitories were only the place you slept, and even the people she had noticed to be loners, like her, at least found a secluded spot in the corner of the Common Room and read until they went to bed. But not her—Vesperra hated to be around other people in any way, shape, or form; because even if she did nothing to antagonize them, they always liked to hurl a few insults here and there, tear down her dignity layer by layer, and of course, the usual torments about her and Professor Snape.

So, she pulled off her shoes and her robes, and loosed her tie a bit. She didn't bother to pull the curtains over her four-poster, because Millicent never went to bed this early. Feeling as though she had exhausted her brain utterly in thinking about Quirrell during the day, she decided that since exams were almost upon them, some studying couldn't hurt.

Around ten, when she was laying on her stomach, notes sprawled out before her on her bed, a thumping noise coming from her left jolted her focus from her notes. Abandoning them at once, she quickly withdrew the glowing and jerking journal from her bag, and eagerly undid the latch.

* * *

_Vesperra, have you had Defense Against the Dark Arts yet this term?_

_**Yes, today after lunch. Why? Have you discovered something important about Quirrell?**_

Snape noticed that her voice spat the man's name even when talking through the journals.

_I'm not sure what significance it has, but I've noticed he seems much happier than usual. Too happy for Quirrell standards. He's hardly ever smiled before, and even then, it was only a frightened or nervous sort of smile._

_**Actually, I noticed that too. He still avoided me like the plague in class, like he usually does, but I could have sworn he had sort of an evil smirk when he wasn't talking to anyone. Or at least, the remnants of one. His eyes aren't as sunken either, like they were before. They almost have a confident look to them. And Quirrell looking confident in any sense is very worrying. Do you suppose he's found out how to get past the dog, and that's why he's so happy?**_

_That was one of my theories, and now I'm sure I ought to abandon my other ones, even though I really hate to. If he does know how to get past it, then he'll be going after the Stone directly any day now. Of course, there's still the other things protecting it… I'm not sure what they are, though, but there's no doubt that Quirrell will try and find that out._

_**From what you've told me, no one but the professor that contributed it and Dumbledore knows exactly what theirs is, and I doubt Quirrell has any idea what order they're in. And if Dumbledore's not an idiot, he'll have made it progressively more difficult. So if Quirrell doesn't know what he's up against after the dog, he'll likely be stuck there. Or die, which I'd prefer he do. **_

_He'd have to either ask the professors what they contributed, which even Quirrell isn't stupid enough to do, or force them to tell him. But to do that, he'd either have to torture them or use Veritaserum… and he probably wouldn't even be able to get them alone, anyway. He indefinitely wants to get to the Stone and return to the main castle without anyone suspecting he's stolen it._

_**And if he's been plotting this all year, then he's not going to allow for any mistakes. He'd be on a suicide mission if he didn't make sure he was prepared for everything that's down there. But what if he's using Legilimency on the other teachers?**_

_If it's taken him this long to figure out how to get past the dog, then he certainly doesn't know Legilimency, or he'd have used it and stolen the Stone months ago. Although, I had wondered that for a while after he used Occlumency on me._

_**Is there any way you can find out what the other things guarding the Stone are, so we can at least know how much time and effort it'll take Quirrell to prepare?**_

_No, there isn't. I've asked Dumbledore, but even though he trusts me more than any of the other teachers, he refuses to tell me. No one but him can know everything that's guarding it, for security reasons, but I don't understand why he can't tell me. He knows I wouldn't steal it—he's practically appointed me as an extra guard to it. And yet, the only thing he cares to tell me is "Keep an eye on Quirrell." _

Vesperra could hear the hotness with which Professor Snape's voice read his message, steadily rising to a boil.

_**Does he want the Stone to be stolen? I understand (though grudgingly) that he may be testing your loyalty, but how loyal you are to him has nothing to do with your ability to stop Quirrell. Dumbledore has information that would help you keep the Stone safe, and he refuses to give it to you? That's absolute rubbish. He truly is crackers.**_

_I know he is. Part of me wants to believe it's all part of a plan, and that he's just choosing not to explain certain parts to me because he thinks it'll be funny to see my reaction when it all turns out perfectly, unlike how I expected it, and then he can smile at me like he always does. However, I can't help but fear he's not as brilliant as he used to be, and that I truly am doing this on my own._

_**You're not on your own, you have me.**_

Her voice sounded slightly hurt, and Snape felt bad for a moment.

_Yes, I do have you. I don't think we should bring up Dumbledore anymore, because it always makes the both of us so frustrated. Quirrell, on the other hand, is now even more of a problem than before. He's a large step closer to knowing all that he needs to know, yet we haven't moved an inch as far as discovering how he's getting his information, or why he's doing all this in the first place. _

_**At least we know it'll happen soon, since there's only six weeks until the school year ends. **_

But that didn't give either of them the least bit of comfort, even though they pretended it did. The rest of their conversation comprised of them going over the same old theories and trying to come up with ways to prove or disprove them. When it was nearing midnight, Vesperra decided that she needed some sleep and bade him goodnight.

Kissing the page, she closed the latch on the journal and her eyes glazed over all the parchment still spread out at the end of her bed. Millicent was asleep, and she was halfway there already, so she didn't bother to put anything away. Sodden with grief for the fact that Quirrell was finally getting what he wanted and that Professor Snape wouldn't allow her to spy on him outside of class, she fell asleep while hugging her journal to her chest.

* * *

Snape let his head fall into the still open journal and groaned. He could have cried with the prospect of imminent stress. But like Vesperra had said, whatever was going to happen would happen within six weeks. That should have lessened the weight on his chest—the knowledge that it would soon be lifted—but it didn't. This wasn't some test that he was dreading to take for fear he wouldn't pass, and he therefore couldn't possibly try to convince himself the outcome didn't matter all that much. Because it did matter—it mattered very much.

If it weren't just for the fact that the Sorcerer's Stone in the wrong hands would be extremely bad, there was still Potter. Though he wasn't completely sure what the connection was, he knew that if Quirrell succeeded in getting the Stone, he'd also succeed in killing Potter. And while Vesperra was right in saying that he had her to help him, he truly _was_ alone as far as protecting Potter went.

This was where it mattered. The very reason he was alive at this moment was because he had promised Dumbledore he'd protect Lily's son. He may not have killed himself, but he definitely wouldn't be here. He'd be at his home in Spinner's End, living a miserable life, wishing for death. His sole purpose for living was to keep Potter safe. And if he failed… then he'd fail Lily. And he'd have no reason to live, nor would he think himself deserving of life anymore. There would still be Vesperra, though…

At this, he realized that this was more like the prospect of a test he needed to pass than he previously thought. After all, once you assured yourself that failing the test wouldn't be the mark of utter disaster, you felt much less stressed and ended up doing much better on the test than you expected. So, if he _did_ fail, he'd still have one shred of happiness left. Not all would be lost. And it was this that made him feel so sure that he wouldn't fail—as long as he did everything in his power to stop Quirrell.

_That, however, must wait for tomorrow._ he thought vaguely as he threw his robes off and magically undid all of the buttons on his shirt, which he pulled off and dropped over the side of his bed. He was too tired to care about pajamas, and it was getting closer to summer anyway. Snape extinguished the single lamp lighting his dungeon room, and before falling straight onto his pillow and to sleep, kissed the page of his journal and closed it. It took a maximum of two seconds for him to be overcome by unconsciousness, and he spent the night with the journal clutched to his bare chest.

* * *

There was no doubting that they had correctly guessed the reason for Quirrell's newfound happiness, especially since he had quickly learned to hide it. Vesperra mentally slapped herself for making herself too obvious—she was glaring at him much more often and with much deeper loathing than usual. And she didn't cut back on making his time in the classroom absolute hell, either.

About a week into the term, she realized that she had developed a habit of flexing her fingers, even when she wasn't anywhere near Quirrell. The only reason she even noticed it was because Professor Snape pointed it out to her in the Room of Requirement, after which he gave her a sorry sort of look and held onto her hand the rest of the time to keep her from doing it.

Vesperra caught herself doing it after that, though she seemed to calm down and stop it during Potions class and when they talked through the journals. The rest of the time, though, she let her frustration and hatred from Quirrell get the better of her, and she hardly made any effort to curb her habit. The stress bore down upon her every minute she wasn't immersed in taking notes, and she wanted nothing more than to grip that man by the neck and squeeze the life out of him.

Quirrell wasn't the only one she felt like doing that to, though. Malfoy certainly hadn't become any less arrogant or cruel, and it was becoming more difficult not to lose her temper.

One morning, Malfoy sauntered over to the Slytherin table with a wide grin spread across his face. Vesperra didn't want to know what he was so happy about, so she kept her eyes on her plate and didn't look up.

"_I_ have the best news ever," he drawled as he sat down, leaning in close to all the surrounding Slytherins and hushing his voice. "Even Grease-perra'll like it."

At the mention of her name—well, her nickname, which she hated—she straightened up warily and watched him through her hair.

"I've got dirt on Potter." At this, the rest of the Slytherins' faces either beamed with awe or contorted into twisted smiles—except for Vesperra, whose scowl remained dormant, though she was more attentive now. "You know that oaf, Hagrid? Well, Potter, Weasley, and the Mudblood were at his house—if you can even call that run-down hut a house—and he was hatching a _dragon_."

There were several gasps and murmurs across that section of the table; Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne all clasped their hands to their mouths, Millicent nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, Crabbe and Goyle looked bewildered, as if wondering why a dragon was such a big deal, Blaise and Theodore were wide-eyed, and Vesperra stopped dead in the middle of chewing a piece of toast.

"_What?_"

"But that's illegal—"

"How'd he get a dragon egg?"

"How do you expect me to know?" Malfoy spoke over them with a satisfied smile, no doubt glad that his news had taken effect. "But he's got one, and he'll be fired any day now. And if Potter is caught helping him, he'll be expelled." He then smirked and looked as though he was stifling maniacal laughter while the others donned eager smiles.

"Why haven't you gone to Dumbledore yet?" implored Pansy. To her obvious surprise, Malfoy threw her an annoyed look.

"_Because…_ I won't need to, Pansy. Give it a week or two, and that dragon will be big enough to eat Potter. Hell, it might eat all four of them. But either way, it's either going to be too big to hide and they'll all be caught, or they'll try to get rid of it and I can catch them then. Besides, I can't just go straight to Dumbledore—he _likes_ Hagrid, and I bet he'd try and cover up for the oaf. And I can't prove it without making it look like I was sneaking around and spying on them—which I was." he finished with a scoff-like laugh.

Frowning at all the disbelieving faces around him, Malfoy folded his arms and continued, lowering his voice. "And I thought you all were my friends—"

"We are!" Pansy insisted, looking offended.

"Then trust me, because I know what I'm doing. This isn't the sort of thing you go telling teachers about, even if you know they can help you. I'm going to wait for a chance to present itself, then catch them on my own. And they know I know, so I can hold this over them for a while." Then, he turned to Vesperra with something halfway between a smirk and a grimace. "_You_ should know all about that, shouldn't you?"

Confused expressions were glancing back and forth between her and Malfoy, which he waved off dismissively. Vesperra's heart was suddenly pounding very hard, and she made sure to let her hair fall over her face to hide it, even though it was impassive. Eventually, Malfoy gave up and returned to his breakfast, leaving her to brood in her own thoughts.

It was true, she _did_ know all about it. But she didn't know that he knew. Although, she understood completely why he wasn't going to go tell Dumbledore or Professor Snape with this information. This was the sort of thing that you had to do alone, because it's personal. And while her hatred for Malfoy was a close second to her hatred for Quirrell, she respected that since he was the one to see the dragon hatching, he'll be the one to turn them in as he pleases.

There was always the chance that he was lying, too, but it was a small one. Vesperra doubted he would lie about being able to blackmail Potter. But now that she knew, she could tell Professor Snape and he could deal with Potter… but she wasn't going to do that. Malfoy would know that she told him, and who knows what sort of revenge he'd get on her then… So she decided she'd leave him to his own devices, and she'd be waiting eagerly for Potter's expulsion.

* * *

The first thing Snape made sure to do was give Filch explicit instructions to keep as good of a watch on the third-floor corridor as possible. He thought about seeing what he could do about Peeves, since any disruption he made would draw Filch away from where he needed to be, but decided he was best left alone. Peeves only listened to the Bloody Baron, and would otherwise do whatever made everyone's time the hardest.

As for Quirrell, he was quite confident that he was keeping the man in check, since Vesperra was being even more horrible to him and Snape himself never let him out of his sight, if he could help it. During the weekend, however, he felt strangely paranoid and insisted on making hourly checks on Quirrell's office, which Vesperra actually didn't mind. She really would give anything to finally catch (or kill) him…

If it weren't for her being several feet shorter than him, he wouldn't have been able to tell that she wasn't an adult, the way she talked… When they had their nightly conversations through the journals, he sometimes forgot he was talking to a child. She was just so brilliant—and not like Granger, either. She didn't go and swallow the entire library, then show off that she simply memorized everything. While she _did_ easily memorize everything she was taught and enjoyed learning, she showed more of her intelligence in problem-solving, and could pick up certain subtleties that most didn't.

Vesperra could always tell when something was wrong with him, and had even suspected Quirrell all that time ago before he had the chance to tell her. Of course, despite her brilliance, she was stubborn, and was quick to let her anger get the better of her. But they were evenly matched in stubbornness, so it usually leveled out. Even aside from doing some of the sleuthing herself and helping him form and toss aside theories as they happened, she was exactly what she needed in a time like this.

Snape had been feeling unstable lately. Some days, he was absolutely horrible to Potter merely out of hatred towards Quirrell and the need to take some of that out on the boy, but other days, he feared too much that he was only ensuring that Potter was against him. His mind was in turmoil, and he couldn't decide how best to protect him. Once or twice, he nearly asked Vesperra for her input, but then he remembered that she knew nothing about him protecting Potter, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Nevertheless, having her to talk to, whether it was about Quirrell, or the stress of the upcoming exams, or even trivial things was a main source of comfort for him. The only other was his memories of Lily, which included her last message and the picture he had of them as children. The problem arose with keeping those separate, because it pained him that he couldn't tell Vesperra about the woman who was the sole reason that he was after Quirrell in the first place, and also the reason he even knew her.

In the first couple weeks of term, he noticed while watching her in Potions class or mealtimes that Vesperra's eyes seemed sunken and her skin even paler, like they had at one point near the beginning of the year. He was sure that this was because she wasn't getting enough sleep, combined with the extensive worrying about the safety of the Stone.

_It'll all be over soon…_ he told himself, and then her, through the journals one night. Not that she needed to be told that, since she had been saying the same thing for a while.

* * *

Despite the fact that Malfoy insisted on dealing with the whole dragon business on his own, he always arrived at mealtimes with reports of his progress.

"Oh, I bet I can do and say whatever I want to them, and they won't retaliate because they think I'll tell. Ah, yes, this is great—Potter's finally _afraid_ of me."

"Weasley's been bitten by the thing—have you seen his hand? It's gone all green and swollen… I saw him going to the Hospital Wing. I think I'll go have a good laugh at him after lunch…"

And finally, "Well, it looks like my chance has presented itself." said Malfoy with an evil grin as he sat down for dinner. He glanced left and right to make sure no one was watching, then withdrew a folded up piece of parchment from his robe pockets. "When I went to see how badly Weasley was doing so I could laugh at him, I said I had to borrow a book—and _this_ was inside it." He unfolded the parchment to reveal that it was a letter, and gave it to Pansy to read.

Her eyes moved greedily across the parchment, and she grinned at Malfoy as she passed it on to Tracey, who was next to her. All the first years had soon read it, except Crabbe and Goyle, who, Vesperra guessed, didn't know how to read. They seemed to be waiting for the say-so from Malfoy that they could begin talking about it, but to their surprise, he shoved the letter under Vesperra's overlarge nose.

"Go on, read it." he exhorted, noticing her shock from actually being included in something. "Maybe you'll laugh for once."

Now not so suspicious, she took the note in her hands and read it.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter—I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't been seen carrying an illegal dragon. _

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark. _

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love, _

_Charlie._

Stone faced, though fighting a smirk, she handed it back to Malfoy, who folded it back up and stuffed it inside his robes.

"I can't believe it's a Ridgeback…" muttered Millicent. "Those are supposed to be really rare—and dangerous."

"Yeah, well, to an idiot like Hagrid, it's a bunny." Malfoy said coldly while narrowing his eyes, presumably annoyed that she had missed the point. "But now I know where they're taking the dragon, and I can catch them at it!" He let out the maniacal laughter he must have been suppressing, which Vesperra thought suited his demeanor very well.

Now, it would all boil down to midnight on Saturday, where Potter would be caught and likely expelled. She couldn't care less about whether Hagrid was fired or got in trouble with the Ministry, but it was helpful to her stress to know that Malfoy might get rid of Potter for good. Plus, since he was too busy telling any Slytherin that would listen how he was going to catch Potter, he didn't have very much time to insult her or hex her in the corridors.

In fact, he almost seemed to be friendlier with her, since they had a mutual goal now. Well, it wasn't really a goal for her, but she wasn't ratting him out, so he took that as her helping him. Although, it did occur to her how strange it was that she was keeping something from Professor Snape for Malfoy's sake. Oh well.

On Sunday morning, Vesperra waited anxiously to hear whether Potter and his friends had gotten their comeuppance. It seemed so, because none of them showed up for breakfast. However, when Malfoy arrived at the Slytherin table, he looked as though he hadn't slept, and was absolutely downtrodden.

"They weren't there." he said to his plate, holding his head in his hands. "I waited for them, but they never came. Maybe they were late—but McGonagall caught me before they got there." Looking pensive, he rubbed his ears.

"So they got away with it?" asked a dumbfounded Blaise, who sounded as angry as Vesperra felt.

"I think so, and there's no way to prove it now…"

In the silence that followed, Vesperra decided to speak up for once. "How many points from Slytherin did you lose?"

The others seemed surprised for a moment, but then rounded on Malfoy, as they seemed to be wondering the same thing. Instead of lashing back at her or telling them all to stuff it, he stuffed his mouth full of eggs, and mumbled, "Twenty."

Gryffindor was already winning with much more points than Slytherin, and now that Malfoy had gone and lost another twenty points for them, everyone was angry with him. They scowled at him along with Vesperra, and it was clear that he was feeling horribly embarrassed. However, she was still angry at Potter for managing to get the dragon up the tower without Malfoy being there to catch them.

Instead of going directly back to the Room of Requirement after breakfast, she went to the Entrance Hall to have a look at the giant hourglasses that recorded House points, which she normally passed on her way to breakfast without glancing at. A lot of the other Slytherins were doing the same, but Malfoy was called back just as they reached the threshold.

"Not so fast, Malfoy!" said the shrill voice of Professor McGonagall, who walked briskly to catch up to him, her lips as thin as they could go. "I still have to take you to Professor Snape, so he can decide what to do with you."

Groaning as he left with McGonagall in the direction of Professor Snape, Malfoy left the rest of the Slytherins behind to look at the hourglasses. There were many students of other Houses crowded around them as well, and Vesperra soon saw why. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hourglasses remained unchanged, but most of the rubies in the Gryffindor one were now in the top half—it looked as though they had lost at least a hundred and fifty points. With that, the Slytherins' loss was nothing. In fact, they were in the lead again.

_How…_ She stared at the emeralds piled in the bottom of the hourglass, which was now the largest of all of the piles of jewels. _…is that possible?_ Could Potter have actually been caught? He must have—how else could Gryffindor have lost all those points? Too bad Malfoy didn't know yet… Actually, Vesperra was glad he didn't know yet. Another half an hour of humiliation and blame would be good for him…

Now, Slytherin was in the lead _and_ Malfoy had detention. If it weren't for the fact that Quirrell was still alive, she'd be unable to suppress a gleeful smile. It was still difficult, though, so she headed to the Room of Requirement to wait for Professor Snape. He'd obviously be a while with Malfoy and McGonagall, but Vesperra was sure he'd bring back news of everything that happened.

* * *

Snape had headed off to the Room of Requirement after breakfast, but was stopped by a shrill voice.

"Severus, I need to speak with you in your office—" He turned around to see Professor McGonagall heading towards him, tailed by Draco Malfoy. "—to discuss Malfoy's detention."

"Detention?" he asked silkily. "For what, Minerva?"

"Wandering around in the middle of the night—but I'll explain it in detail once we are in your office."

He had no choice—Snape led the two to the dungeons, and ushered them inside his office. As they sat down in the chairs opposite his side of his desk, he made for the door that connected his office to his room.

"Will you excuse me a moment? I need to attend to something."

"Yes, but please be quick, Severus."

Snape slipped into his room, and pulled his journal out from his robes, along with a self-inking quill. Finding a blank page, he hastily scrawled a message;

_McGonagall wants to speak with me, and it might be a while before I'm back. Keep watch on the Foe-Glass._

Slashing the corner, he closed the latch, put the journal back inside his robes, and returned to his office. He sat down, and raised his eyebrows imploringly.

"Last night, some time after midnight, I caught Malfoy here lurking around the bottom of the Astronomy Tower. He claimed that he was waiting for Potter, who was bringing a dragon—"

"He was, you were just too early to catch him!" Malfoy interrupted, at which McGonagall's lips became even thinner.

"Do not interrupt me, Malfoy. You were tricked, in any case. I find it hard to believe that you were foolish enough to think their story was true, and snuck around in the middle of the night! Potter and Granger were quite foolish as well, and I assure you, I don't like to take a hundred and fifty points from my own House—"

"Those two were sneaking around as well?" It was Snape who interrupted this time. "And what is this about a dragon?"

"Potter and his friends made up some story about Hagrid keeping a dragon, and them bringing it to the Astronomy Tower on Saturday to get rid of it." McGonagall answered slowly, throwing Malfoy a you-better-not-interrupt-me-this-time glance. "They were trying to trick Malfoy into sneaking out after them in order to get into trouble, which worked, obviously. Longbottom heard and believed it as well, and tried to find and warn Potter and Granger. Filch and I caught the three of them, and took fifty points from Gryffindor each."

Malfoy's eyes widened in glee as he heard this, and no longer seemed to care about no one believing the dragon story. "So Slytherin's in the lead again?"

"Yes," she responded impatiently, "but I hope you have not forgotten that you _will_ serve detention?"

Nodding solemnly, the boy sunk lower into his chair.

"Out of bed and wandering around the school in the dead of the night? I should _expel_ you for such extreme rule-breaking as that, Malfoy." said Snape, watching the kid's expression become horrified. "But I won't. It is only fair that Professor McGonagall decides your punishment—and speaking of which, Minerva, have you spoken with the Headmaster about this?"

"Why, no, Severus—"

"I think he ought to know. Perhaps he will have some input as to what their detentions—or if they will receive anything worse—will be." Standing up at once, he walked to the door. "Malfoy, you can return to your Common Room." He obeyed, and Snape and McGonagall headed for the stone gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office.

They found him stroking Fawkes, his phoenix, and the old man greeted them with delight. Snape relayed all that McGonagall had told him to Dumbledore, and he actually lost his usual content smile.

"Surely, you believe this is a matter of expulsion for Potter and Granger," pressed Snape when he had finished explaining.

"Heavens, Severus, why should they be given a worse punishment than Malfoy?" McGonagall asked in disbelief.

"This is not the first time Potter has broken the rules. All of us know his record, and if we let him off now, he'll break more in the future. Besides—he deliberately got three other students in trouble, and—"

"Now, now… I'm not saying he had any right to go tricking his classmates like that, but that doesn't mean he deserves to leave Hogwarts!"

Finally, Dumbledore contributed to the conversation. "They will have detention, Severus, and nothing more. I daresay they've been humiliated enough, seeing as how Gryffindor's in last place now. Of course, the severity of the detention is up to you both… I will call for you if any ideas cross my mind."

McGonagall took that as a goodbye and left, but Snape stayed behind.

"Don't you think Potter would be safer if he was expelled?" said Snape as soon as McGonagall shut the door. "I do not believe for one second that he will not continue to sneak out—and what if he comes across Quirrell? That would be the perfect moment to kill him, and we can't risk that."

Smiling at him, Dumbledore said, "You just don't want to have to worry about him, Severus. But Harry must stay at Hogwarts, and you know the reason for that. Now, you should go. Isn't there someone waiting for you?"

Though he was growing angrier with every passing second—at Potter, at Dumbledore, and at himself, he rose from his seat and argued no further, for he needed to get back to Vesperra.

* * *

Growing impatient, Vesperra had taken to pacing back and forth in front of the Foe-Glass. It had already been an hour—no, two hours? She wasn't sure. It could have been more.

However long it was, she was so anxious for Professor Snape to return that she didn't fight back an excited smile when he strode in all of a sudden. He seemed surprised at her smile, but hurried to sit with her and answer her questions, filling in the rest of the information that she hadn't asked for. When he finished explaining about why there were so many points taken from Gryffindor, exactly what had gone on the night before, and how no one was being expelled, but detentions would be decided later on, there was only one thing that she thought relevant to say.

"This means that Slytherin will win the House Championship after all."

Noticing the suppressed excitement in her voice, Snape smirked down at her. "Indeed, it does."

"And everyone _hates_ Potter now—and he and Malfoy have detention…" It was too good to be true. Vesperra leaned back with a smirk to match Professor Snape's, as it seemed everything was going her way now. Except for Quirrell, that is. "Do you have any idea what you're going to make them do?"

"Not yet… But whatever McGonagall and I come up with, it will be hardly one step short of expulsion." spat Snape. "He needs to realize that insolence will not be tolerated. I should have Filch chain them to the ceiling by their wrists—Merlin knows he wants to—but Dumbledore would never let him."

"They should clean the entire library—the Muggle way, or spend some time in the dungeons preparing potions ingredients—until they get it right, which I know Potter and Longbottom'll never accomplish, or spend a full week under the leg-locker curse, or…"

For the next few hours until lunch, Snape listened with amusement as Vesperra listed all the ideas she could think of for Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and Malfoy's detentions. Some of them seemed extremely appropriate to him, but he was sure that Dumbledore wouldn't approve of them, and might even be scared by how Vesperra's mind worked. Others were actually rather good ideas, and he made a mental note to run them over with Minerva. However, he was haunted all the while by the fact that Quirrell could have killed Potter if he had been out and about last night. And what was worse, he couldn't voice his true worries.

Vesperra had eventually said every sort of punishment imaginable, but she couldn't get over how Slytherin was ahead, and every non-Slytherin would now be glaring at Potter as they passed him rather than her. It was almost enough to make her forget about the Stone and Quirrell.

After lunch, though, she resigned to going over Quirrell-theories again, despite how unnaturally happy she still was. Professor Snape caught her evilly smirking to herself several times, and joined her. As he held her hand, he gave it a squeeze every now and then, which only increased her happiness. Of course, whether or not she was stressing about homework or Quirrell, she couldn't help but feel happy around him.

The very sight of him when she entered the Great Hall or Potions classroom or Room of Requirement was calming if that's what she needed, or otherwise exhilarating. Before him, she had never had any sort of friend, or any source of comfort, for that matter. Her mother never gave her a caring look, let alone hugged her. And to have Professor Snape sitting next to her, holding her hand and frequently locking eyes with her… Sometimes, she didn't believe it was real, and waited for some outside force to waken her into reality. But this _was_ reality.

So, with her happiness pushed to its maximum from everyone she hated (besides Quirrell) getting their comeuppance, then being pushed even further by Professor Snape's hand grasping hers, Vesperra felt as though she could have grabbed his face and kissed him full on the lips without regret—if only she was tall enough.

* * *

The next couple weeks proved her prediction that Potter would be hated all over Hogwarts. Malfoy was no longer upset about the whole dragon thing (which she hadn't told Professor Snape that she knew anything about), because he had at least accomplished something. To a point, though, this frustrated Vesperra, because she had won a great deal of points for Slytherin and no one ever liked her better for it. Malfoy, on the other hand, simply got caught sneaking around, which may or may not have affected the amount of points taken from Gryffindor, and all the Slytherins were clapping him on the back or shouting their thanks across the corridors on the way to class.

As usual, power was going to his head, and he was back to treating Vesperra like she was a useless animal, or something on the bottom of his shoe. She didn't expect any different. It was back to normal, which, frankly, she preferred. Malfoy respecting her in any sense just didn't feel right.

But as glad as she was about Slytherin's inevitable win for the eighth year running, exams were closing in, and the whole school was in a frenzy to study. Even though Professor Snape was always telling her that it was stupid to worry about failing since she was so brilliant, she became quite paranoid. She started taking even more vigorous notes, and spent passing periods and meals going over spells and wand movements in her head.

It was difficult to focus on studying with Quirrell on her mind, and vice versa. But Professor Snape assured her that he was doing all he could do, and she needn't push herself too hard. Considering the softness with which he said it and held her hand as he did, she'd say it worked for the most part.

* * *

Quirrell's slight confidence had been long gone, and he was quickly reverting back to his old, nervous self, meaning that he was once again stuck as far as getting past the rest of the things guarding the Sorcerer's Stone. This was comforting to know, except keeping an eye on him was increasingly difficult.

Snape knew he wasn't going to have anymore chances to confront him directly after what had happened, so everything had to be subtle. He followed him after meals to make sure he went straight back to his office or chambers, which he usually did, but sometimes, was able to lose him and lead Snape in circles. Once again, he wasn't sure how the man did it, but it was annoying the hell out of him.

Potter, however, didn't seem to be causing any more trouble, which was completely unexpected. In fact, he was easier to keep an eye on. Rather than wandering the halls, he always went straight to the Great Hall, Gryffindor tower, or the library, and never ended up anywhere near Quirrell. Or so it seemed, at least.

_Quirrell's probably having a worse time than I am…_ He was satisfied to think of what must be going on in that man's mind, especially since Vesperra was being so cruel to him. _She's rather passionate about this, isn't she?_ The thought brought a smirk to his face, but also worried him a bit. What if she suddenly felt that she'd had enough, and went to try and curse Quirrell to get it over with? _Merlin knows she's capable of it… But we don't know what he's capable of. She wouldn't go against a direct order, would she? Vesperra knows I'm only looking out for her… But she is very stubborn._

Part of him wanted to talk to her about that, which would have made for the umpteenth time, but he decided not to, because he would hate for her to think that he didn't trust her. Trust… trust was important, especially for them. He trusted no one more than her, not even Dumbledore. And she had no one but him to trust, either. That settled it, then. He'd just have to trust her not to lose her head.

Now, back to Potter. There was only a week or so left until exams, and the matter of his detention hadn't been settled yet. Snape had told Professor McGonagall of some of Vesperra's ideas (though he couldn't credit her), but she only said she'd think about them and speak to Dumbledore. One morning at breakfast, however, she made up her mind.

He had arrived in the middle of a conversation between Hagrid and McGonagall, which was a strange sight, since the gamekeeper was so unruly and covered with dirt, and that was quite the opposite from Minerva's strict, uptight persona.

"—An' I coul' really use summun' ter assist Fang an' me, if yeh don' mind lettin' them in the forest. I know yeh haven' decided on punishmen' yet, an' they migh' as well be put ter use." Hagrid was saying, being a bit careless with his jug and sloshing coffee on himself.

"Do try and be more careful, Rubeus," said McGonagall, cleaning up the mess with a simple flick of her wand. "But yes, I do believe that would be quite a fair detention… If they're careless about their own safety, they might as well have a hands-on experience to scare them into not doing it again." Suddenly, she noticed Snape sitting a few seats from her, and addressed him.

"Severus, I daresay you've heard enough to know what's going on?"

"Yes… but what exactly does Hagrid need assistance with in the Forbidden Forest?" he asked warily.

"There's bin summat after the unicorns. I found one dead las' Wednesday, an' others have bin hurt badly. Reckon we need ter find the hurt one ter put it out of its misery." Hagrid answered with concern evident in his voice, no doubt for the unicorn.

"And you don't know _what's_ been attacking them?"

"No, but I hope ter find out. I figured tha' should be Quirrell's area of expertise, so I asked him, but he jus' went all shaky and didn' answer. But yeh've got to know a lot about it, don't yeh?"

Snape was suddenly very suspicious. Was Quirrell just being his nervous self, like usual, or did he know something about whatever was attacking the unicorns? And while he knew very much about the Dark Arts, he hadn't ever read up much on unicorns. He did know, however, that unicorns were such pure creatures that it would take awfully powerful Dark magic to kill one.

"Have you told Dumbledore about this?" He decided not to answer Hagrid's original question.

"Yeah—a couple days ago. He told me ter ask the centaurs 'bout it, but they don' tell yeh nothin'—ruddy stargazers. So he said I could get those students ter help me. Don' worry, whatever's hurtin' the unicorns wouldn' be a danger ter them if Fang an' me's there."

Snape was still suspicious, but he dropped the subject and agreed to utilize that as detention. The thing was, he didn't doubt that Hagrid's size would count for Potter's safety, or that Dumbledore wasn't insane enough to deliberately allow him to be in a deadly situation. Besides, the little brat deserved it, for going out of bounds in the middle of the night. Didn't he know how much of a danger he was in? Of course he didn't. But that didn't stop Snape from being angry with him for that—acting like rules didn't apply to him, and that he could do whatever he wanted… just like his father. Yes, just like him… It suddenly didn't matter to Snape what was in the forest, or if it was capable of killing Potter. He deserved it.

Although, there were two things that brought him back to rational thinking, which was always worrying. One; he had a strong reason to believe that Quirrell and the unicorn attacks were somehow connected. And two; the only creature or person he ever knew to possess the power required to slay a unicorn was Lord Voldemort.

* * *

**Well, now you have the Slytherins' side of the story for the whole dragon thing... And, as you should have gathered, we're pretty sure Vesperra does have somewhat of a crush on Professor Snape. Also, as for Hagrid, I hope I didn't over do it. I mean, he does talk like that... Anyway, Quirrell's found out how to get past the dog, but we're not sure how(actually, we know, but Snape and Vesperra don't), and he's somehow learning how to get past the rest of it. Are their theories true? You'll have to wait another week to find out.**

**In the next chapter: Exams, The Showdown(sort of), Saying Goodbye**

**Please rate and review!**


	14. Book 1: Chapter 14

**At long last, here is the epic finale! I'm sorry, but it's super long. A lot had to happen to tie everything together, though. I thought about making it two seperate chapters, but decided not to. I'm not sure why, though... Just don't question my decisions. Even I don't question my decisions. If you're a slow reader, this could take longer than an hour to read. Just warning you. Although, I'm sure that you're just as excited to read this as I am to publish it! The final chapter is filled to the brim with suspense, action, and friendship- just like in the actual book. Except Vesperra and Snape's friendship is much different than that of he trio's... it's closer. There'll be moments where you audibly gasp and whoever is in the room with you will look at you strangely. There'll be moments where your heart is thumping so hard that you're afraid to read the next line. And there'll be moments where you want to cry(in which case you might want to read this alone). So read on, and please enjoy.**

* * *

Though Snape wanted very much to know, he did not ask Hagrid how Potter's detention went. As he didn't even feel up to telling Vesperra, who he trusted more than anyone, that he actually cared about Potter's safety, he couldn't risk drawing suspicion to himself. Hagrid had only mentioned that they had found the dead unicorn all right and he gave it a proper burial, so Snape could only assume that he still didn't know _what_ exactly had attacked them.

Appearing to take much interest in the situation would not be prudent if he was to maintain his façade. Potter and the others that took part in the detention were still alive, so he figured that should be good enough. _He's not dead, so why am I still worrying?_ But he couldn't stop worrying, because there was still that thought lingering in the back of his mind… _It takes extremely powerful Dark Magic to kill a unicorn, and the only one that possesses it is Voldemort… or what he used to be. He's gone, and even if he was back, what would he want with a unicorn?_

Those thoughts haunted him for the following days, even after he talked about it with Vesperra—but he didn't tell her everything, to his regret.

"According to the gamekeeper, there's something in the Forbidden Forest killing unicorns…" he had said while watching the Foe-Glass on the Saturday after the detention. "I think it might tie in with Quirrell."

"Killing unicorns? What could possibly kill a unicorn?" asked Vesperra. She had read her fair share of books, and even without them, most people knew that unicorns were extremely pure creatures.

"I wondered the same thing. It has to be a very powerful, very Dark creature… But I know of none that live in the Forest." He chose not to mention his suspicions that it might be a person, but it didn't matter because Vesperra seemed to have thought of that as well.

"You don't think _Quirrell's_ been killing them… do you? It suddenly seems very likely, though… What if he's doing it to somehow learn how to get to the Stone? I don't know, though… I just can't see _him_ being capable of killing a unicorn."

"That's possible…" Once again, Snape internally complimented her on her eye for subtlety and brilliance. "But what use could killing unicorns be to getting past what's guarding the Stone?"

"Perhaps he's having someone do it for him… Or maybe we're completely wrong, and it's just a coincidence." Vesperra didn't really believe that, but having no prior knowledge as to the usefulness of a unicorn (except their horn and hairs in some potions, but none of those seemed relevant), she had no idea where to go from there.

"Whether it's a coincidence or not, it means something very dangerous is in the Forbidden Forest, and I'm not going to lie and say it can't possibly come onto the grounds, if it isn't already." said Snape in the serious tone he used during classes, commanding the small bit of Vesperra's attention that was wavering. "But that is to be dealt with on my terms, and until I know if Quirrell has anything to do with it, you are not to worry about it—You may be correct, anyway. It could very well be a coincidence. But _just in case_, Vesperra…" His voice suddenly became much softer, but not any less commanding. "I don't want you out of the grounds unless it's absolutely necessary, and _please_ stay away from Quirrell if you're not in class. Perhaps you should cease what you've been doing to him in classes as well…" he added, knowing that she'd likely make it even harder for the man otherwise.

"That's going to be pretty hard, considering I loathe him even more now… if that's possible." Vesperra muttered, reluctant to agree to his suggestion. As she did, though, Professor Snape grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her to full attention, which wasn't necessary at all, because she already was.

"He knows how to get past the dog. He likely knows how to get past some of the other guards now. He _must_ be capable of more than he appears to be. Hell, if he's been the one killing unicorns, he's perfectly capable of killing you. And I daresay it won't be long before he knows exactly how to get the Stone, which means he'll have no qualms about it! He'll kill you for standing in his way, and he'll enjoy it because it'll be revenge more than anything. You're stubborn—I know. But_ please_—do not do anything that would put you in danger."

She noticed that he was saying all this very fast, yet clear enough that every word hit her like a smack to the head. They had had this conversation a few times before, but never had it seemed so serious to her. Exams were next week, which meant her first year at Hogwarts was almost over. Quirrell would indefinitely have to try for the Stone within two weeks, and once he did, he'd feel that he had nothing to lose. And Professor Snape was right… she mustn't worry about the unicorn business when there were exams and Quirrell to worry about. It was only an added danger…

Nodding slowly, she felt his hands relax and leave her shoulders, and heard him inhale deeply. How much stress was he going to be in now?

* * *

The following week had been something in between hell and a drugged sleep for Vesperra. Monday and Tuesday were normal class days, much of which were devoted to reviewing the material, and the teachers allowed the students to use the time to study individually. While she was not going _completely_ insane over the exams, she probably studied harder than over half the rest of her class. Then again, she already had a good portion of her notes memorized.

And though Vesperra avoided Quirrell's office as much as possible and didn't cast a single hex during her Defense Against the Dark Arts class like Professor Snape had told her, it was almost too tempting to go against him. But she respected him too much, and to directly disobey him would just feel horrible… she already had a pang in her stomach just from thinking about doing so.

However, she was taking a short detour to and from classes to check out of the nearby windows in the castle, to check if she could see Quirrell heading towards the Forbidden Forest. She never did, but it felt good to know she was at least trying. Not good enough, though.

Professor Snape_ had_ told her not to worry about the unicorn, but she hadn't really counted that as an order, since nothing he said could control how she felt. He had told her countless times not to worry about _his_ safety, but how could she possibly do that? Sure, he was an extremely experienced wizard who could look after himself, but he mattered more to her than anything else. And that's why she did, indeed, worry about what might be killing the unicorn and why.

During the few hours she had after dinner on Monday and Tuesday, she went to the library rather than straight to her dorm. It didn't seem suspicious, after all, because many people were in there for some last-minute studying. Vesperra went straight to the Magical Creatures section and found a decent-sized part of a bookshelf dedicated to unicorns. Making sure she was well away from most of the others that were studying, she pulled down some books and started skimming.

She checked _Pure Potions Only—Essence of Unicorn_, but none of the potions listed looked like they could be of any help to Quirrell. After a couple other titles of similar nature, she found something in _The Sightseer's Guide: Capturing Creatures Without Actually Capturing Them_;

_Anyone who comes across a unicorn will undoubtedly be drawn to its beauty, as a result of its eminently pure aura. However, one must control these urges when attempting to approach one, because they can sense emotions and intent. They prefer the women and infant's touch, as such a touch is almost as pure as they are. Most men will have a hard time approaching a unicorn without scaring it away, even if they have no intent to harm it whatsoever. And it would be useless to try and chase after one, as their speed cannot be matched by more than a few other known creatures. _

After that, none of it really mattered, but she now knew one thing; whatever—or whoever—killed those unicorns must have been pretty damn fast. If you could scare away a unicorn just by your intent, then what sort of magic would it take to incapacitate one and then actually kill it? Whatever it was, she wanted to use that sort of magic on Quirrell.

Of course, Professor Snape probably already knew that, but it's not like she could have asked him about it without getting him all riled up and giving her another lecture on why she needed to focus on her exams and not him. So she continued to look through books until Madam Pince told them all that the library was closed, and just barely gave her enough time to pile together all the ones she hadn't skimmed yet before she ushered them out with her feather duster.

Meanwhile, there was still studying to be done. Vesperra knew that Professor Snape would have convinced all the other professors to exempt her from exams if he had the power, what with everything else going on, but she would have refused anyway—passing her exams was very important to her.

Starting Wednesday, there were two exams each day; one to take place of their usual morning classes, and one for the afternoon classes. Ironically, her first was Defense Against the Dark Arts. All the first years were seated at individual desks in a large classroom that was only used for exam days, and had until lunch to complete the exam. The first half was mainly about the dark creatures they had learned about that year, which Vesperra was sure she couldn't have missed more than one or two questions on—and the ones she wasn't completely sure of were just poorly-written questions, in her opinion. The second half had been on jinxes, hexes, and curses, which was possibly the easiest thing she'd ever done. Having taken quite an interest in the Dark Arts (especially curses), she knew how to classify them, defend them, and certainly how to perform them—but mostly ones that she was sure weren't allowed at Hogwarts in any case.

It was an hour of silently reading through one of the unicorn books she had in her bag, since she finished the exam before most—but of course, Granger was the first, followed by many of the Ravenclaws. _Well, I take my time, and don't assume everything I do is right, even though I probably am… _she thought haughtily. Then, there was lunch, which was far more enjoyable with Malfoy looking almost as nervous as Quirrell, fearful that he may not have passed. He really didn't have anything to worry about, because he never had bad marks, but it was fun to watch him stress out anyway.

The next exam was Charms, which included a practical exam. During the written test, Professor Flitwick called each of them into his office to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across his desk. Vesperra could clearly remember her notes on that particular charm, but she had only done it the week they had learned it, which made for about five times, because they weren't required to practice if they already knew it. It was, after all, a pretty useless charm, to make something dance. _If used with bad intentions, it could be a hex, though…_

Muttering the charm with a lazy flourish of her wand, she was easily able to send to pineapple bounce rapidly on its edges as if tap dancing, and Flitwick gave her a squeaky "Well done!" As for the written part, it wasn't too difficult to remember the incantations or wand movements for each spell they were tested on, as she had mastered every one of them.

Thursday morning brought Herbology, then Transfiguration in the afternoon. She had another practical exam with McGonagall, in which they had to turn a mouse into a snuffbox.

Concentrating with all her might, she aimed at the very frightened looking mouse, made a brief swoosh with her wand, and said monotonously, "Snufflifors." Gradually speeding up in transformation, the mouse's fur expanded and became square and metal, decorative adornments appearing as its tail turned into back hinges and its teeth became a latch. When the whiskers had receded until they were no more, before her sat a snuffbox of green and silver stones, accented in black. Yes, that was always a good approach.

Smirking approvingly, Professor McGonagall scribbled something on her clipboard and nodded her away so the next student could come in.

Though quite glad that there would only be one day of exams left, Vesperra couldn't help but revert to her paranoid self, wondering what Quirrell might be up to during all this time. Surely he wouldn't be able to do anything about the Stone what with the hectic exam schedule… But what if he had already gotten it, and was able to do so because everyone was so preoccupied? No, he wouldn't… there were too many people out and about this week, even in the evenings… It just wouldn't be smart to do.

Abandoning the topic on that note, she buried herself in her History of Magic notes for a good few hours before bed. That night, there was only one thing on her mind as she fell asleep—the Potions exam tomorrow morning.

* * *

As both he and Vesperra had suspected (which they had discussed through the journals), Quirrell remained inactive for the second half of the week, due to exams. Since he had been the one following him, keeping an eye on him, and pressing an ear to Quirrell's office door, he was sure of it, and it was a relief.

Even a relief that large hardly made up for his own exam stress, though. As the Potions Master, he spent all day overseeing the Potions exams, which was, in his opinion, much worse than being the ones taking the exams. He was either sitting menacingly at the front desk in one of the larger dungeons with nothing but the sound of quills scratching on parchment for the better part of an hour, and another hour of sneering at each of their potions. One of the hardest parts was not being able to point out every one of their faults, like in normal lessons, because it was a firmly ingrained habit of his to insult—well, nearly everything. Besides, he wouldn't be able to see their crestfallen faces when they've gotten their scores back.

However, the near silence was useful for him to think about his plans for Quirrell. There wasn't much time left for him to try and steal the Stone, and Snape wasn't even sure that the man knew enough to attempt it yet. If he failed in the week before the school year ended, he'd have limited time before he had to leave for good, and he wouldn't have a chance to come back, because if Dumbledore wasn't planning on it already, he'd see to it personally that Quirrell was sacked. And even if he couldn't, there'd be an entire summer before he could try again, and they could have the Stone moved to a different place by then, or at least change the things guarding it, so he'd have to start all over…

Then, there was the unicorn thing. What was attacking them, and how—and why? It had occurred to him to speak with Dumbledore about this, but he went strictly against that idea for many reasons, the simplest being; he was stubborn and didn't want help from that crazy old bat anymore. And the second; there was no doubt that Dumbledore would give him vague, unhelpful words of advice, and then tell him once again that he should be telling this to Vesperra. Maybe he should, but he couldn't. He couldn't tell her anything about his suspicions of Voldemort having something to do with it, but that could lead to the truth about his past, which would then lead to Lily… and he couldn't risk that. But Dumbledore would just smile a strange smile and say something whimsical to try an encourage him to stop being so stubborn and doubtful of Vesperra's capability to understand things…

Needless to say, he didn't tell Dumbledore. Besides—he wouldn't likely know any more than he did, because Hagrid had asked the centaurs about it for him, but they didn't tell him anything. Snape searched his mind for all the knowledge about Dark Magic that he had, but couldn't remember anything pertaining to unicorns. So, deciding to research it the day after next, he prepared for the last day of exams.

* * *

Not that she feared the outcome of any of her exams, but Potions was the only one Vesperra really looked forward to. It just felt nice, she supposed, to be physically near Professor Snape for the first time that week, aside from meals. Eagerly heading back to the dungeons after breakfast, she was the first one to the corridor outside the entrance of Dungeon Three, which they'd be using for exams. It wasn't until several more students had arrived and were standing around impatiently that Professor Snape opened the large double doors and beckoned them in with a curt nod.

For a moment, his eyes found hers in some kind of a relief, considering how they had been no closer than fifty feet for the past week, but they couldn't let it linger too long. More and more students filed in, all finding the desks marked with their names. They were seated in columns by House, and in rows by alphabetical order, which put Vesperra in the second row. Like in all their other exams, they were given Anti-cheating quills. The stacks of papers that were their exams already sat on each desk, but no one dared touch them until Professor Snape gave the say-so.

Snape waited until nine o'clock, and didn't bother to make sure every first year was there before he locked the doors, because if they were late, that was their problem. First shooting a glare across the dungeon that was meant for everyone but Vesperra, simply as a reminder what they were going to be dealing with if they put one toe out of line, he stood directly between the two middle columns, and said, "You may begin."

Rather than attempting to achieve some epiphany about Quirrell, he spent the hour sitting at an angle from which he could watch Vesperra take her written test. It was similar to watching her do her homework, but there was the change of positions, as she was now sitting at a desk rather than in a comfortable chair. Torso poised over her parchment like a vulture, she never broke focus with the paper or sat upright for even a moment to relax. She was so close to the desk that her nose couldn't have been more than an inch from the parchment, and her hair fell forward onto the test, which she often had to brush out of the way. Vesperra only straightened her posture when she had to make room to flip the page…

Marveling at how easy this came for her, she figured she shouldn't be surprised. Potions was easily her best class… It was simple to remember the key ingredient in a Blood-Strengthening Solution, or exactly how many porcupine quills to add to a potion for curing boils, or what sort of potions Asphodel was used for… Even if she hadn't looked over her notes a million times, anything said in Professor Snape's voice wasn't exactly easy to forget… At that thought, a misty look took over her eyes for a moment as she couldn't help but smile at her test—it was a good thing no one could see.

Finishing a considerable amount of time before many of the others, Vesperra was about to begin reading where she had left off in one of her unicorn books, but thought it best for Professor Snape not to see those. Instead, she read through all her answers to make sure she hadn't made any mistakes, but that didn't kill very much time. So for the rest of the hour, she held her head in one hand, propped up by her elbow, and stared at Professor Snape.

It felt strange to have prolonged eye contact with Vesperra, especially without being able to say anything. He thought about the journals, as they both had them on their person, and she made an involuntary twitch that told him she was thinking the same. But others were likely to see it, and would either think she was cheating or writing in a diary… So they remained staring fixedly at each other until Snape stood up.

"Quills down, roll up your parchment. Any last-second answers will _not_ count…" He directed his eyes at the few that were hastily writing still. With a wave of his wand, all the rolls of parchment flew to his desk and landed in a neat pile, finished or not. "For the remaining hour, your practical exam will be to brew a Forgetfulness potion. All the ingredients should be available to you—" He waved his wand, and an assortment of ingredients appeared on each desk. "—on your desk. Now, take out your cauldrons and begin."

As each of the students removed their cauldron from their bag and lit a fire beneath it, Snape took advantage of the chance to stretch his legs and took to pacing across every row and down every column. As Longbottom struggled to even prepare the cauldron correctly, his cold eyes glinted maliciously.

He devoted a couple minutes or so to bending down over each students' shoulders and glaring into their cauldron with an expressionless face, knowing full well how nervous he was making them. Some stopped what they were doing altogether until he went away, and others started shaking like mad. All of the Slytherins, however, were perfectly calm.

Vesperra was vaguely aware of Professor Snape walking up and down the rows, breathing down everyone's necks as they struggled to remember the procedure for this particular potion. When he made it to her, he had bent down so close that his chin was practically resting on her shoulder. And she didn't mind him breathing on her neck at all.

After a minute of watching her stir, the potion changed from bright yellow to pale blue, as it was meant to. Moving closer to her ear and moving his lips as little as possible, he whispered, "I'm not supposed to say anything, but it's _perfect_."

It took a great deal of effort not to lose the ability to hold her knife properly all of a sudden, as she was slicing dried lotus leaves when Professor Snape's breath reached her ears. Whether or not he noticed this, she wasn't sure, but part of her was glad when he left to sneer at other students' potions, so she could focus.

The hour was soon up, and his voice echoed throughout the dungeon once more. "Your time is up—fill a flask, label it with your name, and bring it to me." The next few minutes were filled with the sound of clinking ladles upon glass and the shuffling of students putting everything back in their bags, and cleaning up any mess. Many still looked very nervous as they set their flask down on Professor Snape's desk and scurried out of the dungeon, but there were a few, like Granger and Malfoy, who left with a smug look on their face.

Merely out of habit, Vesperra took her time and was the last one to leave. As she did, she exchanged a glance with Professor Snape, and thought quickly of something worth saying—but he beat her to it.

"Good luck on your History of Magic exam… not that you need it."

"I'd rather that luck be put into catching Quirrell. He hasn't much time left, has he?" she said grimly. Without waiting for him to respond or even shake his head, she exited through the double doors for lunch.

_No, he hasn't…_

* * *

Her History of Magic exam was by far the most difficult, considering how uninteresting the class was. She had studied her notes thoroughly and had no trouble memorizing dates, but it had definitely taken longer to do so than her other subjects… Truth be told, no one, save Granger, gave a damn about that class. Vesperra doubted that many people gave more than a minute or two's thought about each question before moving on whether they knew the answer or not, since it was the last exam and everyone just wanted to leave.

Finally, Professor Binns's horrible drone of a voice told them all to put their quills down and roll up their parchment. Nearly everyone cheered or celebrated in some sort—the Slytherins hissed in gratitude. Even Vesperra couldn't help but sigh in relief. The stress of exams were finally over, and everybody would be throwing parties in their respective Common Rooms. She was suddenly in a bad mood again, because she didn't want all the noise disturbing her, and by no means was she going to join them.

All the first years were now free to do whatever, though students that were currently in Charms, Transfiguration, or Potions had another hour to go until they were finished. Vesperra thought of using her journal to talk to Professor Snape, but waved off the idea, since he was surely observing cauldrons with a sneer at the moment, and wouldn't want to be bothered unless it was important. _Quirrell should be done giving his last exam, so he might be doing something worth seeing… No._ She waved off that idea as well—shoved it, more like. Professor Snape had told her to stay away from him, and she would obey, even if she desperately wanted to help spy on him. After another moment of wandering the empty corridors, a different idea swam into her mind, and she didn't hesitate in heading up the nearest staircase and treading the familiar path to the seventh floor.

At least there was one thing she could do, and that was to keep an eye on the Foe-Glass while Professor Snape was unable to. But for the longest time, Quirrell was nothing more than a foggy shape that could have been doing anything. Suddenly, she thought of her unicorn books, and pored through the only one in her bag that she hadn't read yet.

_Nothing._ thought Vesperra bitterly as she roughly stuffed the book back in its place. _I should have known I wouldn't get anything from all these books… What I need are some books on Dark uses for them_—and without even giving her time to think hopelessly that she'd need to get into the Restricted Section for something like that, the Room supplied her with just what she required. A small stack of books silently appeared on a nearby table, but caught her eye all the same. _Of course… that's all I needed to do…_

But she couldn't be frustrated with herself for not thinking of this before, because within a few seconds, she was at the table, eyes glittering at the books. The titles were things like _Creatures Useful for Evil Misdeeds_ and _Horn, Fur, and Blood: The Darkest of Substances_. Gathering them in her arms, she brought them back to her chair, and eyed one of the covers hungrily. It didn't appear too old, but the grayish binding was somewhat worn. Magic was practically radiating from it, making it difficult to not open it at that instant. At last she succumbed, deciding that she shouldn't waste time in getting the information she'd been seeking all week.

* * *

At last, the fourth years' practical exam was over, and exam week had officially ended. Finally, he was free of all those brats… but not free of Quirrell. He knew that the man had had an entire hour to roam the castle as he pleased without having to evade Snape, but there's no way he could have tried for the Stone in that time… _No, he'd have to wait until nightfall_. There was no need to worry about that now… Surely he'd be taking this time to grade exams, or celebrate in the staffroom?

It didn't matter. Snape knew he wouldn't hear anything by listening at Quirrell's door, because he never did, and he really had nothing to worry about until everyone was in their dormitories, which was when Quirrell was likely to try, if he did at all. However, he could have used some coffee right about then, after such a long day.

So, rather than getting a head start on grading exams, he left the dungeon exam room, and climbed the stairs to the ground floor. He soon made it to the Entrance Hall, which was empty except for three children, standing together in the middle—it was Potter and his friends. Suspicious and feeling in the mood for making some snide comments, he strode across the Entrance Hall towards them, and they were so immersed in their conversation that they didn't even notice that they weren't alone.

Coming to a halt behind Potter and Weasley, he was only able to hear the orange one say, "But what can we—" before Granger glanced up and gasped, causing the other two to wheel around.

"Good afternoon." he said smoothly, even more suspicious than before. What were they doing in the Entrance Hall, and what were they talking about? By the shocked looks on their faces as they stared at him, he was sure that whatever they were doing, it wasn't within school rules.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, smiling an odd, twisted smile and not hiding his suspicion at all.

Then Potter finally spoke; "We were—"

"You want to be more careful—hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?" Thinking of Vesperra and how she couldn't keep the light out of her eyes when Slytherin had suddenly been in the lead, he allowed his eyes to warm up a considerable amount, since the trio now had their backs turned to him and were leaving to go outside.

But suddenly, Snape thought of something, and called them back. "Be warned, Potter—any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you." And then he strode off to the staffroom.

Snape wouldn't have put it past Potter to sneak out even after his detention in the Forbidden Forest, and he couldn't have Quirrell finding him in the dark, empty corridors of Hogwarts… nor did he want whatever was attacking unicorns to find him. Expulsion would _have_ to be a good enough threat to keep that kid out of trouble… And if it wasn't, then if Potter didn't die, at least Snape would have an excuse to have him expelled.

As he reached the staffroom, he found that there were hardly as many teachers as he thought would be in there. Professor Sprout was straightening her patched hat and having a hearty conversation with Madam Hooch, who was nodding her head, hawk-eyed as ever. They both went silent as Snape entered the room and glanced at them, and stared at him warily. Without acknowledging them any further, he crossed the long, paneled room to the table next to the fireplace, and poured himself some coffee. Sprout and Hooch returned to their conversation, leaving him to sip his coffee.

Professor Sinistra was reading near the window with her feet propped up against the table, but the room was otherwise empty. For the next ten or so minutes, Snape sat at one of the other tables and drank his coffee with nothing but idle thoughts for company. His mind didn't travel to Quirrell too much, since there were no questions left that he and Vesperra hadn't been asking amongst themselves for weeks. Once he had drained his mug, he decided that he ought to go to the Room of Requirement and watch the Foe-Glass for a while.

When he opened the door to leave, he found Hermione Granger standing outside against the wall, the gargoyles standing guard glaring at her—and now, so was Snape.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" he asked, just as suspicious as he had been earlier. Her eyes widened, but she retained a fairly brave-looking expression.

"Waiting for Professor Flitwick, sir."

Narrowing his eyes, he made an impatient sound of disbelief. "He's not in the staffroom—I'll go fetch him." But he had absolutely no intention to get Flitwick as he turned and left in the direction of the staircases.

* * *

Those books had Vesperra by her weakness—she had become extremely interested in the first one she picked up, and rather than immediately finding the page on unicorns, she started reading each page thoroughly. She had originally started skimming so she could do the former, but she was compelled to read everything.

Vesperra was halfway through _Horn, Fur, and Blood: The Darkest of Substances_, which had so far told her of creatures she hadn't even heard of before, like Graphorns, Runespoors, and Acromantulas, and the particularly gruesome uses for various parts of them. She found herself reading intently on what sort of poisons Acromantula venom were used for and how they affected other ingredients when she came to her senses all of a sudden, and realized that she should be looking for information on unicorns. Promising herself that she'd finish that passage and quickly move on, she returned to the page. When she was done, she didn't keep her promise.

Over an hour had passed since she had arrived at the Room of Requirement, and she had read through pages and pages of faded sketches and very Dark descriptions of substances she'd never imagined, even of creatures she had known about, but not of their Dark potential. But at long last, her hungry eyes had taken their fill of the page on pixie wings, and she flipped the page to reveal the title _Unicorn Blood_.

There was no sketch to accompany it, and the information barely filled a page. This was what she'd been looking for—there was no doubt. Without hesitation, she brought the book closer to her face, and read.

_To take a unicorn's life is required in order to take their blood, but the magic required to do so is far too horrible to describe in this book. However, there are some who possess this ability, while they are few. The blood of a unicorn is silver and very thick to the touch—but merely touching it has no effect, Dark or not. One can procure the blood and store for later use or use it right then, because the magical properties of it do not wane with time, but most that were desperate enough to slay a unicorn would have no use for it at a later time. If you very close to death, no matter what the ailment, drinking the unicorn's blood will keep you alive, but for a short time. It must be drunk regularly to keep the drinker alive continuously, and must be drunk fresh. From the very moment the blood touches your lips and on, though, you would live a cursed life. Some may cling to life so dearly that they are willing to do so, but many would prefer death. If not near death, one may use unicorn blood to be mixed in certain potions, but those are extremely rare. They involve necromancy to a degree, which is the Dark Art of reanimating the dead, but cannot be discussed in detail in this book, for such potions are not found in any other known texts._

After reading it, she went back and reread it. Vesperra's eyes wandered several times over the words, 'but the magic required to do so is far too horrible to describe in this book.' But the book was already so horrible (though for her, that was a good thing)… _If the method of killing a unicorn is too horrible for this book, then it must be extremely Dark magic…_

It seemed somewhat useful to her, but like the book said, there was a great price along with prolonged life—a cursed life. And who would want that? Vesperra then remembered the reason she had been looking for this information in the first place, and her heart did a leap. She had finally found it… thinking frantically of Professor Snape, she knew she had to tell him immediately. _He must be done with exams by now…_ Pulling out her journal from inside her robes, she was about to write him a message when there was a loud _creak_ off to her right.

* * *

The moment he had entered the Room of Requirement, Snape was half-surprised to see Vesperra already in there, looking as if she'd been waiting for him. She had whipped her head around the chair in time to see him come in, and her eyes held almost a mad flame at the sight of him. It was slightly disconcerting, because she rarely had that look…

"Professor!" she greeted, holding up the book. "I've been in here since I finished my exam, and I've discovered something." Without concern for what he might think about her reading such a book, she beckoned him to come forward and take his seat more quickly, then handed him the book.

Taking the old-looking book from her, Snape registered that it was entirely about Dark magic, which he could tell just by holding it. Before reading the page it was opened to, he partially closed it and glanced at the title—_Horn, Fur, and Blood: The Darkest of Substances_. He raised an eyebrow at it, his heart suddenly pounding. _What would she be doing with a book like this…?_ It was always frightening how interested Vesperra was in Dark magic. Then again, he had been the same way as a child… Although, he had come from a family known for using Dark magic. But so had she…

His musings were cut short when he returned to the page she obviously wanted him to read, and it was titled _Unicorn Blood_. Vesperra watched as his eyes moved slowly across the passage, becoming darker and foreboding as they did. When he was finished, he clapped the book shut, causing a small dust cloud near his face, and looked at her strangely, pursing his lips.

"But this doesn't make any sense…" he said when the dust had gone. "For Quirrell, at least. If he's planning on stealing the Sorcerer's Stone, he wouldn't need unicorn blood—the Elixir would already make him immortal." Snape scowled, racking his mind for a logical explanation.

"He's not exactly an inch from death, either." said Vesperra, thinking hard as well. After a minute of silence, she continued. "Unless he was dying before the school year started, and has been killing unicorns since then… The book did say that you could drink it regularly… And he's been after the Stone so he can just have the Elixir of Life and not have to go to the trouble of killing unicorns anymore!" There was a tone of awe to her voice, as this was the first sensible conclusion either of them had come to in a while.

"Quirrell _does_ strike me as one to avoid death at all costs…" It made so much sense. Could this be the answer to why the man had been going out of his way to deceive both him and Dumbledore all year? But wait—"Hagrid only reported the dead unicorns a few weeks ago, though. He would have known if they were being attacked all year."

Vesperra wasn't so quick to give up her theory. "What if he used a different method of staying alive before then, and wasn't able to use it anymore, so he had to start killing unicorns?"

"That _is_ possible…" No, it wasn't just possible—it must have been true, because everything fit. What other explanation was there? "It explains everything. So he's not after power, he just doesn't want to die… Whatever he was doing before was working rather well, since no one has suspected he's dying… I wonder what's ailing him."

"Maybe he was bitten by something over the summer." Vesperra suggested hopefully.

Responding with a simple "Hmm…", Snape ran one finger down the spine of the book, and narrowed his eyes at it. Very slowly, he opened it and flipped through the yellowed pages, staying on each one long enough to read the titles. After only a sixth of the book did he shut it once more, and look up at Vesperra, who seemed to be feigning a look of innocence—but her eyes gave it away.

"Where did you get this book?" he asked calmly, though with a trace of nervousness. It seemed very unlikely to him that she had just happened to find something like that in the shelves that lined the walls.

Knowing that it would come to this, she inhaled and opened her mouth, preparing to explain. "I knew you were getting nowhere as far as the unicorns went, and I'm sorry, but even though you told me not to, I did worry about it. So when I came to the Room today, I was thinking that I needed some helpful books—about Dark uses for certain creatures. The room supplied it, along with a couple others, but I didn't bother to look at them." It was difficult to hide the slight nervousness in her voice as well, but she retained an overall brave tone to her voice. But she decided it best not to reveal exactly how much she read of it, and it was lucky Professor Snape didn't ask.

Relaxing in his seat, he gave the book back to her, which she set on the floor with the two unread books. As they were no longer needed, they promptly vanished. "This room is even more helpful than I'd have thought. You haven't seen him doing anything in the Foe-Glass today, have you?"

Actually, Vesperra had been so immersed in the book that at some point, she had stopped glancing up at the Foe-Glass and her eyes had been glued to the pages until Professor Snape arrived. For all she knew, something worth seeing could have appeared during that time.

"No, I haven't… as usual." Just like all the other times similar to this, she wasn't lying. She was just withholding information—information that would make Professor Snape either angry or disappointed in her, make her feel horrible, and also reveal that she had read most of that book, which she was sure he wouldn't have liked. Nevertheless, she felt bad about it anyway. "He'll be going after it directly very soon, though."

Snape straightened himself in his seat as he noticed a grim tone in her words, and began to mutter to himself, though loudly enough that Vesperra could hear. "I wouldn't expect any different. But in light of recent information, death is the last thing he wants, so he'd take every precaution, as we've discussed before. He hasn't appeared as happy or confident as he did right after Easter, so I doubt he's learned how to get past everything else. And he'd have to get that information from the teachers somehow, which he can't, because they'll be grading exams—which he needs to do as well."

"But he could have found out how without us knowing…" Vesperra argued, even though she'd rather not believe it. "He's probably learned not to appear too happy anymore. Still, though—grading exams… those have to be finished by Monday, don't they?"

Eyes dilating, Snape's brow furrowed the way it did when faced with the prospect of stress. He hadn't forgotten, of course, but it suddenly seemed like too short of a time to grade all those papers (there must have been at least two hundred), especially since he'd like to spend some of the weekend with Vesperra. However, Quirrell would undoubtedly be under the same stress, and he felt a grim sense of satisfaction at that thought. Now that they were sure of why he was after the Stone, they were also very sure that since it wasn't solely for power or even for an evil reason, it was very likely he planned to remain a teacher at Hogwarts, or a least retain a decent reputation in the Wizarding World. With that as evidence, he wouldn't neglect the exams that needed to be graded. Still, he could never be absolutely sure…

"It's nearly dinner." said Vesperra, sorry to interrupt Professor Snape's train of thought, but hungry all the same. As she rose from her chair, he did the same, and walked with her to the door. "While you grade exams after dinner, I could stay in here and keep watch on the Foe-Glass… just in case. And if Quirrell leaves his office or has dangerous intentions, I'll be able to pick it up, and send you a message with the journal, and you'll be quicker to wherever he is anyway." she told him before they reached the exit.

He was about to open his mouth to argue, as he had a bad habit of trying to keep her from taking on any sort of responsibility, but then he thought, _Well, it can't hurt, and I really could use some help…_ Besides, it wasn't as if he was forcing her to do it—she offered. And there was the unmistakable look of eager helpfulness in her eyes. "Actually, that would be perfect."

Glad to be a help, she smiled her Vesperra-esque smile—one that reached the eyes long before it reached her lips, if it reached her lips at all. The idea of more work rather than relaxation would have seemed nothing short of just plain awful if for any other reason but this. And this reason was simply that it was Professor Snape. He normally didn't want her to worry that much, and didn't hesitate to show how horrible he felt for letting her take on so much stress. But when would he get that she didn't _mind_ the stress? _When_ would he understand that she would do absolutely anything for him?

* * *

Even though it was another week until the end-of-year feast, that night's dinner was just about as lively as one. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall seemed to have a large weight lifted off their chests, and seemed to be celebrating amongst themselves. Obviously, Vesperra thought, they didn't care so much about their exam scores—they were just glad that they were over. She normally didn't pay any attention to the Gryffindor table, but it was difficult not to notice the Fillibuster's Firecrackers shooting high above their table and casting an impressive glow on the walls and the bewitched ceiling. They were set off by Fred and George Weasley, and triggered applause from pretty much everyone besides the Slytherins.

The next few hours were spent in the Room of Requirement, where she did not take her eyes off the Foe-Glass at all. She wanted to make up for not paying it much attention earlier, which she still felt bad for. At some points, the foggy shape of Quirrell became a bit clearer, but it was in a sense that Vesperra was sure it was the cause of him having traitorous thoughts rather than him moving about.

Not surprised when it was half past ten and her time with the Foe-Glass hadn't showed anything important, she yawned and decided to return to her dorm. Since it was late, she knew there was a chance she could be caught by a teacher… _No—wait, they'll all still be grading exams, so all I have to worry about is Filch. _This would be a highly worrying thought to most students, but Vesperra knew that Filch was on good terms with Professor Snape, so if he caught her, she could just tell Filch to talk to him. Hell, she wouldn't have been surprised if Professor Snape told him specifically to take any orders from her. Besides, Filch was supposed to be patrolling the staircase near the third floor corridor, as he was given explicit orders to do so.

Bearing all this in mind, she still made sure to tread lightly through the dim corridors, and ignored the suits of armor as they shifted uncomfortably when she passed. It was difficult to find her way back in the dark, and she was sure she had taken a wrong turn, or gone through a door that had previously been in a different position, and the staircase she was on had definitely moved… She had to get to the ground floor, and wanted to do so in the quickest route, but Hogwarts didn't seem to want to go her way at night. While passing through one corridor, however, she heard the _creak_ of a door, and panicked. Thinking quickly, she ran as silently as possible back around the corner, and waited to see who it was and whether they were walking towards or away from her.

As the door finished the slow _creak_ of opening and closing on its arc, it clicked shut, and Vesperra could make out the dark shape of a person, who she now heard to be talking to itself.

"Yes, master, I am sure of it. With _him_ gone, I—we have nothing to lose, and everything to gain… We will finally have it…" It was Quirrell's voice… but it held none of the usual nervousness with which that man spoke. It was quite unsettling to hear him speak like that…

The man was now walking away, and time seemed to slow down to let Vesperra think. Her heart was beating heavily, also in slow motion. Several very short, simple thoughts crossed her mind in the next second; Quirrell was indefinitely going after the Stone now. _Now._ She didn't know who he was talking to, but at the moment, it didn't matter. There was no time to write a message to Professor Snape. There was no time to do anything except what her instincts told her to do.

Silently stepping into the corridor, which she now realized was the one that held Quirrell's office, she drew her wand from within her sleeve, and didn't hesitate in the slightest when she took aim. He had his back turned, and surely couldn't hear her… All she had to do was aim one good curse, and—

So suddenly that Vesperra couldn't believe it, Quirrell spun around and aimed his own wand at her. "_Expelliarmus!_" he hissed, his body now easily visible from this close. Her wand soared out of her hand and landed on the floor ten feet away with a _clatter_, to her utmost horror.

_No… No, he couldn't have heard…_ While her brain was swimming in confusion, she backed away, further from Quirrell, but also further from her wand—the only thing that gave her power, the only thing that she could rely on.

"Nosy girl," said Quirrell as if he was simply annoyed by her presence. "You and Severus following me around all year, it's made things quite difficult… But it doesn't matter now, because I will _not_ let you stand in my way." he finished with mirth, and Vesperra couldn't believe for a moment that it was really Quirrell.

Instead of running away, she stood where she was, utterly defenseless. But it would have been extremely cowardly to run, and she was sure he'd only curse her faster if she did. She couldn't yell for help, either, since that would indefinitely be a quicker way to death.

Quirrell didn't waste any time, though. Pointing his wand directly at her again hardly a second after his little speech, he muttered, "_Silencio_." Vesperra was relieved for the split second following that he hadn't used a serious curse, but another slash of his wand and the hissing of a spell that sounded like "_Crucio!_" extinguished that relief.

Excruciating pain… Blinding, white-hot pain seemed to course through her veins all of a sudden, and she was on the floor, twitching and writhing with the worst pain imaginable. It was more intense than anything she had ever felt in her entire life, and worse than she was sure she'd ever feel, and she was screaming with all the air in her lungs—except she couldn't scream. There was no sound coming out of her mouth as she suffered the horrible pain, jerking, twitching… And being unable to scream made it even more horrible. Her muscles strained worse than she ever did when she used to have night terrors, and she felt as if every inch of her skin was being stabbed repeatedly with knives inlaid with fire—like her scar, but everywhere… Vesperra couldn't handle it, her head would surely burst soon… she wanted to die… And suddenly, all the pain stopped, leaving her breathing heavily yet soundlessly, too weak to move, waiting for Quirrell to kill her.

But he didn't kill her. He had moved his wand away, and had now stepped forward to stand at her feet. As he smiled unpleasantly down at her, he let out a high, cold laugh that did not suit him—it hardly even seemed to be in his voice.

"That's what you get for meddling in business that isn't yours…" Then, he let out a sound of mock-thinking. "Hmm… I'll just let Severus find you here… _Petrificus Totalus_." he finished lazily, putting her under the Full Body-Bind curse with another flick of his wand. Laughing that horrible laugh again, he strode off in the other direction.

Vesperra couldn't believe what had happened. She was horrified, aching, and most of all, angry—both at Quirrell and herself. How could she let that happen? How could she be so stupid? And Professor Snape had told her this would happen. He had warned her, and she had gotten herself tortured and stuck here, and now Quirrell was on his way to steal the Stone! Would he even find her? Would she be stuck here until morning, and someone else saw her, long after Quirrell had the Stone with him? Clearly, they were completely wrong; he had been talking to someone he called his 'master', and they were out of sight. So he must have wanted the Stone for his master, whoever that was. _Oh Merlin, this is all my fault…_

Confused and angry beyond belief, she waited there—not like she had a choice, she was immobilized. Time seemed to be irrelevant now, because when her journal, which had fallen out of her robes when she was being tortured, started glowing at the silver _S_ on the latch and thumping around, she wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours since Quirrell left. With all her might, she tried to reach it, but it was no use. Her arms couldn't move at all. All she could do now was watch the journal continue to thump around, and hope to God that Professor Snape would find her.

* * *

Snape sat in his office, a large pile of rolled-up parchment on the left side of his desk, and the unrolled, marked tests in a stack to his right. Considering how brutal he was when grading, each of them had taken a while. Nearly every test that didn't belong to a Slytherin was covered with red X's, and he tried very hard to find something wrong with Hermione Granger's. He had already graded Vesperra's, which he had found but one mistake on, but it was merely that she had put '_Two _and a half cups of crushed scarab's eyes' for the Boil Curing potion rather than 'One'. As it was the simplest of mistakes, he didn't count it and gave her test a perfect score.

It was almost eleven o'clock, and he started thinking about Vesperra offering to help him. She had been so determined to get rid of Quirrell all year… And she had discovered all that information about unicorns, which helped a great deal. Then, she had been willing to sit alone in the Room of Requirement for hours just to give him time to grade exams… He didn't know what he would do without her. But it was late now, and she should go back to her dorm if she hadn't already. Snape didn't want her to go walking alone through the corridors this late, so he decided to write her a message.

Gladly setting the test he was currently grading aside, he pulled out his journal.

_Have you returned to your dorm yet? If you haven't, I'll come and escort you back to the dungeons._

He slashed the quill through the corner, and waited for her reply. A minute passed… five minutes… ten minutes… nothing. She hadn't written back. All she had to write was a '_**Yes, I've already gotten there on my own**_' or '_**No, I'm still in the Room of Requirement**_.' If she wasn't writing back, something must have happened… No—he couldn't jump to conclusions. It was very likely that she had fallen asleep in the Room, and if she did, she wouldn't have read the message at all. Abandoning the ungraded tests, Snape stood up from his desk and strode out the door.

Taking the stairs that led directly from the ground floor to the seventh, he was glad that he had caught it before it decided to move and lead to the fourth instead. He opened the door and hurried through the corridor until he reached the wall across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and felt a twinge of panic as he paced across it three times, thinking about the room he needed. The door appeared, as usual, but as he crossed the length of the room to where their usual chairs sat, he caught no sight of Vesperra. She wasn't in her chair, or anywhere else.

"Vesperra?" he called out, just in case. No answer. He didn't bother calling out again, because the Room was completely silent besides her name in his voice still echoing throughout the very large room. Besides, she'd be asleep, anyway. Snape checked along the walls lined with bookshelves and every corner of the room before giving up. _It doesn't necessarily mean anything…_ he told himself. _She's probably asleep in her dorm, then. _

Still, something squirmed inside if him, and he recognized that thing as fear. Part of him was sure something had happened to her, but the rational part didn't want to believe it, and instead assured the rest of him that there was a perfectly logical explanation. Either way, he had to make sure before calming down altogether. When he reached the stairs again, they had moved, and now led down to the fifth floor. As he wanted to hurry up, he took them, and then the staircase from there to the fourth floor. There was no immediate staircase waiting for him then, and it could have been minutes before another one swung his way, so he had to enter the fourth floor corridor and take the staircase within.

Practically gliding there, as his robes billowed very much when he ran, he found the spiral staircase and took the steps down three at a time until he finally reached the first floor. The stairs came out to the entrance hall, and his running footsteps, which were spaced far apart due to his long strides, echoed ominously even when he had made it down to the dungeons. Passing his own office, he came to a rough stone wall at the end of one corridor.

"Ambuscade." he breathed. The wall slid open at the password, revealing a short corridor that led to the Common Room. Entering in a very professional manner, he found it still full of students, who all looked at him in surprise.

"Is Miss D'Monicas in here?" said Snape, addressing the first years more than the others. Most of those who had looked confused replaced that look with an annoyed one and gave a small nod of understanding to themselves. None of them dared to ask "What for?", though he was sure they wanted to.

"She never stays in the Common room," said Draco Malfoy, who was leaning back, relaxed, in one of the chairs close to the fire. "She always goes straight to her dorm." Some of the surrounding students murmured their assent, and a few elbowed each other and sniggered.

"But she never came in at all after dinner." Theodore Nott said, to which more students nodded in confirmation. "We would have noticed."

His heart plummeted into his stomach, but he merely gave a "Hmm…" and turned to leave. The voices of student conversation reappeared behind him, then died away as he left into the main dungeon corridor. Vesperra was not in the Room of Requirement, nor was she in her dorm. That meant she was in trouble.

At this realization, Snape broke into a run, eyes frantically searching the ground as he ran through the corridors. What had happened to her? Where was she? _She could be anywhere… _He could not think straight for the life of him. His mind was too busy panicking, coming to awful conclusions that he didn't want to believe. But a single rational thought made its way to the front of his mind, which only made him even more fearful and extremely angry—_Quirrell did it._

And because it was that bastard who must have done it, that also meant that the Stone was likely to be in danger at this very moment—but Snape didn't care. He didn't care about the Stone, and he didn't care about Potter. His heart beat at a frightening pace, and it was only for Vesperra. He only cared about her, and whether she was alive… _No, she's alive. She must be. She's just hurt, not dead… She can't be dead… I can't… I will not lose her. If he… if he killed…_

Sweating profusely, Snape ran through the Entrance Hall, and did not waste time with the moving stairs, but instead took the spiral staircase that led to all floors. In any other circumstance, he would have run out of breath by now, but this was different. Oh, his body ached as much as it would, and his lungs were burning, but he couldn't stop for anything, not even from a lack of oxygen getting to his brain. Pure adrenaline allowed him to keep running, checking every inch of every corridor—but then, he forced himself to _think_ while he was running, though it was difficult. He was, after all, a man that listened to his brain rather than his heart… but not with important things, like this. If he was truly ignoring his heart, he would have gone directly to the third floor. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

_Quirrell would have met her on the way from his office to the third floor…_ he strained his mind to think. _So that gives it a full range of one floor._ One floor, and he'd surely find her. Brain still swimming, calves aching like hell, he hurried through the second floor—but something made him stop and strain his ears to listen. There was noise coming from the next corridor over, and it sounded as if something was hitting the ground repeatedly. A spark of hope ignited inside him, and he took a sharp turn—it was the corridor with Quirrell's office, and there was something—_someone_ lying at the end of it, along with a brightly glowing book that was thumping high above the ground.

The spark didn't know whether to flare up again or cease to exist—was she dead? _No…_ He ran in enormous strides, skidding to a halt at Vesperra's body, stiff as a board yet looking up at him with unmistakable life in her eyes.

* * *

Time was extremely hard to keep track of when you were incapable of movement, and with a journal thumping relentlessly at your side. When she finally heard footsteps in the neighboring corridor, Vesperra still had no idea how much time had passed. _Please let it be Professor Snape…_ she prayed with all her might. The footsteps stopped for a moment, but restarted and became even louder… Minutes later, a dark figure became visible at the end of the corridor, which she could just barely see over her large nose. It ran towards her, and stopped at her side. His features were clearer from this close, and there was no mistaking that black shoulder-length hair or nose that was so much like hers. If it were possible to smile in her current state, she would have.

"Vesperra!" he said throatily, the burning in his lungs now catching up to him. Her arms and legs were snapped together, and he easily recognized it as the Full Body-Bind. Drawing out his wand at once, he pointed it at her and muttered, "_Finite_."

Muscles now relaxed, she tried to sit up, but it hurt too much. For a moment, she thought she wouldn't be able to speak because of the Silencing Charm, but realized that Professor Snape's spell would have stopped it as well. Before she could say anything, however, he had knelt down and scooped her up in his arms.

He was just so relieved that she wasn't dead or critically injured that he couldn't stop himself before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight to his chest. Tears were suddenly falling from his half-closed eyes and onto her neck as he inhaled as much of her as he could. She wasn't dead… she was alright…

While Vesperra wasn't crying, she felt as though she could have. Finding her voice, she choked out, "Quirrell. Quirrell, he—he's after the Stone _right now_… And I—I was so _stupid_…" At that, she did start crying, making it even more difficult to say the rest. Professor Snape loosened his hold on her back, and held her at arm's length, staring into her eyes, somewhat confused.

"I was—leaving the Room—and I saw him… and I knew—I knew he was going after—the Stone, and…" Her jaw trembled as she was apparently struggling to say what happened, and she heaved a sob. "And I thought—I could—curse him from—from behind… Even though—you said—not to… _I'm so stupid_…" Crying harder, she buried her face in Professor Snape's chest, to which he didn't object.

"Shh…" Softly hushing her, he stroked her hair to calm her down. "You're _not_ stupid…" He was still crying as well, but was breathing more evenly than her. Pulling her face out of his robes as gently as possible, he noticed that she was crying less heavily now. "Just tell me what happened."

"Somehow…" she said calmly, forcing herself to stop taking sharp intakes of breath. "Somehow he knew I was behind him. He disarmed me, and then… and he spoke, but it didn't even sound like him. He didn't stutter at all… But he cast a Silencing Charm on me, and…" It was painful even to remember the torture that curse put her through. Vesperra didn't start crying harder, but she seemed to lose her voice for a minute. Professor Snape furrowed his brow, but was patient for her to continue. "And… he cast a spell I've never heard of before—but it… it caused the worst pain imaginable… I felt like my entire body was on fire, like I was being skinned alive…I wanted to die. And I was on the ground, trying to scream, but I couldn't, because of the Silencing Charm…"

Snape's entire body went tense. His jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes widened as he gripped her arms very hard. It took him a moment to find his voice as well. "He—did the spell sound something like—"

"Crucio." Vesperra remembered it exactly. How could she forget, when it had been in that horrible, eerie voice—that voice that he had never spoken with before?

Now, he was shaking, despite how much he was trying not to. She had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse… No, that was too much. Snape's heart began to pound as deeply as it had been when he was running and losing air, and his eyes were engulfed in a raging fire.

"I will kill him." he said simply, voice shaking with rage. "I will _kill_ that bastard…" Then, in spite of how murderous he was feeling, he pulled Vesperra into him again, and hugged her. It wasn't quick, but it didn't last forever, either. When he held her at arm's length again, she understood that he wanted her to continue.

"After that, he said he'd let you find me, cast the Full Body-Bind, and left…" Suddenly, she remembered something else. "Oh—and before, when he was first leaving his office, he was talking to someone, and called them 'Master.' But there was no one else there… Wait—he said he had found everything he needed, and was planning on it tonight… If I had only stayed in the Room of Requirement a few more minutes…" Horribly angry with herself again, she clutched the side of her head, nearly pulling her hair out, and scowled.

As he gently put his hand on hers, she relaxed it and let it fall to the ground again. Then, feeling her ribs, he said, "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing."

"No—I don't need the Hospital Wing…" she protested as he proceeded to scoop her whole body up. Before retorting, he picked up the still-thumping journal as well, opened it, and once it flipped itself to the page, promptly closed it and handed it to her. He noticed her wand feet away from them, and picked that up as well, having to hold her one-handed for a moment.

"Doesn't your body still ache from the Cruciatus Curse?" he asked with a somewhat broken voice. "Don't lie to me."

She had been about to say "No," but the look in his eyes was too much. "Yes, but—"

"You have been through an ordeal… Madam Pomfrey will give you a potion to soothe the pain, as well as a Calming Drought and one to cure your nausea." He had carried her halfway down the stairs to the first floor at that point, and was careful not to make it uncomfortable for her as he hurried down them.

"How did you know I was feeling nauseous?" asked Vesperra slowly as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's a common side-effect of the Cruciatus Curse… I take it you do not object to going to the Hospital Wing anymore?"

"No, I don't…" she sighed in defeat, even though she really did. "Wait… have you ever been cursed with the Cr—"

"Let's not talk about that." said Snape rather sharply as he crossed through the Entrance Hall.

They were both silent the rest of the way to the Hospital Wing. Vesperra would have told him that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, but she preferred to be carried by him. When they had finally reached it, Professor Snape set her down on one of the Hospital beds. He didn't have to go get Madam Pomfrey, because a light flickered on in her office at once, and she emerged in her nightgown and slippers.

"Professor, what happened?"

"She has suffered the Cruciatus Curse—" Madam Pomfrey gasped loudly. "—and requires a Calming Drought. She is in considerable pain—"

"I am not." Vesperra said defiantly, at which Professor Snape turned on her.

"Nevertheless, you need rest."

"But, who—?" Madam Pomfrey started.

"That is unimportant. Just see to it that Vesperra gets proper treatment after her ordeal. I must leave, and—" He turned to Vesperra again, "—Take what she gives you, and do _not_ leave the Hospital Wing." At that, he swept out of the Hospital Wing and out of sight.

* * *

_Merlin, I'm not that stubborn._ she thought bitterly. _He trusts me with important things like the Sorcerer's Stone, but doesn't think I can control myself enough not to escape the damn Hospital Wing… _Madam Pomfrey handed her a cup of a misty purplish potion, which she drank at once. It tasted rather foul, but all the ache in her body went away almost instantly. _But he has a good reason… He told me not to attack Quirrell, and I was too stubborn to resist it when then chance presented itself._

Now, Madam Pomfrey had set three more potions on the beside table—an Anti-Nausea Potion, a Calming Drought, and a potion for dreamless sleep, and told her to drink them all—the sleep potion last, of course.

"I don't dream anyway." Vesperra told her, holding the last potion tentatively near her mouth.

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure, after the Cruciatus Curse." And she tipped the cup to her mouth, leaving her with no choice but to swallow it. Within seconds, everything blurred out of focus, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Snape went straight to the third floor. Now that Vesperra was safe in the Hospital Wing, everything was brought back to reality. Quirrell was after the Stone at this very moment—and the only thing left to do was to go in there and stop him. When he arrived at the door to the third floor corridor, he hesitated a moment. Would he have to face everything Quirrell faced? Or would the majority of it already be defeated?

He placed an ear to the door, and heard the low growls of the three-headed dog. _Dammit. So Quirrell got past it, but it's still alive…_ That made things a lot more difficult. Snape had absolutely no idea how to get past that beast, and wasn't going to risk having his leg bitten off properly this time—or worse. Pacing across the door, he thought frantically. _What can I do? Should I just wait out here, and attack Quirrell then? But wait, what if he somehow leaves a different way? I can't go in there to stop him… Then what about Potter? He wouldn't be able to kill him if he just left…_

Trying not to panic, he continued pacing, and eventually made up his mind to guard the door until Quirrell came out. The idea of doing what Vesperra had done and thinking to the Room of Requirement that he needed a book that would give him the information he needed crossed his mind, but he knew that by the time he got to the Room, found the information, and got back, Quirrell could have already left.

Nothing happened for a good twenty minutes, but Snape suddenly heard the sound of footsteps—but it wasn't from the other side of the door. Dumbledore came running up the stairs, with a very grim expression, quite unlike his usual one.

"I apologize for my absence, Severus, but the Ministry—"

"_You've been at the Ministry this whole time?_" he asked, giving the Headmaster an incredulous glare. "How could you leave? Quirrell's stealing the Stone _right now_, and there's no question why—without you here, nothing could stop him!" Snape was absolutely seething, unable to contain how angry he was at Dumbledore.

"Oh, I assure you that he cannot steal the Stone. I have taken the necessary precautions—"

"Vesperra heard him saying that he knows how to get past everything—and he used the _Cruciatus Curse_ on her…" His voice was shaking just as it had earlier, when she had just told him about what happened. "I want that man _dead_, and I want to do it."

Dumbledore's face took on an expression of genuine concern. "Where is she now, Severus?"

"In the Hospital Wing. But did you listen to me? I said that he knows how to get past everything, so your _precautions_ obviously failed—"

"Trust me, Severus. Now, if you will kindly excuse me. I met with Harry's friends on the way here—they tell me he has made it to the last guard to the Stone. If I am correct, he should be facing Quirrell at this moment." Without another word, he disappeared through the door. Snape heard some growls, but they quickly ceased.

_Potter is facing him? Now?_ Unable to process what Dumbledore had told him, he could only stand there. Apparently, not only had Quirrell made it down there, but so had Potter and his friends. He refused to believe it. How could three first years make it past all the enchantments that Dumbledore had expected to keep out a skilled wizard? It made absolutely no sense… But if it weren't true, the Headmaster wouldn't be taking action, because he always let Snape do everything. So it must be serious.

What did that old bat expect him to do, just go back to his chambers and go to bed? Especially with Potter in danger… He had been protecting him all year, and it had been for nothing. If Quirrell could use _Crucio_ on Vesperra, then he would be able to kill Potter easily. And yet, Dumbledore seemed to believe the boy was still alive. Perhaps, since he and his friends had gotten past everything else, then he would also be able to hold his own against Quirrell… or at least Dumbledore thought so.

But if Potter died… then he'd have failed. He would have failed Lily, just like he feared he would, and it now seemed more possible and more horrible than ever. Snape felt certain that he would die, and had no hope whatsoever. Everything had fallen and broken beyond repair, and he couldn't blame Lily for not forgiving him. For some reason, he couldn't cry. His grief was beyond tears, and with this, he dragged himself down to the ground floor, to his room, and onto his bed. Hopeless, hating both himself and the cruel world he lived in, and with no more will to live, he fell into the blissful oblivion called sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Snape awoke without the remembering the previous night at first. However, as he glanced at the clock and realized that it was almost noon, he realized why he had slept in so late, and his heart stopped. Potter was surely dead… he had to be. But Dumbledore had gone in to save him… No, he couldn't have made it in time. He didn't want to believe it, but the chance that Potter had lived was extremely slim. His heart was still frozen in mid-beat, and he thought momentarily that he had indeed died in his sleep, and was now a ghost. Of course… he would never come to peace, and now he would haunt the castle…

But in the next moment, he thought of Vesperra, who would probably enjoy being haunted by him, and his heart began to beat again. _Dammit, I'm alive._ Death felt preferable for a moment, but Vesperra surely preferred him alive, and despite everything, he still cared about her. Part of him wished he didn't care about her, though.

_Lily, I'm so sorry…_ Wherever she and James were, their son would indefinitely be with them now, and they'd all be watching him and hating him. The only thing left in this world that he had to care about was Vesperra... _Vesperra._ At once, he made the decision to visit her in the Hospital Wing. It was the only thing he could think to do, and otherwise he would soon be reduced to a heap, crying on the floor.

Only his hair had to be dealt with, as he had slept in his clothes, but he fixed it with a charm. Nothing could help the greasiness, though. Not that he cared. When he made it past all the students that were huddled together and speaking animatedly (though he paid no attention to what they were saying, with all that was on his mind) and reached the Hospital Wing, he was astonished to see Potter lying in one of the first beds.

Half of him wanted to smile in utter relief, but the other half was too confused to allow him to do that. _How… how is that possible? Does that mean Quirrell's dead, and the Stone safe? _The boy was obviously unconscious, and the table next to him was stacked high with all sorts of candy. _I haven't failed Lily then… he's still alive, and I've done my job. I protected him long enough until Dumbledore had to step in…_ But he wished he'd have done a better job at it, so Dumbledore wouldn't have needed to step in.

Snape soon realized that he had been standing in the same spot for who knows how long, marveling at the fact that Potter was alive. It wasn't the sort of thing you could just take in all at once, after all. Only earlier that morning had he been drowning in his own hopelessness, and now he knew that he still had a reason to live. And then, of course, everything else—the details about Quirrell wanting the stone, which he could only assume they were wrong about, and what had gone on down there—was a confused mess. _Dumbledore must know everything, though…_

But before he could go ask him, there was still Vesperra, who was sleeping on a bed on the other end of the Hospital Wing. Glad that no one else was there to watch him, he strode over to her. It still brought a pain to his throat when he thought of how _she_ had suffered the Cruciatus Curse…

"Vesperra…" he said, softly shaking her shoulder. Her eyes opened slowly, and she smiled.

* * *

Vesperra was pulled back into consciousness by the sound of Professor Snape saying her name, and she felt a tug on her shoulder. The first thing she saw was his face staring down at her, and she couldn't help but smile. It reminded her of the day she had awoken to find his face barely a foot from hers, and him on top of her in a… compromising position.

"Sleep well?" he said with a smirk.

"I must have, because I remembered to take my potion last week." said Vesperra, stifling a yawn. Then, she nearly jumped out of bed as she remembered everything that had gone on the night before. "What happened to Quirrell? Is he dead? Is the Stone safe?"

"I'm not sure, actually. Last night, I went to wait for Quirrell to come out so I could attack him then, but Dumbledore showed up—he had left for the Ministry before the. That's why Quirrell chose that night to go after it." Snape paused a moment to let that sink in, and so he could see Vesperra's look of understanding—and just how angry at Dumbledore it made her. "Potter had gone after Quirrell as well, the arrogant little prat, thinking he could take on all that on his own… Nearly got himself killed, but Dumbledore saved him. He's over there…" He gestured towards Potter's bed, to which Vesperra bent forward to look at. As grateful as he was for the boy surviving, he was still angry at him for being so sure of himself, just like his father…

"_Potter_ went after him? How did he even know about the Stone?" Vesperra asked.

"I don't know." he lied, still sorry that he couldn't tell her about the other half of his duties that year. "But I think he thought he would meet _me_ in there, as you and I are the only ones that knew it was Quirrell. I do seem the type, don't I?" Without waiting for her to answer, he grabbed her wrist. "Come on, we're going to get some answers." And he pulled her out of the bed, leading her towards the door.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office just in time to give them a huffy look, as if she was reluctant to let her leave without further rest, even though she obviously didn't need it. Vesperra knew what Professor Snape had meant, so she didn't ask any questions or speak at all on the way there. They were going to Dumbledore's office to demand an explanation from him, so they could know everything he had kept from them all year.

Professor Snape led her down a corridor that led to a large, ugly, stone gargoyle, which seemed to be guarding entrance to the office. He said "Lemon drop," and it immediately leapt aside, revealing a spiral staircase that moved on its own. Pulling her onto it, he did not wait for the staircase to take them up there, but hurried up the steps manually, so as to not waste time. At last, he rapped his knuckles on the door, and they heard Dumbledore's voice say politely, "You may enter."

As they did, he grinned at them, his strikingly blue eyes twinkling. "Ah, Severus—Vesperra… What a pleasant surprise."

"You have your vocabulary mixed up, Albus," said Snape coldly as he led Vesperra further into the room and they took their seats. "'Surprised' would imply that you didn't expect us to come here."

Rather than frowning at his remark, Dumbledore chuckled indifferently. "Albeit, I did expect that you would come… though not so soon. You have questions for me, I daresay?"

Both of them looked to Vesperra, as if expecting her to start asking all the questions. However, she did not notice this at first, because she was too busy looking around at Dumbledore's office. She had never been in here before, and it was quite a fascinating place. A circular room, there were many shelves lining the walls, all covered in strange, silver instruments, some emitting puffs of smoke. To Dumbledore's left was a magnificent bird with red and gold plumage—a phoenix. It took a minute longer to tear her eyes from it than the rest of the things in the office, but she then saw the Sorting Hat sitting upon a shelf behind the Headmaster's desk… And above that, portraits of all the previous Headmasters either snoozing in their frames or staring at her curiously…

Then, she was suddenly aware of both of them staring at her, and felt rather embarrassed. Dumbledore smiled knowingly at her, and Professor Snape gave a brief, amused smirk.

"Sorry." she said shortly, making sure to not let her attention wander again (As if it could have, with all that needed to be explained). "So, what happened to Quirrell?"

"In short, he is dead. That is what you wanted to hear, I'm sure?" answered Dumbledore, at which Vesperra felt as if a weight was lifted—far better than the end of exams had felt. She could hardly contain her happiness at this, and felt the edges of her lips twitching. _Oh, what the hell…_ She grinned as wide as was possible for her, and even let out a laugh.

Snape was very glad that he no longer had to deal with Quirrell, but would have preferred to have been the one to kill him.

"How did he die, exactly?" said Snape.

"That, Severus, is a much longer story. And said story begins with Lord Voldemort. On the night he attempted to kill Harry Potter, his own curse rebounded upon him. He did not die, but was reduced to almost nothing. He was less than a soul, only capable of possessing other creatures. Eleven years later, he met Quirrell, and gained his allegiance to both get him the Stone and Harry Potter. During this school year, I do believe that Voldemort had shared Quirrell's body… and two souls residing in one body can be very dangerous. You both have wondered about his ridiculous turban, correct?"

As Snape and Vesperra were still taking in the rest of the story in disbelief, all they could do was nod slowly.

"Well, one soul cannot take residence in another's body without altering that body somehow. Voldemort's face was visible on the back of Quirrell's head, to put it bluntly. Obviously, Quirrell would prefer that no one see that, so he wore the turban. As for the Stone, Voldemort wanted, and still wants, to return to full power. That would not be possible in his state, so he needed the Elixir of Life, to make him immortal. His presence in Quirrell's body was also literally devouring his soul every time he took a breath, so if he had stayed in his body too long, then Quirrell would die, and all would be useless without a solid body. So he had Quirrell drink unicorn blood for him to keep him alive until they could create the Elixir. And the reason he wanted to kill Harry should be obvious—to do what he had failed to do the first time. Now, last night is where our story ends—rather lamely, I must add. Quirrell attempted to steal the Stone, and Harry, along with his friends, attempted to stop it from being stolen. Harry made it to the last guard alone, and was nearly killed by Quirrell. Soon after I arrived, Harry was unconscious and Voldemort had fled from Quirrell's body, leaving him to die. The manner in which that came to be is between me and Harry, when he awakes and chooses to tell me."

It didn't make sense, and yet… it made perfect sense. Everything added up, but Vesperra had never thought for a second that Voldemort or Potter had anything to do with it. Of course, they were very wrong in the theory about Quirrell that they were so sure of… but neither of them could have possibly guessed the truth.

Snape wasn't sure what to feel. Relieved that Potter was live? Horrified that Voldemort had been living on the back of Quirrell's head all this time? Resentful that Potter got more fame than he deserved? Dumbfounded as to how all this happened in the first place?

He had noticed that, strangely, Vesperra did not flinch horribly when Dumbledore said Voldemort's name like most people did. Perhaps it was because she had already done so much all that year, and almost literally faced Voldemort herself… Or it just could have been the fact that she was one to hide her emotions for the majority of the time.

"Wait," said Vesperra to break the silence, "When you say '_still_ wants to return to power', do you believe that You-Know-Who will inevitably come back?" There was another silence to follow. Both Professor Snape and Dumbledore were impressed, and raised their eyebrows at her.

"Why yes, I do. And we all must be prepared for when that day comes." Dumbledore replied. Vesperra's expression turned very grave, and Snape spoke up again.

"What happened to the Stone?"

"I have moved it, and it will be destroyed… Is that all? Not that I grow tiresome or annoyed from your questions, but I have urgent matters to deal with…"

"Just one more question." said Vesperra. "How long have you known all this?"

At this question, he smiled serenely at both of them, and Vesperra felt a twinge of annoyance at his constant optimism. "Some of it, just since last night… And the rest, I have learned in bits and pieces throughout the year."

"And _why_ couldn't you tell us any of this before now?" Snape asked, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"Because the truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. Now, I apologize that I must ask you to leave while I set my affairs in order."

Vesperra rose from her seat, but stood still, staring at Dumbledore. By the look on his face, Professor Snape seemed to be feeling the same level of confusion and frustration as she was. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door, through which she went reluctantly. Scowling as they went down the spiral staircase, he muttered to her, "He always does this to me, and now that you know me, he'll be doing it do you, too."

* * *

What had happened in the dungeons was completely between Potter and Quirrell, so naturally, the whole school knew. For the next couple days, rumors that weren't close to the truth at all spread like wildfires, and Vesperra paid no attention to them. But when Potter came out of the Hospital Wing, everyone but the Slytherins started asking him to tell them what had actually happened, and people caught wind of Voldemort having been in Hogwarts all year.

The true story had soon spread to the Slytherins, though (most likely through a Ravenclaw), and it was all Malfoy talked about at meals now.

"Quirrell always looked pretty shifty to me… I knew he must have been up to something. But I wasn't going to be stupidly brave like Potter and risk my life like that…" he had said one morning at breakfast, which everyone took as the say-so that they could start talking about it.

_Oh, shut up…_ Vesperra, along with the rest of the Slytherins, hated Potter. Some of them, like Malfoy, hated him because he was famous and they weren't. Others hated him because their parents had been Death Eaters, and he was the one to make Voldemort go away when he was only a baby. And some hated him by default, simply because he was a Gryffindor. As for Vesperra, she hated him for many reasons, the primary one being that he thought he didn't have to follow any rules simply because he was the 'Boy Who Lived.' There was also the fact that Professor Snape hated him, and she hated everything he hated. But right now, she hated him because everybody was begging him for his story and listening with rapt attention as he told it over and over again—and did anyone ask her for her story? Not that she wanted anyone to talk to her, but it just felt so strange. She and Professor Snape had been protecting the Stone all year, and yet no one knew. They were the ones with a story worth telling—not that they were going to tell it.

The time she could now spend thinking about all that had happened and all Dumbledore had told them really helped her understand it all. Every passing day, she was slightly less and less confused, until she finally accepted everything, and her brain no longer hurt.

In the meantime, Professor Snape had to catch up on grading essays, so she was on her own for a few days. She took the time to pack everything, even though she wouldn't be leaving Hogwarts for another five days… There was nothing better to do.

The last Quidditch match of the year took place on Wednesday, and Vesperra only attended it out of boredom. It was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaw won, of course. There was no way Gryffindor could have won with their reserve Seeker instead of Potter. That cheered her up some, though, because all the points were in now, and unless someone from Slytherin House broke a hundred school rules within the next couple days, Slytherin would win the House Championship.

* * *

While the stress of school was officially over for the students, Snape had to hurry and have all those exams graded by Monday. He managed it, but just barely. After Dumbledore's explanation, things seemed almost surreal. He and Vesperra spent the rest of the week either brooding on their own, as he was kept apart from her by his list of duties that needed to be done as a professor, or spending time with each other.

They still used the Room of Requirement, but no longer needed the Foe-Glass, so it promptly vanished, leaving them with just a room full of books and a couple of extremely comfortable chairs.

When he was thinking on his own, his thoughts always came around to the same thing; Voldemort and Potter. Well, he had been right about one thing, and that was that only Voldemort could kill a unicorn. And then, he remembered how the hissing noise he had heard when Quirrell was supposedly talking to himself reminded him of Voldemort.

Now, this was precisely the reason Dumbledore had wanted Snape to protect the boy in the first place—to make sure he would grow up to kill Voldemort when he returned, and that Lily had not died in vain. But now, his return seemed imminent, and it was far more frightening to him than ever.

As the last week drew to a close, however, he couldn't help but feel indifferent to it… It was the end of the year, and everything was fine now. The Stone was safe, Vesperra was safe, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was open again… perhaps he'd get it next year. As for Voldemort, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

At the end-of-year feast, green and silver hangings decorated the Great Hall, and a huge banner of the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. Despite the obvious enmity between Slytherin and the other three Houses, everyone was talking loudly to their friends about the year that came and went, and _mostly_ everyone was impatient to leave for the summer.

When Dumbledore arrived, the Great Hall became silent and waited for his end-of-year speech.

"Another year gone!" he said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into a delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts… Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

During his pause, the entire Slytherin table broke into a storm of cheering and stamping, and Malfoy, along with a few others, banged his goblet on the table. Vesperra merely smirked to herself, quite proud that she had earned a decent fraction of those points.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account." said Dumbledore.

The room went very still, and the Slytherins' smiles faded a little. Vesperra's dropped altogether, as it hadn't been much of a smile in the first place.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First—to Mr. Ronald Weasley… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers at once, and didn't cease for a while. "Second—to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." There were more cheers, and up at the Staff Table, Vesperra could see Professor Snape's face screw up halfway in between annoyance and rage—it had been his enchantment that she had gotten past. "Third—to Mr. Harry Potter… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

Adding it up in her head, despite the utterly deafening cheers engulfing the Great Hall, Vesperra realized that Gryffindor was now tied with Slytherin. _No… No, he can't…_ But it was a hopeless thought, because she knew Dumbledore wasn't finished. He raised his hand to silence the school, which took a minute to work completely.

"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The resulting applause was nothing short of an explosion. Every single person that wasn't a Slytherin was now cheering, and every Slytherin looked either shocked or horrified. Vesperra knew it was coming, but that didn't mean she hated it any less. It was an injustice—after all those points she won for Slytherin! And Longbottom? _Neville Longbottom?_ The fact that it was that idiot that won the final points made it much, much worse. The one thing that had made her happy during the stress of exams (not counting Professor Snape, of course) was just ruined. _Ruined._

"Which means," Dumbledore called over all the noise, "we need a change of decoration." With a clap of his hands, the green and silver hangings became scarlet and gold, and the banner of the Slytherin serpent became the Gryffindor lion. Up at the Staff Table, Professor McGonagall reached out a hand to Professor Snape.

"Well, Gryffindor ought to have won eventually, didn't we, Severus?" said McGonagall.

Scowling, he shook her offered hand. Then, he forced a smile, which was extremely difficult considering the circumstances. "If you say so…" he muttered to himself once she had let go. Snape swept his gaze over the Great Hall, and caught eyes with Potter for a split second. _This is what I get for saving your ungrateful arse…_ he thought. His gaze then shifted to the Slytherin table, and stole a look at Vesperra, who was positively furious.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, they were all given their exam results, and as Vesperra expected, she had passed everything with excellent marks. To her disappointment, though, they were also given notes that reminded them not to use magic outside of Hogwarts.

Like everyone else after breakfast, Vesperra returned to her dorm, but had nothing to do for a while, since she only had to pack a couple last-minute things. When it was only twenty minutes until they were to sail back across the lake and board the Hogwarts Express, she had one last thing that she wanted to do.

She left her dorm and continued through the Common Room into the dungeon corridors. Once she found Professor Snape's office door, she knocked. Forcing herself to breath evenly, she waited. After only about five seconds, he opened the door, and invited her in.

It was suddenly very hard to breathe, despite the previous minute of even-breathing practices. Her heart seemed to be stuck in her throat, and she couldn't speak, either. Luckily, Professor Snape saved her the trouble.

"It's been a long year." he said simply, and that somehow dislodged her heart from her airway.

"I know. And since I'll be leaving for the summer, I wanted—to say goodbye. A proper goodbye."

At that moment, her eyes felt like she had been crying a lot, even though she knew she hadn't. But she had a home here—with Professor Snape. It was more of a home she'd ever had with her mother and father, who she was sure would prefer for her to stay here for the summer… but she knew she couldn't.

"We'll always have the journals." Snape assured her, though he felt like he could cry, too. "And we'll see each other next year." He then smiled a sad sort of smile, and suddenly had to fight off tears.

"I know we will…" said Vesperra. "But we won't be able to see each other in person for two entire months. I—I'm going to miss that."

He seemed to be in deep though for a minute, then exhaled, and said, "I will too."

For many students, it would be a good holiday, to go back home and see their family, and not have the burden of homework, and to be able to get away from all the teachers—especially Professor Snape. Vesperra, on the other hand, wished with every fiber of her being that she could stay with Professor Snape—wherever he lived—permanently… if that were even legal. She dreaded returning to her parents, and leaving the physical company of her best friend. And for the time being, she just wanted to hug him one more time before going back home, and without an excuse.

As if reading her mind, he stepped forward after a few seconds, knelt down, and hugged her. Neither of them cried, but they weren't sure why. It couldn't have been that they didn't want to show weakness, because they had cried into each other's necks before. Perhaps it was because this was a time sad enough for tears of sorrow, and at the same time, happy enough for tears of joy—so their tear ducts became confused.

Vesperra pulled away and smiled sadly, tears reappearing threateningly in the corners of her eyes.

"Bye, Professor… I'll write. Everyday."

"And I'll write back." said Snape as she turned to leave. Before she could get halfway to the door, though, he called her back. "Wait—Vesperra…" She spun around slowly, so she'd have time to wipe the traitorous tears that had squirmed their way out of her eyes already. "After all that we've been through this year, I think it's about time you call me Severus."

The tears dried up at once, and her heart did a leap. A smile forced its way onto her lips, and she didn't fight it.

"Okay… Bye, Severus." she said, enjoying the strangely happy feeling she got from saying his first name. It was, for some reason, much easier to leave after that.

Turning once more, she strode into the corridor and back to her dorm to grab her school trunk. Two months didn't seem like such a long time anymore.

* * *

**Well, it's taken a span of about five months, but I have finally done it. I have successfully rewritten the first book from Snape's point of veiw. Okay, I admit that I strayed a _tiny_ bit out of canon at first, but that was only because one of my friends had borrowed my copy of the Sorcerer's Stone at the time, so I didn't have it to reference to. But despite those few mistakes, which really don't affect the plot at all, I have completely stayed within canon. Needless to say, I am extremely proud of myself. So proud that I can't help but cry. *sniffle***

**But don't worry, because that's only the first book done... there's still six more! I will continue the story along the timelines of the rest of the books in the series, no matter how long it takes. **

**Now, this is the part where I tell you to review. And please, if you read this story and you like it, _please_ review. Don't be lazy, or just say, "Oh, everyone else will review, so it doesn't matter if I don't." I desperately want to know what you think of my story. Also, thank you to the few that _do_ review... Although, I'd like it if you were a little more specific than, "I really like your story, update soon! ^_^" I want to know exactly what parts you loved, and what exactly you thought about them. I want to know if you have any ideas or predictions about what might happen next. Speaking of which, a few chapters ago, I asked you guys if you had any guesses as the what the foreshadowing was, and no one said anything. I'm sorry, but this story has a total of 15 reviews. And I don't mean to be tooting my own horn, but this is a pretty awesome story. I see Drabbles with four times as many reviews as this. Okay, I'm sorry. I'll stop ranting now.**

**The next chapter will be Chapter 1 of Book 2, so it's going to take place in the summer between school years. It'll basically be what's been going on over the summer at Snape and Vesperra's houses... plus you'll get some real background on her parents. **


	15. Book 2: Chapter 1

**Well, this means that I have officially started Book 2. This chapter is about the first part of Snape and Vesperra's summers, and you get to see what Vesperra's home life is like. I also give some background on Snape's house and why it is the way it is, which I was glad to write, since I would love to live at Spinner's End. Also, you should have noticed that during Book 1, when it was in Vesperra's point of view, he was referred to as 'Professor Snape' (since she has a lot of respect for him), and when it was in Snape's point of view, it was just 'Snape.' But now that he's told her to call him Severus, that is what he will be referred to, unless someone besides Vesperra is speaking to him. Oh- and if you're not from the U.K., you might be confused at certain food terms that I use in this chapter. (I'm not from the U.K., I just researched it lol) But 'muffins' mean English muffins, 'crisps' mean chips, and 'biscuits' mean cookies. I'm sure most of you have read the actual books and therefore have researched this yourself at some point, but it's just in case. I'm not trying to be condescending. **

* * *

The school year was over, and the summer had just begun. In the small city of Stoneyard, Suffolk, there was a house that was altogether decent-looking, with every roof shingle in place and none of the window boards loose, but they may have been chipped or had a few splinters here and there. Admittedly, the old Bentley in the driveway was rather shabby and looked as though its owner was too lazy to wash it, but it was hard to afford a nice car in that town, so no one minded the car.

On the first official summer morning, sunlight shone through the grayish gloom of clouds that resided in Stoneyard for most of the year, giving the air a somewhat misty look. It was quite annoying to the young girl who lived in the house with the Bentley out front, as it obscured her eyesight and made her feel like everything looked a bit fuzzy when it wasn't. She rubbed her eyes vigorously upon waking, eventually giving up, and sat upright on her bed.

This girl's name was Vesperra D'Monicas, and she was quite unusual. Oh, the fact that she was a witch was not unusual at all, as she had known so for most of her life. Well, it was to her father, but that's a different story.

No, what made Vesperra such an unusual girl was primarily the fact that she was worse than reluctant to leave school. While all the other children of Stoneyard were thoroughly excited for their summer holidays, out buying sweets and planning trips to the beach with all their friends, she'd have very much preferred to skip summer entirely and return to school at once. This was strange even for Wizarding standards, as still, most children didn't enjoy homework too much. They were glad to be back at home with their families, to get away from Hogwarts for a while… But Vesperra wasn't at all.

Another thing that particularly set Vesperra apart from the others was that Professor Snape, the cruelest and most hated teacher in Hogwarts, was her best and only friend. Or—as she now called him as of yesterday, Severus. _Severus…_ Even in this house, which was about as different from Hogwarts as any one place could be, he was a comforting thought.

This place would be difficult to get used to again, as she was gone from it for nearly nine months. The bed that she was sitting on was stiff and uncomfortable with springs poking out in some places, and her back was aching from the sudden switch to it from the comfortable four-posters in her dorm at Hogwarts. There was also, of course, the fact that Hogwarts castle was enormous, and welcome to be explored, as no one, not even Dumbledore, knew _all_ of its secrets. Why, Vesperra had discovered one thing that not many other people could have known about—the Room of Requirement. But here, there was limited space, and only a small portion of that space was granted to her.

And that brings us to one other thing that she would have to get used to not having—decent meals. At Hogwarts, students went to the Great Hall every morning, afternoon, and evening to eat as much as they pleased. The food was hearty and extremely filling, and not to mention delicious. And if Vesperra wanted, she could go down to the kitchens, which Severus had showed her, and ask for whatever food she wanted. The House Elves were always creepily delighted to serve her, so much that it unnerved her a bit.

That was what she had initially liked about Hogwarts—that she wasn't always hungry because her parents were too busy fighting to cook her something to eat, or simply because she was too afraid to ask them for anything, feeling as though it may only push their tempers. Well, because of her stomach now used to being full, it was mid-morning and she was absolutely starving. She had felt a sickening emptiness in her stomach ever since she had woken up, but tried to pay no attention to it, and instead sat up, directing her thoughts elsewhere. Vesperra tried to think of Severus, as he would indefinitely distract her from the steadily growing pang of hunger, but it just came back to how much she wished she were with him and not here.

At some point, after redirecting her thoughts multiple times, her hunger was interfering with her ability to think straight, so she gave up, and flopped down on her bed (which was a bad idea, seeing as how stiff it was), clutching her growling in stomach in one hand. Only able to think of how hungry she was, she reasoned with herself. Should she just go out there and get herself something to eat? Most would not understand why she was unable to freely get food from her own house, but then again, most people didn't know her parents.

They had been quite disgruntled at her return. Her mother had picked her up from the King's Cross station alone, as her father would hate to be surrounded by so much magic. Vesperra had been greeted with a grimace and a stiff "Hurry up, grab my arm—it's not my fault if you end up splinched." This was the way they had come to Platform 9 ¾ at the beginning of the year, and the sensation had been just as unpleasant as it was then. She had been taken by Side-along Apparition straight into her sitting room, which looked no different than it had when she had left.

Her father had been sitting on the couch at the moment, and dropped his beer mug so that it broke into shards when they popped in so suddenly. His look of horror, disgust, and most of all hatred at this display of magic was enough to tell her to run out of there and into her room as fast as possible. It was a good thing she had reacted so quickly, or her parents might have found a way to drag her into it, or start yelling or throwing punches too early for her to be brave enough to get away.

Vesperra was sure that the majority of their fights, whether it be arguments over trivial things, shouting matches, or threats of magic or abandonment, were because of her. She didn't know how much they had fought during the time that she was gone, but now that she was back, it would, by no doubt, be considerably more often. Of course, she had shut out the yells of her parents while she tried to fall asleep on that horribly uncomfortable bed, and luckily, but it didn't sound as if her father had broken anything else.

However, whatever they had shouted about, exactly, could very well still be going on. To be honest, Vesperra was afraid to leave her room, in case her parents were already arguing again, ready for their fight to be fueled by her sudden presence, or if they would be still quite unhappy to see her out there, as a reminder that the one thing that they both hated had returned. She didn't know what would happen, but she did not want to chance it.

A few minutes later, which had been dragged into forever, though, she was in dire need of edible substance. Even though she had been used to this feeling before, Hogwarts had spoiled her, and she couldn't deprive herself of food all at once. It would have to be worth it. _Besides,_ an irrational voice urged in the back of her head, _what are the chances something will go wrong?_ _You're only getting breakfast; they can't do anything to you for that. _Clearly, that voice had never met her parents either.

Vesperra pressed an ear to her door to see if she could hear anything… _nothing_. Just in case, she opened her bedroom door only slightly, and listened again for any sign of bickering, to see if it was safe. There was still no noise, but that did not ensure that she wouldn't be persecuted for going into the kitchen. Nevertheless, she braced herself and exited her room, but not before checking that her wand was still tucked into the sleeve of her shirt.

There was a short, dim hallway that connected her room to the sitting room, which cut off into the kitchen. Stepping onto the carpet quietly, she managed to make it into the kitchen without being heard by either of her parents, who she now saw to be in the sitting room. Her father was facing away from her, watching the television (which he had insisted on having, despite her mother's hatred for Muggle technology), and her mother, presumably annoyed and angry, was reading the _Daily Prophet_, her face hidden by the paper.

Suddenly, Vesperra couldn't help but wonder if anything about what had happened that year at Hogwarts had been in the paper. It had, after all, been quite a big deal, what with a very powerful object that was guarded in the bowels of the castle being pursued by the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head, and Harry Potter somehow saving it and delaying Lord Voldemort's return. Of course, now that she thought about it, very few people knew the entire story, and she didn't think Dumbledore would want to share all that with the public.

Although, she figured that there'd at least be something mentioning Quirrell and Voldemort, and she wondered, somewhat fearfully, that her mother would question her about it. But once again, she had to remind herself that absolutely no one knew that she and Severus had anything to do with it, so there was no way that her mother would have any idea to question her. Obviously, she was never going to tell her parents of the goings on at Hogwarts, or about Severus or Quirrell or anything else that ever happened in the future. It wasn't as if they'd care, anyway.

Right then, as neither of her parents were looking her way and it seemed like they wouldn't be for a while, it was a perfect chance to take whatever she wanted. Turning her back on them, she opened the cupboard, and spotted a package of plain bread muffins. She'd have to eat them untoasted, but she could easily get a few and take them back to her bedroom without her parents ever knowing… As she began to open it, she heard the rustle of a newspaper page being turned, and—

"What are you doing?" asked her mother's voice in an accusing tone from behind.

_Just great…_ she thought as she slowly turned around to face them, noticing her father look away from the television screen and back at her, narrowing his eyes.

Together, her parents appeared no less unpleasant that they were. Her mother was a thin witch, and looked much like Vesperra. She had the same dirty blonde hair, though a bit lighter and not greasy at all. She also had the same sallow skin, and the same high cheekbones and angular face. And her eyes were grey, but not the blue-greenish grey of Vesperra's. Her father, however, being part Italian, had very dark, very thick hair that reached the base of his neck. He didn't often take the time to brush it, so it was quite messy and stuck out at odd angles a lot of the time. His eyebrows were just as thick (Thank God she didn't inherit that), and his skin was tanned, which looked very dark in comparison with his wife and daughter's. Then, there was his nose, which Vesperra had so obviously gotten from him.

For a long time, this had been the feature that she hated most about herself, partly because it was from her father, who she despised as much as he despised her, and partly because it wasn't a particularly attractive nose shape for a girl. Not that she cared about being attractive, which she was sure she wasn't, but it was one of the factors that got her teased as a small child. Ever since she met Severus, however, she saw that his nose was even larger in proportion to the rest of his face, and that it suited him very well. He was by far the most wonderful person she had ever met, and so she didn't mind her nose so much after that. In fact, she was proud to share that likeness with him.

But right now, her father was glaring at her over his nose with an air of disgust that looked absolutely nothing like Severus while her mother blinked, waiting.

"Getting food," said Vesperra coldly, and her mother narrowed her eyes at her. "You know, it's one of those things you need to survive."

"Don't use that tone with me." her mother snapped, adjusting her newspaper so she could read it again. "But while you're in there, you can make me some breakfast."

"Me too." grunted her father, who turned back to the television. To Vesperra's surprise, her mother didn't object.

For another minute, Vesperra could only stare blankly at the newspaper that hid her mother's face and the back of her father's head. They had never actually asked her to prepare a meal for them before, seeing as she didn't exactly know how. Well, she had done a lot of potion-making (and she was excellent at it) at Hogwarts, so perhaps her mother expected that she should automatically be a good cook now. And now that she thought about it, she had seen her mother cooking with magic before and her father cooking the Muggle way, so if she combined what she'd seen, she probably would be a rather good cook. She hoped this didn't mean that they'd be asking her to cook for them all the time, though.

Quickly pulling out a muffin from its package and stuffing it in her mouth, she searched through the cabinet under the sink until she found a suitable pan, and set it on the counter. Vesperra then pulled out a carton of eggs from the fridge, and promptly froze, not completely sure what to do next… _Oh—right…_ She remembered that there had to be something slick on the pan to keep the eggs from burning, or something like that. Actually, she knew a charm exactly for that… but they weren't supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts.

She had asked Severus about this very problem on the train home through the journals, and he had told her that the Ministry had the trace on all underage wizards and witches, but couldn't tell who exactly was doing the magic. If Vesperra did use magic, for all the Ministry knew, it could have been her mother… So what harm would be done, anyway?

Pulling her wand out from within her sleeve, she waved it in a circle over the pan, and whispered so her father would definitely not hear, "_Lubricius_." Noting vaguely that if Malfoy were there, he'd tell her just to use the grease from her own hair, Vesperra set the pan on the stove and realized that she had absolutely no idea how to operate a Muggle stove. Well, there was always magic for that.

Vesperra prodded the base of that section of the stove with her wand like she usually did her cauldron, and a bright blue flame ignited in it. Within a few minutes, she had the eggs cracked and sizzling on the stove, which she flipped with the Levitation charm and heated on both sides at once with another Heating charm, and then levitated onto two separate plates. For a brief moment, she thought of poisoning them, but sadly, she didn't have any sort of poison at the ready.

She stuffed her wand back in her sleeve and, scowling, carried the two plates and forks to the sitting room. Silently handing each of her parents their plates and noticing no trace of gratitude in their faces, she turned to get a couple more muffins before leaving to her room. Before she could, though, her father frowned at his plate just as he was about to dig in, and whipped his head around to her.

"How did you finish this so fast?" he asked sharply. "You made this with magic."

"No, I—"

But her father was now staring at the eggs as if they were indeed poisoned. Standing up all of a sudden, he threw the plate on the floor, which broke into several shards that scattered with the eggs, making Vesperra jump back. "I will not eat anything made by—by _magic!_" He stepped towards her, his face still screwed up in revulsion. "How dare you—on purpose—in_ my_ house?" He was really yelling now, and all Vesperra could do was stand there mutely, choking on her own voice.

Part of her wanted to reply snidely, "How else could I have done it?" but that would be extremely stupid considering her father's temper. She couldn't bring herself to say anything else either, but she didn't have to, because her mother intervened.

"Clean that up," said her mother, still sitting in her chair. Oh, how Vesperra wished her mum would step up and come in between her and her dad, who looked as if he wanted something to throttle.

"Vesperra, clean that up." Her father redirected the order to her, and her mother seemed indifferent to it. As she looked to both of them to try and discern what they were about to say to each other, he kicked her leg rather hard. "Clean it!" he yelled again, and watched for a moment as she hurried to get all the broken pieces and bits of egg into a single pile, as if daring her to clean it by magic.

"Oh, don't be stupid," snarled her mother impatiently. Still in her chair, she waved her wand, and the plate flew back together, good as new. Vesperra knew at once that hell was about to break loose, so she took the plate and ran pell-mell for the kitchen before she could be caught in the wind of it.

But her father caught her by the arm so that her momentum caused her to fall to the floor, suspended only by the arm that he grabbed. Wrenching it out of her grasp at once, he made an arm motion as if to throw the plate across the room, directly at her mother. Afraid of what the next few seconds would hold, Vesperra pulled her own arm out of her father's grip and pressed herself as close to the floor as was possible.

"NO—you can't just break everything we own, Eric!" her mum shrieked, using the Summoning Charm to get the plate before he could throw it at her.

"WE? Everything _we_ own? You mean, _I_ own! Everything in this house is _mine!_ All of it—paid for with the money I work hard at the Fishery for!"

"That's only because you won't _touch_ anything bought with the money I make—"

"At your rubbish job, with—with I don't even know who! You won't even tell me what you _do_! You never tell me anything, you—"

"Since when do you care? What I do is my business, and Muggles like you can't understand—"

"Don't call me a—whatever that is! I'm…"

Vesperra had been inching towards the screen door that led to the backyard, as it was the closest exit, and it was now closed behind her. All she could hear now were muffled yells… and this was only the beginning. They'd yell themselves hoarse for a while, act as if the other didn't exist for a few days, but they'd always give in to the urge to bicker over stupid things if nothing worthy of a monumental row came along.

Those things usually involved her father becoming angry enough to hit her mother, at which she'd often force herself to not retaliate with a jinx, as it only made him angrier, as well as being against Ministry laws.

Merlin, it was only her first day back home, and her parents were already doing this… And it had only been over Vesperra making eggs. Well, she shouldn't have expected any different… To get as far away from the noise as possible, she moved out from the porch and further into the backyard, which was relatively large. Finding her usual soft spot of grass, she laid down on her stomach, and lay her head in her folded arms.

Breathing irregularly still, she realized that she had only had a single muffin, and was still very hungry. _There's no going back in there for a while…_ she thought, at least thankful that she had gotten anything at all. She could only hope that neither of her parents would break away from their fight to drag her back into it.

After a few short minutes, Vesperra heard rustling in the tall grass behind her, but wasn't bothered by it. Seconds later, something smooth was sliding across her back and over her shoulder blades, rounding off her left arm and stopping once in front of her. The grass snake raised its brown triangular head to become level with her eyes, and slipped out its tongue to speak.

"Whatssss the matter?" hissed the snake, lowering its eyes in a concerned fashion.

"I'm starving." replied Vesperra in a low voice, aware that she wasn't actually speaking English. There were a lot of other things that were 'the matter' as well, but that one seemed the most relevant.

"Frogssss are plentiful near the water'ssss edge, over at the pond. They are quite delicioussss and filling."

"Er—no thanks." said Vesperra, though she did feel hungry enough to eat a frog. She smirked at the snake's lack of knowledge about human diets, as one frog would certainly not be very filling for her. "I just wish I were back at Hogwarts, back where there was good food…"

"I have heard of Hogwartssss… It issss well known among ussss snakessss. Our king residessss there, and he is the lasssst—"

"King?" asked Vesperra, her curiosity roused. "What king?"

"The King of Serpentssss… he issss the largesssst, the mosssst powerful…"

"I've never heard of a King of Serpents… And you said he's at Hogwarts? Where in Hogwarts?"

"I do not know. I have never been assss far assss Hogwartssss… All we know issss that he hassss lived there for centuriessss…"

"Hmm…" Vesperra wondered why she had never seen this King of Serpents if it was so huge, and why she had never heard of it if it had lived at Hogwarts for centuries. Perhaps only very few people knew about it, and those who did had died long ago… Suddenly, she remembered the day that Tracey and Daphne set a snake on her, and everyone in the vicinity, as well as Severus, discovered her ability to talk to snakes. Then, she also remembered another thing that had happened later that day—Malfoy hexing the empty flask to explode, her ending up in the Hospital Wing, Severus holding her down after she had been thrashing in her sleep…

At that, she realized—her potion. If she had counted the days correctly, she needed to take it in a couple days. Severus always had her come to him for it, but she couldn't do that now that it was summer. He needed to send a phial to her, and she needed to tell him that. And she had a great urge to do that _now_. But she couldn't go back in the house now, while her parents were probably in the height of their row… _Wait—I can get into my room through the window._

"I have to go do something important—bye." Vesperra said to the snake as she stood up, trying not to sound rude.

"Goodbye…" it hissed back, thankfully not sounding at all annoyed at her sudden desire to leave, and then slithered away.

Registering that snakes were much politer than most humans, she brushed bits of grass and dirt off herself and briskly walked towards the house. But instead of going through the back door, she ventured off to the side and into the narrow strip of grass that lied between the left side of the house and the fence, and found her bedroom window. Not bothering to try and open it manually first, as she knew it was locked, Vesperra pulled out her wand, and flicked it at the lock, saying "_Alohamora_."

She climbed inside, and immediately made for her school trunk, which she hadn't unpacked yet, and found her journal sitting on top of everything else. Rummaging further until she found a quill and an ink bottle, she hastily carried them all to her bed and opened the latch to write.

* * *

Severus couldn't decide how he felt about going home for the summer. On one hand, he didn't have to deal with any students or responsibility, but on the other, Vesperra was now hundreds of miles away from him. Life was always quite lonely at Spinner's End… but that's what he liked. Being alone.

After his parents had died, all he inherited was this dunghill, as he had always been very poor, and his mother had been disowned by the Princes for marrying a Muggle. The least he could do was change it to his liking. He had removed any signs of Muggle technology—wall sockets, ceiling fans, lightbulbs, phone lines, whatever—and replaced them by magical means.

When there wasn't any daylight, his sitting room was lit by a candle-filled lamp that hung from the ceiling, and was accommodated by a threadbare sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table that stood in the very middle. The furniture had been there since he was a child, but Severus didn't see what the point was in getting rid of them.

The walls were completely covered in books, which he had been eager to include in his magical renovation of the house. _Ah, books…_ he'd often think, running his hand along the spines of them. _Always there when you need them. Not fickle like people, no, they will never leave… everlasting friends…_ Many of the books that lined his walls were either potion or spellbooks, and the rest were novels. He didn't care much for non-fiction.

Hidden in the bookshelves were doors that led to the rest of the house, the one to his old bedroom right behind the armchair. Severus never went in there anymore, though… his childhood memories weren't the best. Then, two other hidden doors on the opposite wall led to his kitchen and current bedroom, which used to be his parents'. The fireplace stood opposite the front door—the only one not covered in books.

Severus had returned to this place a few hours after all the students began their journey on the Hogwarts Express, as he had to get some last few things in order, which took longer than they would have if he hadn't been talking to Vesperra through the journals for much of the time. Then, Dumbledore always liked to have an end-of-year meeting with the whole staff as a more personal goodbye for all of them, and insisted on Severus attending them. He had gotten home by Floo powder, like all the other teachers, and had taken all his personal belongings with him. That included his robes, which he didn't exchange for Muggle clothes or even casual robes during the summer, his journal, the old picture of him and Lily, and his necklace with the silver _V_, which he never took off anyway.

On the first morning back, he felt strange waking up and knowing there would be no brats to teach, no students to take points from, no Potter to protect, and no Vesperra to talk to waiting for him. This happened every year… you'd think he'd have gotten used to it by now. But he didn't—no one ever got used to it.

For the longest time after waking, Severus merely laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, wishing for something to do. It was the same problem every summer… there's nothing to do and no one to talk to, so he adapts to a pretty mechanical routine. But he didn't like that… as much as it may have seemed to most of his students that he had a dull, pathetic personal life, he'd have liked something spontaneous to happen.

In spite of himself, he untangled himself from his sheets and trudged to his bathroom to take a much-needed shower. Severus allowed himself to get lost in the warm, soothing water, because the longer he took to take a shower, the less time there'd be in the day before he could go back to sleep. Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and he decided that he had better turn it off.

Feeling refreshed and a slight more eager to do something besides sulk in his bed all day, Severus got dressed and, just as he was in the middle of drying off his hair in his bathroom, heard a thumping noise from behind. After the same thing happening all year, he never started at the sound anymore, but instead recognized it immediately for what it was, and felt a gush of unnatural happiness. Forgetting his hair, he opened the journal and practically leapt onto his bed in one movement.

* * *

_**Severus, I just remembered that I need to take my potion in a couple days. And since I can't go directly to you during the summer, you'll have to send some to me by owl.**_

How could he have forgotten? As expensive as that particular potion was, he knew he had to let a phial out of his care for Vesperra. He did trust her to handle it correctly…

_It's a good thing you remembered, but I'm sure I would have as well. I'll get a phial ready for my owl to send to you right now._

Severus went straight to his closet, which he had converted into a potion storage room, and easily found the required potion. As he searched for some brown paper to wrap it in, he heard the next message from Vesperra across the room.

_**Thanks. You know, it feels strange being out of Hogwarts. Is it the same for you?**_

_Yes, it is. How has your first day back been so far?_

Vesperra didn't know what to tell him. It had been quite horrible, but she couldn't tell Severus that she had been and was still starving, and that her back already ached from where she had fallen because of her father, as well as her leg. She always brushed off this sort of pain, especially now that she had been subjected to far worse. So what was the point in telling him?

_**Fine. I could do with some Hogwarts food though… **_

_Your parents haven't given you much trouble?_

_**No. Not yet, at least. It's only the first day. Well, they have argued a bit, but they always do**__._

Severus didn't quite believe her, considering all that she had told him in the past. If she was being treated horribly, wouldn't she tell him? Nevertheless, he decided not to press the subject. Vesperra was quite stubborn, so he knew that any attempt to get her to tell him everything would be futile. After all, he had never told Lily everything that had gone on in the Snape house… But she did find out on her own eventually.

Still looking for some paper, he realized—_Wait, I'm a wizard. Duh._ Waving his wand, he summoned a roll of brown packaging paper, and neatly folded it around the phial of Vesperra's potion, then tied it around the middle. He strode across the room to the cage with his Great Horned Owl, which he had named Lily, and opened the cage door. As he made to write Vesperra's name on the back of the package, he wondered…

_Vesperra, I was just curious—where do you live?_

_**In Stoneyard… it's in Suffolk, near the ocean. I've never actually been to the beach, though.**_

_It must be a small town, because I've never heard of it. I live in Mill Town, Cheshire—you wouldn't have heard of it either. I just wanted to know how far my owl was going to have to travel, but that won't be far at all for her._

_**I wish I had an owl, but my mum doesn't even have one. I think she did at some point, but she had to get rid of it because my dad hated it. Now whenever she needs to send something, she has to go and rent an owl from Hogsmeade. It's not that often, though.**_

_Who does she write to? From what you've told me, she doesn't strike me as the sort of person who'd have any friends._

_**Well, neither do I, but I've got you, don't I?**_

_Yeah, you do… I suppose both of us do have a rather unpleasant demeanor, especially when we're together. That's one of the reasons why we're friends in the first place._

_**Which is strange, because supposedly, opposites attract. Look at that Granger girl—she's a genius, and her best friends are two idiots.**_

That was quite true… Severus, in fact, had been very different than Lily, but they were best friends for a long time. He was always negative, with a short temper and a tendency for using Dark magic, but she was always happy and _very_ tolerant, and was nice to everyone she met. Then again, with Vesperra, he almost never disagreed with her on anything, and she never seemed afraid of him or bothered by anything he said. A negative multiplied by a negative did equal a positive…

_It's also pretty strange for a teacher to be friends with a student, so I think we're past abnormalities._

Their conversation ensued for much of the day, with Severus taking the time in between messages to finish sending his owl off to deliver the potion, then preparing himself some coffee, and then miscellaneous things throughout the day. Vesperra was enjoying it so much that she forgot about her hunger, and didn't bother to check if her parents had stopped fighting at all. Eventually, the day did come to an end, and they both realized just how long this summer was going to be.

* * *

Each day that followed was very much like that one for Severus, and the next couple weeks seemed to drag on into forever. A few days into July, however, he found in the _Daily Prophet_ an advertisement from Dumbledore, asking for applicants for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, as the previous one was dead. The fact that Quirrell had died wasn't in the ad, though, since that would not be a good appeal for potential applicants. But nothing of that sort could deter Severus, who had been after that position for a long time.

Hoping that no one had applied yet, Severus wrote to Dumbledore requesting a meeting. As always, the old man complied, but whether he did so because Severus actually had a chance or just to be polite, he wasn't sure. On the morning that they had arranged the meeting for, he had written Vesperra a message before leaving;

_I'm leaving for a meeting with Dumbledore, so I can apply for the DADA job. Don't write back—I'll tell you what's happened when I return. _

Severus still kept his journal in his robes at all times, and had it with him when he used the Floo Network to get to Dumbledore's office.

"Ah, Severus… Punctual as ever, I see." Dumbledore greeted him as he stepped out the fireplace and brushed soot off his robes.

"Of course." said Severus, taking his seat across Dumbledore. "Well, you know what I'm here for."

"And you know my answer already."

"Have you even had any other applicants?" he asked curtly.

"No, I haven't. But you know my reasons for not allowing you to take on the position, Severus."

"Some of which you a refuse you tell me."

"Yes, well, it is sometimes better to withhold information than to lie. There are some truths that you cannot know."

Severus hated this. Dumbledore was never consistent with anything—sometimes he treated him as if he should be able to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and other times he was treated as if he were a small child. What was it that Dumbledore didn't think he'd understand? The man had trusted him to do so much, and yet couldn't ever give him straight answers.

"Then why did you agree to see me if you were going to say 'no' anyway?" Severus said grumpily.

Dumbledore's eyes surveyed him sympathetically for a moment, as if he was sorry he couldn't give him the job he so desperately wanted. Then, he smiled and said, "Because I admire your determination. There was also one thing I wanted to ask _you _about—how has Miss D'Monicas been lately?"

Taken aback by this question, Severus thought about not telling him as revenge for everything that Dumbledore refused to share with him. But then, he couldn't help himself. "From what she's told me, she's fine, but she's used to her parents being horrible to each other _and_ her, so of course that's 'fine' for her…"

"Yes, her parents are quite horrible… Her mother is, at least. Vicious girl, Cassandra was. Never seemed the type to want children. And no man that she was willing to marry could be any less unpleasant, Muggle or wizard. It's rather lucky that Vesperra met you, Severus."

"Yes, I suppose it is…" he said warily, not sure where this was going. "But I thought you were supposed to see the good in everyone, Albus. Or is that behind you?"

"Of course not. I merely do not know Vesperra's parents well enough to be able to point out their good qualities. Vesperra, on the other hand, as vindictive and hateful as she may be, is extremely loyal, intelligent, brave, and heartily determined, just like another person I know… She could have just as easily been placed in any other House." He smiled again, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, well, I'm glad she wasn't… Is that all? I'd like to get back home and talk to her." Severus said, fully aware that he sounded a bit rude. For some reason, he really didn't feel comfortable talking about Vesperra on this personal of a level with Dumbledore. He couldn't help but speak of her with a loving caress in his voice, and he knew that it was no time before the old man would compare her with a certain person, or attempt to persuade him to tell her of his past, or whatever else. Besides, Severus knew almost nothing of Dumbledore's personal life, so the man didn't really deserve to know about his.

"If you would rather discontinue this conversation, then yes, it is all. I apologize for being too forward, if that is what has upset you." Once again, Dumbledore gave him the impression of being omniscient, and it was highly annoying. With a grimace, Severus bade him goodbye and grabbed a handful of Floo powder, then stepped into the fireplace.

"Spinner's End." And he was spinning faster and faster into the flames, until he finally arrived back at the fireplace in his home. Immediately allowing himself to sink into his armchair, he pulled out his journal and told Vesperra that he didn't have the job. She was just as disappointed as he was, and they both hoped that whoever _was_ chosen would turn out better than Quirrell.

Hardly a week later, Severus abandoned his grumpy mood, for he had remembered something important—Vesperra's birthday was the day after next. Now, he only faced the decision of what to get her. She _had_ told him how she'd have liked an owl… but her father would be very angry, and Severus knew that he was prone to violence.

Well, pets were out of the question, as the only other thing she would want was a snake, and for her, that would be quite dangerous. Overall, it was actually a very difficult decision, because the list of things that she liked was very short. It included him, snakes, potions, and learning new spells (mostly curses). Of course, she'd automatically like anything he gave her simply because _he_ gave it to her, but whatever he gave her had to be special…

For a while, he thought nonstop about what to give her. He read through all the other conversations they'd had in the journals that he hadn't the heart to get rid of, and reminisced about every single minute they had spent together in person in order to give himself an idea. Remembering certain days made him smile, and he wished he had a Pensieve like Dumbledore's so he could watch what they would have looked like from a side-view. But that wasn't exactly relevant at the moment, and he wasn't very happy with Dumbledore anyway, so Severus didn't ask him to borrow it.

Finally, a single memory gave him a perfect idea. It was simple and somewhat unoriginal, but he was completely sure that it would mean the world to her.

* * *

It seemed as if summer would never end. It had only been a few weeks, and it felt like forever. The only thing that made it worthwhile was talking to Severus whenever she wanted, which made up even for her parents.

Like she expected, neither of them acknowledged the other for a good five days, though that was easy, considering they both worked during the week. During the hours that they were both gone, the house was rather peaceful, and she took advantage of its emptiness. Vesperra was at least able to have a couple square meals then, but was careful not to eat too much, so her parents wouldn't notice. She originally had an idea to sneak out of her bedroom at night for food (which she had thought was a pretty good idea), but abandoned it once she realized that her father often slept on the couch instead of the same bed as her mother.

Vesperra had a strategy for getting food during the week, and that was by eating it gradually, and never too much of one thing at once. She'd have maybe one slice of bread, a handful of crisps, and every other day, if she dared, a biscuit from her mother's tin. Her parents didn't completely neglect her, though, so her mum or dad would still make dinner some nights… but there were a fair few nights where they had forgotten. Vesperra wished she knew how to do the Duplication Charm, so she could just duplicate the food, but they didn't learn that until their sixth year… Actually, she was pretty sure that her mother did that when her father wasn't looking.

As for her free time, when she wasn't talking to Severus, she started on her summer homework, which she particularly enjoyed. It gave her a sense of still being at school. None of it required her to do any magic, since students weren't supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts anyway, but instead was just essays. All the same, it kept her busy… but not for long. She hadn't changed a bit in that all her subjects were wildly easy for her.

The only thing that was inconvenient about both her parents being out of the house was that she couldn't use magic, because the Ministry would detect it then. However, when her mother was home (which was at irregular times, and not even Vesperra knew what she did for a living), she stayed in her room and practiced spells just for the heck of it. There wasn't a single spell in _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ that she hadn't mastered during the school year, but _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection_ held a lot of countercurses that she hadn't learned yet, as well as extensive information on dark creatures. She hadn't exactly read much of this textbook, as she hadn't been very keen on learning Defense in the first place, and it had been hard to take the subject seriously with Quirrell as a teacher.

While she couldn't practice them, Vesperra was sure that after reading all about the countercurses multiple times, she'd be able to perform most of them if it was suddenly necessary. And she spent a lot of time reading through the chapters, which were about things like Hinkypunks, Red Caps, Kappas, Grindylows, then more dangerous and exciting things like Werewolves and Vampires. Reading about them took up much of her time and attention, which was what she intended. It was far better than being bored every minute that she couldn't talk to Severus.

One morning about halfway into July, Vesperra was woken up by a tapping sound on her window. Grudgingly sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she saw that a Great Horned Owl was sitting on the windowsill, clutching a large package in its talons and staring at her, looking rather annoyed. It was Severus's owl, she recognized it from when he sent her the potion…

She unlocked the window and let the owl in, which looked relieved to finally be able to give her the package. Untying it from the bird's leg, she wondered what it could be. At once, she remembered—it was the twelfth of July. It was her birthday.

Severus's owl remained sitting on her bed, now staring expectantly, as if it wanted a treat. Vesperra actually felt bad that she hadn't anything to give it, but ushered it out the window anyway, saying, "Oh, come on, the yard's full of mice and rabbits… just don't eat any of the snakes—I like them."

Once she closed the window, she cut the string that bound the parcel, and unwrapped it. So far, it was just a box. Slowly, she opened the box, and inside was a chocolate cake, with _Happy Birthday Vesperra_ written on it in green icing. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she just smiled and stared down at the cake. It was perfect… especially after she had given him one for his birthday. Part of her couldn't get over how glad she was to have Severus as a friend, and that part tingled for the rest of the morning.

Before she even thought about eating any of it, she found her journal somewhere in her tangled mass of sheets (she had fallen asleep with it) at once.

* * *

The morning of Vesperra's birthday, Severus wasn't surprised at all to see the _V_ on his silver necklace shining brightly when he looked in the mirror. He had made sure to wake up extra early so he could send her present with his owl then, and she would get it around the time she woke up. Around nine, he felt his journal thumping against his ribs, and knew at once that she'd gotten it.

_**I got your present, and I love it. Thanks so much, Severus.**_

_I had a feeling that you weren't getting enough to eat, and I knew you'd never had a cake on your birthday. Anyway, I'm glad you love it._

_**Well, the food here isn't up to scratch with House Elf cooking, but I'm not being starved.**_

_What's your definition of being properly fed, then? One small, poorly cooked meal per day? You've told me how your parents treat you, and it's not difficult to deduce that you're malnourished, especially with how thin you are._

Vesperra faltered, regretting that she'd lied to him, and regretting even more that he'd realized it. Feeling her ribs, she shuddered to imagine what Severus would think when she arrived at Hogwarts in September even thinner than she was before. She sighed, and decided that it was no use arguing.

_**I steal food when they're not home, too. **_

_That's good. To be honest, I used to do that as well. My parents were hardly nicer than yours, as I've told you. But my mother hardly left the house, so that made it a lot more difficult. In fact, I think I was just as thin, if not thinner, than you were at your age. _

_**I'm sorry… that's really terrible. And unhealthy. **_

_Don't be sorry. It's your birthday, so let's not even talk about this. I wish I could spend today with you, though._

_**So do I. You know, I wonder if either of my parents will even remember what day it is. I don't care whether they do or not, because your present's enough.**_

Vesperra decided to have some of that cake now, as breakfast, since she was pretty hungry already. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't have a fork, and she wasn't the type to eat food with her hands. Well, she certainly wasn't going out in the kitchen to get one, as it was the weekend and both her parents were home, but that didn't matter. Finding a spare quill, she recalled the incantation perfectly, and transfigured it into a fork. She had always thought Transfiguration was quite an interesting branch of magic, but for the most part, it seemed like it existed for the sole purpose of showing off that you could do magic. This was one of the first times that she had found Transfiguration useful outside of class.

While she ate, they continued to talk.

_Perhaps next year, you can come visit me on your birthday and other times during the summer. You'll be older then, so I don't see any reason why your mother shouldn't let you come, especially since she prefers to not have you around._

Vesperra had a fleeting thought of living with Severus during the summer, but knew that was far out of reach.

_**Well, I'd have to do it without my father knowing, because I know he'd hate the idea of me being friends with other 'people like me,' and I doubt either of my parents expect me to have any friends. The very idea is laughable.**_

_Once they finally accepted it, though, would they want to meet any friend you had, or would they even care? If they did, then there's the problem of telling them that your best friend is a teacher._

_**Like I said, my father would definitely not want to meet another witch or wizard, but my mother might. I really have no idea, considering the fact that you're my first and only friend. **_

_They couldn't possibly want to keep you from having any friends, though._

_**I wouldn't be so sure about that. But either way, it would be best not to ask them for anything for a while.**_

Her parents never liked her to be too happy for too long, not that she had ever showed signs of happiness around them. But she didn't want to tell Severus how nearly every time she expressed that she wanted something, it turned into a fight and she somehow got hurt from it. She didn't want him to pity her. Vesperra knew she could handle her parents on her own, and she didn't need anyone's help, not even his. At that, she swallowed the bite of cake that she was chewing, and pushed away the box.

It wasn't that she wasn't grateful for Severus's present, because she was, but she just felt irrationally angry for the moment. As it was her birthday, she decided that she wanted to go relax outside in the grass and talk to Severus, away from her jail cell of a room and the stink of her father wafting through the house. So, she opened her window once more, and climbed out of it. Finding her usual spot, she laid down on her stomach and heard Severus's next message. He seemed to realize that she really didn't want to talk about her parents.

_Well, let's change the subject. Have you eaten any of the cake yet?_

_**Yes, and it's delicious. I only ate a little, though, so I can make it last long. Did you bake it yourself?**_

_Actually, I did. And even with magic, it took a while. I haven't ever actually baked a cake before._

_**You don't seem the type to enjoy baking… why didn't you just buy one?**_

_Would you have preferred a bought cake to a homemade one? I believe you just called my cake 'delicious.'_

_**It was. I just thought that you would prefer to buy one rather than spend time baking, which I can honestly not imagine you doing.**_

At that time, Vesperra noticed two snakes winding their way up her legs and come around to the front of her.

"What bringssss you here?" asked one of the snakes. "Sssstill hungry?"

"Parentssss fighting again?" said the other.

"No," Vesperra answered. "I just—" As if on cue, the back door to the patio slammed open, setting off flocks of birds in the surrounding trees and causing Vesperra to whip her head around to the source of the noise. It was her father, and he did not look happy. She told the snakes "Go" in Parseltongue, and tried to surreptitiously close and hide her journal so her father wouldn't see it.

* * *

"Vesperra!" he yelled, stepping off the patio and into the grass. "Over here, now!"

Stuffing her journal inside her shirt, she took her time walking across the yard to her father. Presumably from having heard his yells, her mother stepped outside as well.

"What the hell were you doing out here?" he growled, bearing over her like a boulder about to topple off a cliff edge.

There seemed to be no good answer for that. She couldn't tell him that she was talking to Severus, nor could she tell him that she was conversing with snakes. Still, she remained composed with an impassive expression.

"Relaxing." she said quietly.

"Relaxing? Just relaxing, is that it?"

"It's nice outside."

Then his hand flew so fast across her face that she didn't have time to duck. She didn't expect it, either, so she took a step back to regain her balance.

"I don't need _you_ to be a little smart-arse, you liar! Now tell me what you were doing!" He took another step toward her, as if to smack her again, but Vesperra didn't cower.

"I wasn't—"

"Anyone could have seen you!" he yelled over her. "Any of the neighbors could have looked over their fences and seen you, and what would I do then?" His face was screwed up in anger, the angriest she had seen him in a long time. And suddenly, she remembered why she was never allowed to leave the house—her father didn't want anyone to know that he had a wife and daughter. It was his worst fear that someone would discover what she and her mom were, so he kept them a secret. Vesperra doubted that even his friends that he went out to the pub with knew.

"No one saw me!" she said defiantly, though with a quiver in her voice.

"Oh, but you wanted them to, didn't you? I know what you were doing, you were doing magic, _weren't you_?"

Vesperra was shaking with fear and fury, and also because her journal was pounding against her ribs despite her best efforts to control it. Her right hand moved absentmindedly to her left sleeve where her wand was hidden, but she stopped herself at the last second. But her father seemed to notice it, because he had a sudden look of fear in his eyes, which immediately turned to anger.

He swiped his hand once more through the air, this time catching her so hard in the head that she couldn't steady herself in time, which was even more difficult when she was trying to hide the journal still thumping under her shirt. She wanted to stick out a hand to break her fall, but couldn't, or else she would risk revealing her journal to her parents. Landing with a reverberating ringing in her head from where her father's hand collided, she could only glare up at him.

"Answer me!" But before her father could yell anymore or come any closer, her mother finally stepped forward from the spot where she'd just been standing and folding her arms. She grabbed her father's shoulder and jerked him away, which strangely seemed like it took little effort, despite her dad's heavy build.

"I'll take it from here, Eric." said her mother with in indifferent tone, so that Vesperra couldn't tell if she was angry at her or her father. It didn't seem like her to come to her daughter's aid…

Then, he looked at her mother as if he were about to hit her too, but before he could say anything, she drew her wand and pointed it directly in his face. His eyes narrowed, not any less angry, but with a look that clearly said, "You wouldn't." Oh, her father hated magic very much, and would start a fight every time it was used in the house, but when it was staring him in the face with the potential to hurt him right then, he feared it more than anything else. With one last, swift look at the pair of them, he trudged back into the house. Vesperra wasn't exactly relieved, though, because now her mother was walking towards her, wand still out.

"Were you talking to snakes again?" she asked in a dangerous voice.

Forcing herself back into a standing position, Vesperra answered with as much confidence as she could muster, "No."

"Yes you were. Why else would you be out here?"

"To relax, like I said!" She didn't know how much longer she could hold the journal still, and just wanted this conversation to be over. To her surprise, her mum didn't argue further, but just narrowed her eyes angrily.

"Hmm. Well, your father knocked on your bedroom door, and it was locked. He thought you had run away. But I knew you wouldn't be that stupid. You got out through the window, didn't you?" Vesperra nodded, and her mother looked strangely apprehensive. "…It's your birthday, isn't it? Well, that makes sense… Oh, and I hope you know that since I gave you that ring for Christmas, you won't be getting anything today."

She didn't expect it in the first place, so she just nodded again. Stepping forward, her mother glanced at her hand, probably to see if she was wearing it. Smirking, she turned to return to the house, but stopped when her eyes moved to Vesperra's neck.

"What's that?" asked her mother. Vesperra followed her eyes, and saw that she meant the necklace that Dumbledore had given her, which a silver _S_ hung from. Apparently, she had forgotten to hide it in her shirt today, and now she was horrified.

"Nothing." she answered, tucking it into her shirt and out of sight, desperately hoping her mother would leave so she could return to her room and be able to talk to Severus. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to buy it.

"There was a huge 'S.' What did it stand for? Who gave that to you?" Never had her mum been this curious about anything that had to do with Vesperra, and she was frightened. This is exactly what she'd been talking about with Severus earlier.

Angry and worried that she might be asked more questions, she said coldly, "A friend," and without waiting for her mother's reaction or even taking into account that she might get angry, hurried around the house and in through her bedroom window. She was finally able to open her journal and relieve her ribs of the pressure. There were two separate messages.

_It's too bad I didn't take a picture then, because you would have found it hilarious._

And then, under that;

_Vesperra, are you alright? _

* * *

Severus had waited at least fifteen minutes for her response, but since he was staring at a blank page for that long, it felt like longer. Horribly reminded of when he had written to Vesperra on the last night of exams and she did not write back, he worried that something had happened to her. She wouldn't forget to reply… what if her parents were abusing her at this very second, and keeping her away from her journal? Or even worse, what if they had _discovered_ her journal? The worst part of it was, he could only wait, as he couldn't do anything about whatever was happening at her house. Finally, however, his worries subsided when a message appeared in his journal as if being written by an invisible hand.

_**I'm sorry, Severus, I got caught up in something. **_

_What exactly were you 'caught up in?' What happened?_

_**It's not important, don't worry about it.**_

He had begun to write, _Too late for that, I did worry about it. Why won't you tell me what's happened?_ but decided that he didn't want to come off as angry, especially when it was her birthday. But whatever had gone on in the past fifteen minutes, he was sure her parents had something to with it, and she didn't deserve _that_ on her birthday either. Crossing that out so it disappeared, he wrote something else.

_You're not hurt, are you? I swear I won't ask anymore questions about it, but please, just answer that one. I need to know you're at least relatively safe there._

As much as she did not want to tell Severus the details of what her home life was like, she also hated to lie to him. It always felt horrible, whether she was lying about learning curses or how often her parents fought or how hard she was hit. But she didn't want Severus to worry, because she knew from experience that it hurt worse to worry about the other person than it did to actually feel the pain.

_**My father smacked me a couple times. That's it. Now that I've told you, will you promise me that you won't worry? I don't need you to worry about me.**_

_Fine, then. I promise I won't worry about you, but I can't promise that I won't hate your parents._

_**That's fair enough.**_

As usual, their conversation lasted until they both decided that they should go to sleep. Vesperra wasn't stupid enough to leave her room to see if either of her parents were cooking dinner, given that day's events, so she just ate more of her cake. It was quite filling, but the sugar kept her up a little while longer than usual.

* * *

Severus tried to keep his promise and not worry, but that was pretty damn difficult. He wanted to know why her father smacked her, and how hard. He also wanted to know if that man had known it was his own daughter's birthday when he was hitting her, even though he was sure of the answer. _If only I had been there… If they knew I was her friend, they wouldn't dare touch her…_

September first never seemed so far away. How many more of her parents' rows would Vesperra have to endure before then? But she was strong, she could handle it, she had told him so… Obviously, she was used to this. Both of them were used to this. And both of them learned to deal with it. While Vesperra's were just as horrible if not worse than his own parents, he knew she would be perfectly fine. She might end up a little bruised when she returned to Hogwarts, but she wouldn't care. In fact, it seemed that now, since she was back at home and forced to live with her parents, the last thing she wanted was his sympathy.

_But how can she possibly expect me to feel indifferent to it,_ he wondered as he fell asleep, _when she knows how much I care about her?_

* * *

As she closed the latch on her journal and set it aside with her cake, Vesperra laid flat on her back and stared at the ceiling, just thinking. After what had happened, she knew that she could no longer sneak outside. She had done it many times before, but that was always when her parents fought and were oblivious to the fact that she had left the house. But it wasn't worth risking now…

Part of her knew that Severus hadn't stopped worrying, but it somehow made her feel better that he told her he had. _What kind of friend would he be, though, if he stopped caring just because I told him to…?_

His present had been the best thing about that day. It was sentimental _and_ practical. The worst, though, was hard to choose between being smacked by her father and her mother seeing her necklace. She dreaded her mother asking her more about 'her friend,' and thus decided to avoid her as much as she possibly could.

All things considered, it was the best birthday she could ask for, and to expect better would be optimistic to the point of foolishness.

* * *

**So, did anyone notice how I mirrored the first chapter in the Chamber of Secrets? Well, it's "The Worst Birthday," and this is, well, it's horrible, but it's still better than all of her other birthdays. Also, it looks like we have a little foreshadowing here... I'm not going to tell you what it is, because it should be obvious. Oh, and I want you to tell me what you think of her parents. They really are horrible, aren't they? They make living with the Durselys seem pleasant...**

**Please rate and review! Just yesterday, I realized that I didn't have anonymous reviews enabled. Oops. Well, now it is, so anyone can review. I expect that I'll get a lot more reviews now... And speaking of reviews, can anyone guess what Dumbledore's secret reasons for not letting Snape have the DADA job are? I'd like to see what you guys think.**

**As a side note, Stoneyard isn't a real city. So don't try and Google it.**

**In the next chapter: Diagon Alley, and Meeting Malfoy in... Knockturn Alley? *commence ominous music***


	16. Book 2: Chapter 2

**Oh God, I have _so_ much going on at the moment. It's been difficult to write much during the week because of all the studying I have to do for next week's exams (No, school hasn't ended for me yet. It freaking sucks.), so I spent nearly all yesterday writing to get it done. Then, I did some studying. It's good to know I have my priorities straight. But if I don't ace my exams, I might get my laptop taken away and then I wouldn't be able to continue this story for a long time. _Anyway_... this chapter is mostly Vesperra. It's, you know, character development. And subconsciously, I wanted to write her trip to Diagon Alley in so much detail because I would give anything to go to Diagon Alley... probably.**

* * *

The fact that Vesperra was no longer eleven wasn't at all a big deal to her or her parents, and she assumed Severus didn't think much of it either. Her birthday had never been a big deal, not in the sense that it was supposed to be about_ her_ or in that she was a year older. Why should it matter if she was physically older when Severus was always telling her how she was much older mentally? Now that she thought about it, however, the older she was, the closer she was to coming of age and being able to use magic outside of school. And once she turned seventeen, she could cease living in this horrible place with her parents, and maybe live somewhere near Severus…

But it was much too early to think about that. Vesperra was still a child, even though she didn't feel like one. In fact, the month following her birthday progressively became more of a hell. Her father showed even more open animosity when around her, to the indifference of her mother. And while her mother didn't ask any more about the necklace, Vesperra had caught her staring at where it was tucked into her shirt, and with a scowl on her face. With that, she made sure to remain in her room unless it was absolutely necessary to leave, and also to not look her mother in the eye. She could _not_ know about Severus yet, and Vesperra would go to any lengths to make sure of that.

Speaking of Severus, she missed him too much—so much that it hurt. Sure, they were able to talk every day, but she missed _seeing_ him. She missed sitting next to him in the Room of Requirement, she missed his hand grasping hers when she needed it or when he just felt like it, and most of all, she missed him looking directly into her eyes and offering her a smirk… _his _smirk, the one that only he could pull off, and fit him so well…

_It's no use feeling miserable…_ she told—or, tried to tell—herself. _Missing him is only going to make this summer last longer, and me feel worse. It's stupid to miss him, anyway, when I talk to him every—bloody—day… And it's selfish to want to see him so badly when I already have the luxury of hearing his voice… Merlin, his voice… that should be enough to make up for everything else…_

About a month before school started again, Vesperra couldn't seem to think of anything besides Severus. She savored the moments that she spent writing messages to him through the journals, and any minute that she wasn't, her heart went into a high blood-pressure mode and didn't slow down for a while. And before she closed the book every night, she always kissed the page first. But she didn't dare tell him just how terribly she wished September first would hurry up and get there, because she couldn't even explain to herself why being away from him hurt so much.

Wanting so badly to just see him in front of her, she thought about trying to dream about it, but then she remembered that she doesn't dream. But that wasn't going to deter her, because when Vesperra has an idea of this nature, she sticks to it, and the only thing that can convince her to abandon it is Severus. If she didn't dream, that could be fixed, couldn't it? There were potions for dreamless sleep, so it only made sense that there would be dream-inducing potions.

It felt good to have a plan. Having a set plan put her back in that mindset she'd had when she was getting revenge on Malfoy—there were no wasted minutes, and she knew exactly what she was looking for. So, Vesperra read straight through her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_, cover to cover, in order to find the potion she had in mind. Every turn of a page had her convinced that the next potion might have_ anything_ to do with what she wanted, but after a good five hours of simultaneously talking to Severus and analyzing pages of her textbook, she finally closed the back cover, having found nothing… _nothing_ for inducing dreams.

With one resource proven useless, she felt a sudden sinking, hopeless feeling, but brushed it off. Such a potion would have to be quite rare and obscure, so it had been on an unlikely chance that she thought to look in a common textbook… In the next moment, when Severus's voice read aloud his message in such commanding tones, Vesperra was suddenly given an idea. Severus was the _Potions Master_ for Merlin's sake… surely he would know.

Just as she made the swift arm motion to bring her quill down on the page, she faltered—_What if he wonders? No, of course he won't even have to… he'll know. I can't just… _For Vesperra, it would have been extremely degrading to admit that she wanted so badly to be able to dream. It seemed childish to have such desires in the first place let alone express them, though far less embarrassing than it would be to tell him the specific thing she wanted to dream about. So she simply replied to his message and didn't direct the conversation anywhere near potions.

Briefly, she wondered if her mother had any potion books, but didn't think for one second about actually asking her. That would have been about the dumbest thing she could possibly do. Then, she figured that there ought to be something in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _about plants that would achieve the effects she wanted. At this thought, she didn't hesitate to ravage her school trunk until she found it, and started flipping through it.

And she wasn't wrong. There were many herbs that were highly hallucinogenic, and others that induced euphoria, and others, most of which she knew, that were rather narcotic. Unaware that she was even doing it, Vesperra's mind started combining ingredients and eliminating combinations she knew would chemically contrast too greatly, then she began to search for herbs that would act as inhibitors to mild the effects of the others…

Halfway through reading up on the effects of peppermint leaves, her eyes suddenly stopped darting across the page, and slid out of focus for a moment… _What am I doing?_ Then it struck her as if Goyle had hurled through the air and fallen on her. She didn't know whether or not a potion that would make sure that you dreamt—and dreamt exactly what you wanted to—existed, but if it didn't… why not invent it? Of course, Vesperra wasn't so full of pride as if to assume that she, not even a second year yet, could develop a brand new potion, but the idea in itself had clung to her.

It was soon an obsession. _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ was possibly her longest textbook (with the exception of _A History of Magic_), so she didn't have any hope that she'd read through the entire thing any time soon, especially when she was multitasking—researching and talking to Severus all the while. Vesperra went back through all the things she realized she had been subconsciously analyzing and took vigorous notes, recombining the plants on paper and scratching many things out. It was quite frustrating, because as excited the prospect of creating this potion (If it didn't already exist, which she'd have to wait until she went back to Hogwarts to find out) was, she knew in the back of her mind that it would be ages before she could even hope to accomplish it, and that still left her dreamless, without Severus, every night until then.

There were some points where she had to take a break from her research and just hold her head in her hands, attempting to soothe the aching hunger that was threatening to destroy her from within. But it wasn't a lack of food that was causing this hunger—it was a lack of Severus. Her obsession for all this research only fueled her desire to just _see _Severus in her dreams, as well as her desire for summer to be over so she could return to Hogwarts and not have to be so far away…

What hurt almost more than being away from every part of him except his voice was the fact that she didn't know _why_ it hurt so much. She absolutely hated this feeling… it was like a swooping, euphoric feeling every time she heard his voice read aloud a message or thought of him, followed by a familiar feeling—a starving one. But it was the type of starving where you're so hungry that you don't have the strength or will to eat anything ever again. Then, there'd be a lasting sensation of her heart and lungs stopping, but for some reason, she was still alive.

This feeling was worse than being tortured into the state of tears by her parents and fellow students—it was worse than the white-hot pain that had shot up her arm one day when she had forgotten to take her potion—and it was even worse than the Cruciatus Curse. She truly did not understand what had sparked this feeling, though she knew it had something to do with Severus, and how much she missed him. Perhaps, it was that he was her friend, and she cared too much about him to stand being away... If Vesperra had known that having someone you care about could cause this sort of anguish, she'd never have allowed herself to become close to him. She would have given anything for this feeling to stop, and she hoped to God that Severus wasn't feeling anything like this.

Vesperra was fully aware of this maddening feeling every minute, though it was at least pushed away from present thought when she was talking to him or flipping through her textbook. The thing about that was, it didn't stop her from doing everyday tasks. She could focus on forming theories and taking notes rather easily, but she had become fully used to having hardly any food, and did not have the heart to steal food anymore. But the horrible feeling gnawed on her from the inside, like a disease. A disease that somehow compelled her to kiss Severus's message bidding her goodnight every time, that made her hold the cold metal of the silver _S_ on her necklace up to her burning cheeks, and that caused her to wake up every morning hugging either her journal or her pillow, with her lips in a pursed position.

Just when she was sure she'd crack soon and go utterly insane, she woke up one August morning not to a flow of tears sticking her face to her pillow, but to a familiar tapping noise on her window.

* * *

Once again, Severus allowed himself to adopt an extremely routine schedule throughout the rest of his summer. Aside from the details of each of their conversations and whether he had tea or coffee in the morning, his days hardly varied. Each day brought them closer to September first, though, which she seemed just as anxious for as he was if not more.

He had to admit, every year before this one, he had dreaded returning to Hogwarts, the place where both the best and the worst parts of his life had taken place—where he was forced to deal with children who feared him, children who despised him, and children who admired him—but all for the wrong reasons. But now, the idea of the beginning of the next school year seemed like it had when he was a child, because he had something to look forward to—something he rather liked.

The weeks that had yet to happen before he and Vesperra would be able to look each other in the eye again, which he had been sorely missing, seemed as if they would never end. It was funny, how time worked… when you wished very much that a day would hurry up and get there, time became quite sluggish, as if the forces of the Universe were converging together just to ruin your life.

However, Severus was not impatient. Oh yes, he hated that the most they could do was talk through the journals, which was painstakingly becoming less and less accommodating to his happiness… but he could wait. No matter how much it hurt, he could wait. For the most part, his separation from Vesperra for so long was merely annoying. The thing was, though, when you were used to unimaginable pain, both physical and emotional, the painful jabs of missing Vesperra were nothing.

Not allowing himself to take notice that he might have been handling her absence a little too badly, he forced himself to keep his mind away from September first. The less he thought about it, the sooner it would come—and Severus was rather skilled at controlling his mind. If he wasn't, it would have been a miracle that he was sane. Now, whenever he particularly wanted Vesperra's company, he shoved off that desire with an uncomfortable groan and focused on the task at hand—which was usually talking to her through his journal.

And he had noticed something strange about that, come to think of it. There was _something_—but he didn't know what—in her voice that had changed. He couldn't quite explain what it was, because he couldn't say that it had changed pitch or tone… it just had something in it. Severus considered that it might just be puberty… Would the journals pick up on that? Just in case that was it, he didn't question her about it. He wouldn't have questioned her about it anyway, because how could he possibly word such a question?

Part of him was sure that something was wrong, and strangely, he didn't think it had anything to do with her parents. But the rest of him knew that he must be being paranoid, and that if something was wrong with her that had nothing to do with her parents, then she would tell him. Perhaps she was just over-anxious for the summer to end… or perhaps she really was just going through puberty. Yes, it must have been puberty…

About a week and a half into August, he was preparing his morning coffee when he noticed a shape in the sky growing larger and larger, and the closer it became, the more obvious it was that it was an owl. He opened the window and a tawny owl soared in, landing on his kitchen table with a rolled up length of parchment tied to its leg. At the first glance, he already knew what it must be—the Hogwarts crest was easily visible on the front of it. Untying it from the owl's leg, he wordlessly summoned a box of owl treats and offered one to it before it flew out the window again. Grimacing, he unsealed the parchment and read what it held.

_Dear Severus,_

_As Headmaster, I am required to inform all members of Hogwarts staff that I have recently employed Gilderoy Lockhart, who will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in place of the Late Quirinus Quirrell. I hope that all current members of the staff will regard him as equally as they do those that have experience teaching, and at the very least, with begrudging tolerance._

_Sincerely,  
__Albus Dumbledore_

So Dumbledore had chosen someone named 'Gilderoy Lockhart' this time… He was sure he had heard that name somewhere, possibly a fair few times, but wasn't sure where. But whoever he was, if he was _that_ skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus would have heard of him and know exactly what he did. And because of this, he was sure that Dumbledore had merely hired him because he was the most able person besides him that applied for the job, or the_ only_ other person who applied for the job…

This reignited the steady flame of anger in Severus that had been there over a month ago when he had been in Dumbledore's office, trying to convince the man to allow him to take the Defense position. Seething that that old man would prefer an incompetent professor to a highly able one such as him, he kicked the air and, forgetting for a moment that air was not solid in any sense, his foot made contact with one of the legs of his table. Biting back a groan of pain, he hastily grabbed his mug of coffee and went to sit in his armchair, propping his hurt foot up on the rickety table.

He was now so angry that he didn't feel like summoning a potion to relieve the pain, or even remember to mention the new addition to the Hogwarts staff to Vesperra.

* * *

Stretching to unlock the window, Vesperra let a Barn Owl flutter in and onto her bed. Disgruntled, it looked like it had been stuck waiting outside all night. It bobbed its head towards her, releasing the envelope in its beak. A surge of excitement that made her forget about everything else engulfed her as she realized that it was a Hogwarts letter. She took the yellowish parchment envelope at once, not paying any attention to the owl's hopeful gaze before it exited through her window once more. On the back, it was addressed:

_Ms. V. D'Monicas  
__The Uncomfortable Bed  
__6 Nottingham Court  
__Stoneyard  
__Suffolk_

There was the usual letter that told her to take the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross station on September first, and then a list of all the new books she needed. As she expected, the list included _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _by Miranda Goshawk, but there was also another seven books all whimsically named, and all by Gilderoy Lockhart. Since the only class besides Charms that should be changing was Defense Against the Dark Arts (since the position had opened when Quirrell snuffed it), Vesperra could only assume that all of those were for that class. It seemed strange that one class would require seven books, but since they were all written by the same person, she supposed they were a set.

This was perfect, it was just what Vesperra needed—something to get her mind off Severus for a while. She cringed at the thought of trying to stop thinking about him, but knew that it would be healthy to just forget about him for half a day. After all, getting out of the house to get her school things might just relieve the progressively strengthening madness. It could have been, she supposed, the lack of oxygen from staying within the confines of her room for the majority of the time that contributed to everything she had been feeling lately.

But there was one thing—she had to ask her mum. They hadn't made eye contact whatsoever or said more than a word or two to each other for at least a week… That was going to make things awkward. It was a Wednesday, but it was early, so Vesperra should be able to catch her before she left for work (which was still completely unknown to Vesperra and her father)…

Tentatively, she turned the knob on her bedroom door and silently stepped into the sitting room. Her mother was sitting in her usual chair, reading the _Daily Prophet_, her father's spot on the couch was empty, and the television was off. As if sensing Vesperra's presence, her mother folded the _Prophet_ downward and glared at her over it.

"What do you want?"

"I just got the list of books I need to get this year—" She indicated the parchment in her hand. "—and I wanted to go today… and on my own, this time." Surprised at the confidence her voice held at really speaking to her mother for the first time in weeks, Vesperra almost couldn't believe it when she merely considered her for a moment, then hid her face behind the _Prophet_ again and said "Fine."

Taking this as a cue to go get properly dressed, she immediately returned to her room before her mother could change her mind. As she was just pulling on her socks, she heard her mother's voice echo scornfully throughout the house, "If you're going out in public, take a damn shower first!" In a huff, she angrily removed her socks again and headed to the bathroom, and overheard her mum mumbling something to herself about the grease in her hair qualifying as a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance.

When she had finally finished her morning hygiene and dressing herself, she grabbed her journal to write a message to Severus;

_**I've just gotten my booklist from Hogwarts, so I'll be out for a while. Don't write back, since I won't even have my journal on me.**_

She regretfully added that last part, since she had grown so accustomed to keeping her journal with her everywhere she went, but as she wasn't wearing robes over the summer, there was no place to keep her journal without making it obvious. And what if someone from school saw her with it? She couldn't risk that, not again.

Leaving her journal on her bed, she made sure that her wand was in her sleeve and that the booklist was in her jeans pocket, then returned to the sitting room where her mother stood, looking rather impatient folding her arms and scowling. Thrusting a drawstring pouch into Vesperra's chest, she stood aside to let her into the fireplace.

"I don't care how long you stay, but you_ better_ be back before five, which is when your father should be home. If you're late, I will—"

"I won't be late," said Vesperra vaguely, as she stared at the contents of the pouch. "_How_ do we have all this?" She was referring to the fact that the sack was almost completely full of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. For a long time, Vesperra had been under the impression that they were poor, but the money pouch proved otherwise.

"From my job in Hogsmeade, but it's none of your business to ask—" She stopped abruptly, as if she had accidentally said something she shouldn't have. Narrowing her eyes at Vesperra, she promptly walked back to her chair and muttered, "You can get going, then."

Anxious to leave, she reached for the metal pot of glittering Floo powder on the brick area jutting out under the fireplace, grabbed a pinch of it, and threw it into the grate. The fire was suddenly emerald green and taller than her, and she stepped into it. Tucking in her elbows and closing her eyes, she said a bit louder than she was used to speaking, "Diagon Alley!" And suddenly, she was holding her breath as she felt the somewhat familiar sensation of being sucked down a giant drain and spinning extremely fast—at least it felt more comfortable than Side-along Apparition. Just as suddenly, the spinning stopped, and she knew that she had arrived in Diagon Alley.

Stepping out of the grate, she coughed from the soot that had gone up her nose and brushed as much of it as she could off her clothes. It really didn't matter, though, seeing as she wore all black anyway and couldn't tell. She looked around and saw a fair amount of people shuffling through the cobbled streets, but it seemed to be much less than the usual mob of witches and wizards. Vesperra was rather glad she had chosen to come this early—it couldn't have been later than nine o'clock.

Now, she could see that she had exited the grate nearest to Flourish and Blotts, the main place for books in Diagon Alley. Books there weren't cheap, but who cared? She had a sack full of Galleons… Heading towards the shop, she saw a large banner stretched across the upper windows.

GILDEROY LOCKHART  
will be signing copies of his autobiography  
_MAGICAL ME  
_today 12.30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.

_Gilderoy Lockhart… he wrote all the books we're using for DADA this year…_ Apparently, this man was famous, but for Vesperra, that was neither here nor there. She was even gladder, now, that she had gotten there early, or she'd have been forced to get her books when there was a huge crowd… And she hated crowds of any kind. It hardly occurred to her that this Lockhart person might be the sort worth meeting even though he had written books good enough for the school to use, since she was still quite disappointed that Severus hadn't gotten the job.

Wondering who did, though, she pushed open the shop doors and stopped directly in the middle of the place, looking around at the high bookshelves. It was like a sectioned-off part of the Hogwarts library, with books covering much of the walls, multiple tables here and there with stacks of books, and a staircase leading to the upper level, with—you guessed it—more books. At once, the sound of very noisy footsteps came from her left, which turned out to be the manager coming to assist her. Upon seeing him, she really hoped he wasn't the sort of person that liked to make unnecessary conversation with their customers.

"Hogwarts?" asked the manager, and Vesperra nodded. "You're one of the first this year… Bit early to wake up in the summer, eh? But I suppose it's always good to get your shopping done with less of a crowd…" He seemed to have noticed her scowling impatiently, because he hastily abandoned his one-sided banter. "So—what books you need?"

"_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_," she recited from memory, and then drew out her list—"and the set of Lockhart's books—_Break with a Banshee_, _Gadding with Ghouls_, _Holidays with Hags_, _Travels with Trolls_, _Voyages with Vampires_, _Wanderings with Werewolves_, and _Year with the Yeti_." Actually reading them aloud made those titles sound even more ridiculous, and as if they were meant to be for small children rather than students.

When the manager returned with a stack of books, she noticed at once that her predisposed opinions of Gilderoy Lockhart were not at all unfair, as the cover of each of his books depicted a wavy-blonde haired man with a very straight nose and a wide, rather creepy smile, who she could only assume was Lockhart. Once again, the manager must have noticed her staring at the books for so long, but this time interpreted it incorrectly.

"He'll be signing here later today," he was saying as he handed her a bag to carry all her new books in. "so you—"

"I'm aware," Vesperra cut across him, taking the bag and stuffing the books into it. Then, she loosened the drawstrings on her money pouch and opened it. "How much?"

"Nine Galleons and six Sickles." Counting out just that much, she handed it to him and carried her bag out the door. There were slightly more people than there had been when she entered Flourish and Blotts, and she now recognized a few faces from Hogwarts. It was lucky that there was no one in her year, since she was sure they would not simply ignore her presence. Rather than heading for the next shop over to purchase new parchment and quills, however, Vesperra wound her way through the long alley until she was nearly at the end, where she found Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlor.

Having not had breakfast that morning and finally being out of the house, Vesperra realized just how hungry she was. The past few weeks had left her practically going mad, and she couldn't focus on food, but it was clear that she needed to eat something before long. Besides, it was rather nice to sit outside under the shade of the awning of the shop, spooning her way through a large bowl of fudge ice cream, and enjoying every bite of it. As she ate, she flipped through her spellbook for Charms this year, and made mental notes to learn some of them before she got to school. Finally, when she was feeling miraculously full, she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the table.

Not too far from there was Gringotts Bank, tall and marble white, towering over all the other shops. It was even bigger up close and left Vesperra awestruck as she walked up towards the white steps. The last time she had come to Diagon Alley, it was with her mother, and they hadn't withdrawn any money from their vault—if they even had a vault. Vesperra wasn't sure, but they must have… her mother wouldn't be so stupid as to keep all her money in the house. She knew that her mother hadn't inherited any money from her family, who were supposedly extremely wealthy, since she married a Muggle, but she had gotten all _this_ money from wherever it was that she worked…

Whether or not there was a D'Monicas vault, she didn't care anymore, nor did she even want to enter Gringotts simply to have a look, because her eyes habitually wandered around to the neighboring shops and the ones behind her, and she noticed something that drew her from her previous spot. This end of Diagon Alley curved off to the right, and there were shops up and down this small area as well, but far along the brick wall bordering a secondhand robe shop, there was an entrance to a dark alleyway.

Vesperra made her way towards it, and a soot-covered sign told her that it was Knockturn Alley. She had only ever heard of this place and knew it was a street completely devoted to the Dark arts, but was never allowed to venture in… But now she could. There was no one to stop her. Just like the curse book from the Restricted Section and the book on Dark substances from the Room of Requirement, there was something about the dingy alleyway that attracted her. After only her first step in, she felt like she belonged in there. Though the only light was provided by dim oil-lit lamps and the outside of the shops smelt strongly of rotting carcasses, the place gave her a sense of being important and powerful.

Walking by a shop that sold poisonous candles, she began to notice that the few people in the alley other than her were either in long cloaks and speaking in pairs, or otherwise standing near the doorways on the other side of the shop windows, but they all stopped what they were doing as she passed and gave her dirty looks. Despite this, she still felt quite confident and certainly not nervous or fearful for her safety, and ignored their looks, instead paying attention to the shops she passed.

There was one that clearly full of cages, some of the closer ones harboring gigantic, black spiders. Highly interested, she stopped to observe the shop through the display window. It was mainly spiders and snakes of many colors that she had not seen before, but near the back was a cage something that looked like a very large butterfly—it had startlingly vibrant blue wings, but as they fluttered, the tips of each wing seemed to be lit by an invisible flame, and then burn down until the wings were gone. The wings would then reappear with a shimmer, and the cycle repeated itself in hardly ten seconds.

Suddenly, Vesperra realized that she was no longer standing outside the window, but was in the back of that shop, practically pressing her nose to the glass of the cage with the butterfly, utterly entranced. She had never seen anything like them… _What do they do? Surely it must be extraordinary, and definitely Dark…_

"May I help you?" said a deep, calm voice from behind. It startled her, but she didn't show it; she took a small step away from the cage and turned to see who had addressed her. Looking about nineteen or twenty, he was a rather tall and broad-shouldered man, and had smooth, dark hair. There was an air of smugness about him, but Vesperra could detect no dislike in his face.

"Oh, I—I was just—" Actually, she wasn't quite sure what she was just doing. Her legs had acted of their own accord and brought her in here, because of this butterfly…

"Observing this magnificent creature?" he pressed, smirking. "Yes, quite understandable… the Emberys is by far the most interesting, and positively the _rarest _creature we have procured for this shop… But most don't have the eye to spot it from out there, when Borgin and Burkes draws far more attention…" His lip curled angrily, presumably at his shop's competition.

"Emberys…" Vesperra muttered the creature's name to herself, trying to remember if she had ever read or heard it before. She hadn't. "Where do they come from?"

"Brazil—in the rainforests." he answered, bending down low enough to examine it at Vesperra's height. He seemed to be enjoying himself, as if he was rarely able to talk about the Emberys to his customers. "They are very dangerous, and very difficult to catch, if you even have the chance to come across one… Yes, dangerous." he added at her quizzical expression. "Their wings hold a curse. Any human or animal that touches it will suffer a very slow, painful death—they will burn down from the spot that made contact with the wing, until reduced to nothing, but they will not regenerate like the Emberys's wings. Now, it doesn't land on anything purposely trying to kill it, because it cannot willingly touch another living thing. Instead, something else must touch _it_, which explains why it's so mesmerizing."

He paused, allowing Vesperra to alternate awe-struck stares at him and the Emberys. "How _did_ you capture it, then?"

Smirking again, he stood up straighter and made himself look dignified. "I and five others were lucky enough to come across it on our expedition in which we caught many of those—" He gestured to the cages holding large, black spiders. "—and we had heard of it, but never seen one with our own eyes… The more controlled few of us, myself included, had to keep the others back, as it was flying dangerously close and becoming harder to resist touching. The Emberys is also highly spell-resistant, especially to curses… it can even fly through most Shield Charms. But because of that, it was difficult to keep still, but we, ah—_encased it_, if you will. It took an awful lot of Dark spells, and all of us at once—"

Suddenly, a gruff-looking wizard that looked very much like the one standing before her entered loudly through the back room, and slammed the door behind him. He regarded Vesperra with a contemptuous look, and quickly glanced to the man talking to her. "If you're not buying anything, get out. I don't need my son wasting his time when he's supposed to be _feeding_—"

"Who said she wasn't buying anything?" snapped the younger one. "Besides, Father, I was in the middle of telling her all about the Emberys… It's not everyday that you meet someone who shares your appreciation for these sort of things." Turning his back on his father, who was now scowling at the both of them, he returned to Vesperra.

"That _does _remind me, though…" he opened his robes and pulled out a wand, then did a complicated little wave at the cage. Inside appeared a small bird—smaller than the Emberys—that fluttered around happily, until one of its wings brushed against the butterfly's wings… From the feather that touched it, the bird's wing seemed to disintegrate, and no longer able to fly properly, it slowly fluttered to an awkward position on the floor of the cage. Soon, the bird no longer had a left wing… its head was engulfed in the invisible flames, and entrails were spilling out… only the legs were left… and it was gone.

Vesperra watched, amazed, as the less there was of the bird, the more vibrant of a blue the Emberys's wings became. The man was observing the process just as eagerly, which she could see in the reflection of the glass cage. He looked at her, and seemed pleased that rather than a look of revulsion, she had a look of extreme interest and even the ghost of a smirk to match his.

"Fascinating, isn't it? They feed through their wings… When something touches it, it absorbs their life and energy… somewhat like a Dementor, except you don't necessarily lose your happiness, but you probably would, since you're dying… and your soul would remain intact. Very, _very_ Dark creature, but—"

"But that's what makes it so fascinating." said Vesperra, not taking her eyes off of the Emberys. "And if you had something you needed to keep safe, it would be a dead useful guard… Anyone enters a room with this, they touch it, and they die." She thought of the Sorcerer's Stone, and how this would have worked so well to guard it. "Not that I have anywhere near enough, but do you intend to sell it?"

With a rather impressed expression at her idea, he glanced back at his father, who was scowling slightly less now. "I must admit, I've grown rather attached to her… at least, I'll assume it's a her. See, that's another thing about these—no one is exactly sure how they mate. You'd assume that they could willingly touch others of their own kind, but as they're so rare, no one's ever seen it happen. There is a myth that claims they are born from fires fueled by Amber in the hearth—which would imply that they are neither male nor female, but it may only be a myth." Vesperra could see the fire dancing in his eyes as he stared at the creature, and couldn't help but admire just how passionate he was about it. "But anyway, I'm rather attached, and I'm not sure if I could bear to let such a rare and beautiful creature out of my grasp. What with all the trouble I went to get it… if anyone _does_ offer to purchase it, it is, unfortunately, up to my father to decide."

"But _you_ captured it." Vesperra said, unable to keep the obvious dislike for his father out of her voice.

"But_ I_ own this shop, young lady," the gruff man interrupted from behind the counter, "and Damien has duties far more important than—"

"In a minute, Father!" argued Damien, stomping his foot defiantly and redirecting his attention to Vesperra once more, "When we took the expedition, we were technically on work hours. So anything we caught belongs to the shop… Whether or not it was, I'd still keep it out here on display, though… I want to study it in controlled conditions, and very few people have ever had the chance to do so. But my _father_ doesn't care how rare or interesting something is—as long as he's offered enough Galleons, he'll sell it."

"You couldn't possibly let anyone buy it for anything less than two thousand Galleons, though…"

He let out a mirthless laugh. "For that much, I just might consider it… but we haven't any offers yet, anyway. I'm glad, my father isn't…" Damien glanced around, stopping at the doorway for a moment as if expecting someone to come in, then to his father, who was still very impatient for Vesperra to leave. "I really should go feed them… The spider's'll eat each other if they go much longer… You know, I really want to see what would happen to one of those if it touched the Emberys… Father would never let me, though. Now,_ are_ you going to buy something? Because my father might just throw you out of the shop if you don't."

"No, and I really should get going…"

"Alright then… Nice meeting you, er—"

"Vesperra." She held out her hand in spite of herself, and he took it.

"Right. Okay—my father's just about to kill me… Come back and chat if you have the time," he added in an undertone. Letting go of his hand, she nodded noncommittally and hurried out the door, avoiding Damien's father's scowl. As she started further down Knockturn Alley, she decided that she didn't mind Damien at all, and rather liked him, actually. It was quite unlike her to not ignore someone she met and not even be rude to them. But he had been nice to her first, and it wasn't a Hufflepuff-nice—it wasn't a Severus-nice, either. It was just common friendliness and mutual interests. Perhaps it was just her increasing interest in the Emberys, as well as Dark magic in general…

Things were different here than they were in Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, or home. Though much of the lot here had a very unpleasant demeanor and were lacking in hygiene, their looks of dislike were nowhere near as ferocious as the ones her fellow students shot at her. As long as she carried herself in a manner that looked like she belonged and knew what she was doing, no one would bother her.

Only two doors up, Vesperra saw the shop that Damien had mentioned, and it was very noticeably larger than all the others in Knockturn Alley—Borgin and Burkes. Through the large, dusty windows, she could see a few glass cases with objects that she couldn't quite see clearly from outside, but nevertheless, the atmosphere of the place sparked her disposition for being attracted to such things…

Gladly noting that it was empty, she pushed open the door and shamelessly stepped inside. Vesperra immediately glanced at the ceiling of the dimly lit shop, and saw several things that looked very much like torture instruments hanging from it. Her feet slowly led her along the east wall, and she examined the gruesome masks that stared down at her… She assumed, with a smirk, that they must be cursed so that whoever put them on would not be able to take them off, or worse…

As she stopped at a large, black cabinet to wonder what powers or curses it had to land itself in a shop devoted to the Dark Arts, there was a shuffling noise behind her, and a stooping man emerged from a door behind the counter. It could only have been the owner—Mr. Borgin. He was hardly any taller than her, and his hair was probably greasier. It looked as if he brushed it even less than her father did his.

"May I help you?" he asked, but nothing like the way Damien had. His voice was oily and curt, and yet, he didn't frighten Vesperra in the least. He was probably just surprised that someone as young as her was in his shop alone, despite how much she thought these surroundings suited her.

"I apologize—am I not permitted to _look around?_" replied Vesperra snidely, reminding herself greatly of Severus. As she said this, she waved her left hand in a sharp gesture and let it come to rest on the edge of the counter, clutching it almost threateningly. Mr. Borgin looked for a moment as if he were about to come around the counter and escort her out personally, but then his eyes moved over the counter and stopped on her hand. Making haste to follow his gaze, she saw that he was staring at her ring.

The expression on his face now was incomprehensible—it could have been fear just as easily as awe. Perhaps it was both. Allowing his jaw to drop a fraction of an inch, he looked back up at her face but refused to meet her eyes.

"Of course you are—my apologies, Miss. Carry on…" Then, he lowered his head as if to bow, and took to polishing the glass cases behind the counter. Vesperra stared at the back of him for a few seconds, then down at her hand. There had been _respect_ in his voice, and it was because of her ring… Could it have something to do with her mother's family? If it did, then the Lestranges must have been very well-known… All Vesperra knew was that they were rich, and that Severus had known them in school. Could there be more to it? Did being a Lestrange automatically make her important, worthy of others bowing in respect? Just how influential _was_ her mother's family?

Not wanting to appear ignorant of her lineage, she acted as if what Mr. Borgin did was exactly what she expected and continued looking around. To the left of the cabinet was a pedestal upon which sat a glass case with a magnificent necklace of blue opals, and a card that read, _Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed—Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date. _So many ideas of what she would do with that necklace came to mind with a smirk, but she moved on, sure that she couldn't possibly afford it. But her money bag was still quite full, as the only things she had purchased so far were her schoolbooks, and she wanted to buy _something_ from this shop…

There were a few more things that fell under the category of cursed jewelry, but Vesperra wasn't interested in those. Finding a case near the fireplace with several interesting items, she addressed Mr. Borgin without taking her eyes off the objects in question. "What does this pack of cards do?"

Without hesitating, Mr. Borgin abandoned the case he was polishing at the moment and walked toward her. "Ah, the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards! Each card holds a different curse—offer the deck to an enemy, and they are inflicted with the curse of the card they choose. Illness, injury, death… Only trouble is, there's no way to know which card they'll take."

"How much?" Vesperra asked softly, eyes glittering at the bloodstained pack of cards.

"Er—fifteen Galleons, Miss."

Without thinking about whether or not her mother would notice an extra fifteen Galleons gone or if she might spend too much before she returned to Diagon Alley to buy the rest of her school things, Vesperra plunged her hand into her drawstring pouch and withdrew the gold. Luckily, she noticed, her bag wasn't even half-empty yet. Mr. Borgin led her over to the counter where he stowed the gold in a locked box, then back to the case, where he lifted the glass with a flick of his wand.

Grabbing the deck of cards, he lowered the glass once more and summoned a small, intricately designed box that seemed to be meant for the cards, and placed them neatly inside. "Here you are, Miss… I do feel sorry for anyone thick enough to cross you," he added with a derisive laugh.

Vesperra took the box, and eyed it maliciously for a moment before carefully putting it in the bag with her books. "Yes… how _unfortunate_ for them." With a wry smile, she waved her hand sharply in goodbye and left the shop, still astounded at how much respect she had been shown. Though she knew little about the Lestrange family or exactly how old and noble they were, she knew that everyone else here would treat her the same—once they caught sight of her ring.

In the next few shops she cared to stop by and have a look inside, she made sure to use hand gestures or make some casual movement with her hand that would ensure her ring being noticed. She did not buy anything else, however, since she was now trying to keep from spending too much money. There were a lot of things that coaxed involuntary twitches of her hand toward her money bag, though—little silver spider-looking things that emitted poisonous gas, black silk cloths that acted like invisibility cloaks to any object you wanted to keep others from seeing, crystal skulls whose use she wasn't sure of, but they looked cool…

Near the end of Knockturn Alley was a bookstore, but it was absolutely nothing like Flourish and Blotts. Like the rest of the shops there, it was dark and dusty, and the inside was dimly lit. But Vesperra wasn't any less intrigued, and entered the place to see a few wizards and witches examining the shelves. They were all quite sullen, and one old witch with frizzled hair that was wearing a long shawl was missing several teeth. A couple of them glanced at her as she walked in, but soon went back to what they were doing.

Vesperra could only wonder what all the books held, because as much as she wanted to, she couldn't flip through every one of them. One wall was entirely devoted to potions, which automatically sparked her interest. Running her fingers along the leather spines, she inhaled the musty scent and thoroughly enjoyed it. Book after book made it into her hands to be skimmed with pleasure, including _Elixirs of Seduction and Absolute Control _and _Tortures Concealed in a Flask_. She tried her best not to stop and read through every one of those gruesome potions, but her eyes flashed with unmistakable bad intentions and her lips curled into an unpleasant smile.

After reluctantly putting away _Self-Preservation at the Cost of Others_, Vesperra noticed a thick book bound in greenish leather, its title gleaming in silver letters: _Known Poisons and Their Antidotes_. It wasn't a fancy or creative title, but it didn't need to be. Everything that it contained was clearly stated, and Vesperra didn't hesitate in pulling it from the shelf.

Skimming through it, she saw that it was extremely detailed in explaining the poisons and their effects, as well as the instructions for brewing them and various other facts, such as who invented each one and when, or how common it was. Immediately after each poison was a similar page for its antidote, if it even had one. Considering how thick the book was, there must have been a few hundred poisons in there… And that was it for Vesperra. She didn't care how expensive it was—she was going to buy it.

As she clapped the book shut, a dust cloud shot into her face, which she ignored, and strode over to the counter. A man with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and a wiry goatee stood behind it, scribbling something on a roll of parchment. He looked up as Vesperra came to a halt in front of him and, a bit too loudly, dropped the book on the counter. Noticing his narrowed eyes, she figured he might not want to sell such a book to a child, so she dropped her money bag on the counter as well. And just for good measure, she let the ring on her left hand come into obvious view. His expression changed almost at once.

"Six Galleons," said the man, pulling the book towards him to check the title. He continued to stare at her ring hand with mingled respect and curiosity as she grabbed six large, gold coins from the bag and set them on the counter. Without another word, Vesperra pulled the drawstrings tight and slid the book of poisons into her other bag, which was becoming heavy, and left the shop. As the only other place before the dead end was empty and seemed to be abandoned, she started back down the way she came.

The same dodgy-looking characters ceased their muttering as she passed, but there were some new faces leering suspiciously at her from the shadows of doorways. All the same, she ignored them and only looked straight ahead as she wound her way back through the turns she remembered taking. It was lucky she had a good sense of direction…

Just before the left turn she knew would put her back in front of Borgin and Burkes, two people came around the corner, and stopped a few feet from her. Vesperra immediately recognized the boy standing closest to her, who had slicked back, white-blonde hair, cold grey eyes, a pointed chin, and a permanently smug smile etched upon his face—Draco Malfoy. And the man that stood behind him could only be his father, with his hair of the same color but long enough that it reached far past his shoulders, and the same eyes and chin. He carried a black walking stick topped with a silver serpent's head, its mouth wide open as if ready to strike.

"Grease-perra?" asked Malfoy with an unpleasant smirk, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." she snapped back, wishing she could just maneuver around them and leave. Meeting Malfoy and his father here was the last thing she wanted, though she realized it wasn't completely unexpected. Vesperra had seen Lucius Malfoy once before, when he sat next to Severus at the first Quidditch game during her first year, but that had been from a distance. Up close, he bore such a resemblance to his son, especially with the look he was giving her at the moment. The dim light of Knockturn Alley made for an ominous setting, which only made it worse.

The young Malfoy's smirk quickly became a scowl, and he made to take a step forward—probably to insult her, but his father put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him still and stepping forward himself.

"So _this_ is the D'Monicas girl you have been telling me about…" Mr. Malfoy drawled, now with a look of feigned politeness and mild interest.

Vesperra couldn't help but let out a mocking snort and say silkily, "Been talking about me, Malfoy? Got a crush?"

Before Draco could bring his tongue to his teeth to retort angrily, his father seemed to tighten his grip on his shoulder and look down at him. "Yes, Draco, I have been wondering the same thing…"

"As if _anyone_ would ever like someone like _her_…" he spat, his expression full of disgust. Mr. Malfoy then took another step forward so he stood beside his son rather than behind him, and reached out with his walking stick, running the snake's head through her hair from the roots to the tips. Repulsed, Vesperra drew her head away, but he just leaned forward still, smirking creepily.

"Now, now, Draco… She _is_ in Slytherin, isn't she? So she must have some likeable traits…" Malfoy and Vesperra then shared a look of mutual loathing for each other, but also in mutual agreement that they would _never_ even be so much as on first-name terms.

"Careful, Father, you don't want to get too much grease on that…" Finally, Mr. Malfoy drew his walking stick back to his side and, after touching the silver snake head, promptly wiped his hand on his cloak.

"I hear that you have beaten Draco in all the exams, especially Potions—"

"Only because Snape loves her," Malfoy interrupted, not to the surprise of his father. He scowled towards Vesperra, spitting every word with malice. "just because she's got a big nose and greasy hair like him." At this, she felt angry enough to curse him, but wouldn't dare do so in front of his father or outside school. She wanted so very much to put those Malignant Cards to use, but couldn't see how she could do that casually in this situation.

"I was under the impression that Severus was your favorite teacher, seeing as he's your Head of House and an old family friend…" said Mr. Malfoy.

"He _is_, but like I told you earlier, Father, all the teachers have favorites—"

"Surely, you are one of them? And when you told me this, you were referring to the Mudblood Granger, not Miss D'Monicas."

"Professor Snape hates Granger, and her marks are as good as mine." Vesperra snapped, suddenly struggling to hide her resentment that Malfoy was visibly Severus's favorite in class. Of course, he didn't know _exactly_ how much she hated Malfoy, much of it was simply because he hated Potter a lot more, and he was, for the most part, trying not to give anyone a reason to believe they were close… but she still didn't like that Malfoy got any attention from Severus at all.

Mr. Malfoy gave his son a swift look as if to say "Exactly," and Vesperra smirked at the lengths Malfoy's father went to humiliate him. For a moment, she wondered if this was the reason that he was such a damn tosspot all the time, but then decided she didn't care.

"Come, Draco," Mr. Malfoy said after several moments of silence and his son looking absolutely abashed. "We have a couple more things to take care of…" Vesperra stepped aside so they could pass her, and saw Malfoy glance down at her bag, squinting and probably trying to see what she had bought in Knockturn Alley. When she held the bag closer to her side and turned slightly to hide its contents, he threw her one last hateful look before following his father. Without waiting for them to disappear out of sight, she began walking briskly down the alley, taking various turns until she could see Gringotts in the distance, and at that point hurried forward.

Somewhat reluctant to leave Knockturn Alley, yet glad to be father away from the Malfoys, she thought about the remaining things she needed to buy for the upcoming school year. As she did, she noticed that Diagon Alley was much fuller than it had been before she took her detour, and she could now recognize many of her fellow students from Hogwarts. In fact, at that moment, she was barely fifty feet away from Harry Potter and the Weasleys, who were all leaving Gringotts.

Grimacing, she turned and strode past various shops, deciding which one to stop by first. She passed Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, but after thinking about it for a minute, decided that she hadn't grown enough to need new ones. Two doors down at a wizard's stationary shop, she bought some new parchment, quills, and ink. Soon, the streets were less than half as crowded as they were only minutes ago, and Vesperra saw the reason for the lack of people at once. It seemed as though nearly every person in Diagon Alley was huddled around Flourish and Blotts, obviously waiting to get in and have their books signed by Gilderoy Lockhart. Annoyed at how susceptible people were to fame, yet glad that she wouldn't have to maneuver her way through a gaggle of people, she continued her school shopping.

As she passed several more shops, she came to the front of Ollivander's and slowed down a bit. Obviously she wasn't going to go in, but she suddenly remembered when she had went there with her mother a year ago to buy her wand, and could imagine the memory perfectly in her head…

It had been the first place her mother took her to, as she seemed to think a wand was the most important thing a witch should have. Slowly, she had followed her into the shop, but it was empty. They had only had to wait for a minute before the wizened Mr. Ollivander emerged from between shelves full of wand boxes and introduced himself. Vesperra distinctly remembered him looking misty eyed at her mother, as though focusing on a distant memory, and saying, "Miss Lestrange—how good to see you in here again… I haven't forgotten the day I sold you your wand—Twelve inches, Willow, and Phoenix feather core, wasn't it?"

_"Yes—and it's D'Monicas now." her mother said curtly. _

Mr. Ollivander had then measured every length of Vesperra's body you could think of, which had taken a good ten minutes before she actually started trying out wands. It had been agony, trying out each wand and failing to make it do anything, fearing with every new one that none of the wands would work for her. But eventually, with a slash of a thin black wand he had given her—10 ½ inches, Blackthorn, and core of Dragon heartstring—she managed to produce a small column of fire in the air, leaving her mother stone-faced and Mr. Ollivander impressed… and possibly confused. Regarding her with uncertainty, he had taken the wand from her and placed it in a box, then her mother had paid for it and quickly ushered her out of the shop.

Now, as she passed the place, she slid her wand gently out from inside her sleeve, and turned it in her fingers. She wondered why Mr. Ollivander had that expression when she found a wand that worked, and why he didn't explain it. And she wondered whether it was normal to produce a column of fire when you were merely trying out wands, and not even using a spell. Well, she _had_ been quite angry at the time, since none of the wands were working for her… Rolling it in her hands, she realized just how much she relied on her wand—she was much fonder of it than she could ever be to a person, save Severus. And after replaying that scene in her head, she also realized that it was then that she first discovered her mother's maiden name, and then returned to thinking about how she had been treated in Knockturn Alley because of it…

Within an hour, she had visited Slug & Jiggers Apothecary to replenish her potion-making kit and bought lunch from one of the street vendors. After finishing, she figured that there was absolutely nothing else to do, but remained sitting where she was, as she really didn't want to go back home. Finally, though, she decided that she ought to get back a few hours before five, since there was a good chance that her father would come home early. Vesperra entered the nearest shop—Twilfit and Tattings—and asked if she could use their fireplace. Taking a pinch of Floo powder, she threw it into the flames, stepped in, and said "Number six, Nottingham Court!"

There was the familiar spinning sensation, and when it stopped, she was staring into her empty living room. She stepped out, taking care to clean up all the soot from the floor when she did. It was a shame she didn't know any cleaning spells yet… but as her mother wasn't home, she wouldn't have been able to use one anyway. Vesperra dragged her bag full of everything she had bought to her room and set it on her bed, glad to be relieved of the weight on her shoulders—literally.

Before writing to Severus to tell her all about that day, she decided to sort out the things she had bought. Removing them from the bag one by one, she got everything laid out on her bed. Glancing at all the Lockhart books in disgust, she piled them together and, along with the second year book for Charms, set them on her school trunk to be properly organized later. She left _Known Poisons and Their Antidotes_ where it was, intending to read more intently into it later, and picked up the small box that held the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards. There were Chinese characters in the center and, observing it up close, she could see that the designs around the edges were colorful, detailed depictions of each of the things that the cards caused. Vesperra set that down as well, silently thanking the Chinese for inventing such a thing.

Soon enough, she had everything from the Apothecary sorted into her potion-making kit, and all her parchment, ink, and quills were sitting atop her schoolbooks. Eager to be finished with all that, she grabbed her journal and one of her new quills.

* * *

When Vesperra told Severus that she'd be in Diagon Alley for much of the day, he could not help but feel disappointed that he'd be alone for all that time, save for his books. He wondered if she would be going alone… _Surely she can handle it herself, she's highly independent…_ But who would she meet there? What if someone from school saw her and aggravated her to the point where she resorted to using magic, or used it on accident? Then she'd be expelled…

_No, don't think like that, dammit… Besides, she'd only get a warning… And she's much better at controlling herself now…_ Forcing himself to think positively (which was an unlikely feat for someone like him), he spent the rest of the morning drinking coffee in silence and reading the _Daily Prophet_. Then came the afternoon, and he killed time by flipping through one of his various books. Around a quarter past two, he felt a very sudden _thump_ against his ribs, and tossed the book he was reading onto the couch as he thrust a hand inside his robes.

* * *

_**I'm finally back—sorry I kept you waiting so long, but I prefer Diagon Alley to my house.**_

_It's fine. And I think you really needed the fresh air and sunlight anyway._

_**It's not as if you get much of either yourself… Both of us would look quite strange with a tan.**_

_If you did come back to Hogwarts with a tan, I don't think I'd like you that much anymore._

Vesperra grinned—she always knew when he was being sarcastic. His snide comments were insulting to most people, but they just hadn't learned to appreciate good sarcasm…

_**Who could blame you? But yes, I really did need some fresh air that wasn't just from my bedroom window being open.**_

_Did you go on your own?_

_**Yes, and don't go worrying about me. I was perfectly fine on my own.**_

_I wasn't going to worry about you, I was just curious. _

_**Well, I'm sorry then. Anyway, I couldn't help but notice that almost the entire booklist was written by Gilderoy Lockhart, and that same person was at Flourish and Blotts for a book signing today. Who's the new DADA teacher that assigned all those?**_

_Coincidentally, Gilderoy Lockhart. I suppose that must be why Dumbledore hired him, because I had hardly heard of him when the Headmaster sent the letter to all the professors saying that he'd been employed. Did you see what he was like or enough to know whether or not I'll hate him?_

_**You'll hate him anyway, since he has the job you want. But no, I didn't bother going anywhere near Flourish and Blotts during the book signing, so I haven't seen first-hand what he's like. By the look of his books, though, he smiles too much. The covers are just him, smiling next to some creature he's defeated.**_

_Well, I'm definitely not looking forward to meeting him, let alone have him as a fellow teacher. Dumbledore's letter made it sound as if he would be difficult to tolerate. Anyway, did anything interesting happen in Diagon Alley?_

This was one of those situations where Vesperra was faced with only one choice, and that was to lie to Severus. To be honest, there were many things she wanted to tell him about—the Emberys, how Mr. Borgin and the other shop owners had treated her with so much respect because of her ring, and how she had come across Draco and Lucius Malfoy. But she knew how Severus would react if he knew she'd been in Knockturn Alley—he'd worry for her safety, get angry at her for going there in the first place, interrogate her about what she'd bought there, then become nervous at how interested she was in the Dark Arts. She couldn't have that. But technically, she wouldn't be lying. He had asked her about Diagon Alley, not Knockturn Alley…

_**Unfortunately, no. However, there was one interesting thing about the trip in general—my mother gave me an entire bag full of Galleons to spend. I didn't even spend half the bag, of course, but I had no idea she had so much money. She can't have inherited anything, and she doesn't tell me or my father what she does for a living, which makes me think that she's doing something illegal. Whether she is or not, it just irks me that we've been rich this entire time and I never knew.**_

_She doesn't tell you where she works? That's strange… Although, I doubt she'd be able to get away with doing something illegal for so long. _

_**Actually, just this morning she let slip that she works in Hogsmeade, but then she seemed like she was angry at herself for saying it on accident. But whatever money she makes, my father won't let her exchange it for Muggle money and pay the rent, or use it to buy anything that he uses or eats. I expect she spends it on herself, which of course leaves a lot left over.**_

_Perhaps she has a degrading job and is ashamed to tell her family._

Severus's mind automatically went to guessing that Vesperra's mother was a prostitute, but he mentally slapped himself for thinking that. Besides, prostitutes didn't work during the day…

_**Like a waitress? I can honestly see her doing something like that, but I don't think she'd be ashamed of it. And it seems unlikely anyway, since her work hours are never the same. Some days she works a few hours in the morning, and others she's out all day. **_

_I can't think of anything that would require irregular work hours, but whatever it is that she does, you'll likely find out next year._

_**Oh, I completely forgot third year students and up can go to Hogsmeade… It's too bad I have to wait another year, then. I can hardly wait just to get back to Hogwarts in a couple weeks.**_

And that's where Vesperra started to have those feelings again—the ones that ached to see Severus again, which she had forgotten during her trip to Diagon Alley. Luckily, they weren't as intense as before, but for the rest of the day, she had trouble keeping the longing out of her mind when she wrote her messages, because she knew it would be discernable in her voice when Severus heard them.

* * *

When Severus decided that he needed sleep, Vesperra agreed that she did as well and bade him goodnight. However, she did not go to sleep any time soon after closing the latch, because she didn't feel the least bit tired. How could she, with all the thoughts racing through her head?

There was so much to think about, she could not comprehend the tangled mess of every single question and fear and longing that she had. It was the pain that she had been enduring nonstop for the past weeks that stayed with her through everything else that rose to the surface of her mind of its own accord, as well as the obsession to either find or invent a dream-inducing potion. Suddenly, it hit her like a stab in the midst of all these dull blows to the stomach—_Why didn't I look harder when I was in the bookstore in Knockturn Alley? I wasn't even been thinking about it then, but if I was, I'd have had the chance to look, and I might have found something!_ She punched her bed in anger, and ignored the pain that was now in her hand from hitting a spring.

When she finally calmed down from that thought, she tried to rationalize, which always helped… _Wait—I wouldn't have found it in a shop for books on the Dark Arts… those potion books were all on things that would hurt other people, or involved bad intentions… And I can always search for one when I get to Hogwarts, can't I? _At that, she started missing Severus again, but her head was still swimming with everything else that had gone on that day.

All that she had learned about the Emberys was completely forgotten for that night, as it was hopelessly insignificant compared to the other things… especially all she wanted so desperately to know about her mother's side of the family. Mr. Borgin and the others had practically become different people the moment they saw her ring—she doubted they'd have treated Lucius Malfoy any better. It didn't take a genius to realize that the Lestranges must have had a high status on the hierarchical level of Wizarding families, but Vesperra wanted to know what they'd done to get that way. They were rich—that much was easy to guess—and pureblood, so that would indefinitely work to their advantage… but it couldn't have been just that. They must have had done something important if they were so widely known and respected… to everyone except her.

Vesperra didn't have to wonder why her mother had never told her about her family—she obviously hated them, as they'd disowned her for marrying a Muggle. So naturally, she wouldn't want to talk about them… But she _had_ stolen her sister's ring. Perhaps she had done that before she got married… Either way, that's exactly what she was curious about—Her mother had a sister that Vesperra never knew of, and there was surely much, much more to the Lestrange family… And Severus had known her mother's cousins… _Severus… We talked about them, but he didn't bother to mention how rich or well-known they were… All he said was that he knew them._ It didn't make sense, but she couldn't ask him about it without revealing that she'd gone to Knockturn Alley. She couldn't ask her mum, either… _Arghh!_ This was just another thing she'd have to wait to get to Hogwarts to find out… And it was hell.

Intertwined with those musings and unable to untangle themselves from all else were the two things she had bought in Knockturn Alley, and what she would do with them. Most of those ideas were directed towards Malfoy, but it seemed a waste to both curse him _and_ poison him. Nevertheless, she knew both of them would prove theirselves very useful in the future…

For the rest of her sleepless night, she decided that she ought to quit brooding and do something productive, or at least to get her mind off things. It was difficult to decide whether to continue her research through _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _for the notes she had been taking or indulge herself in _Known Poisons and Their Antidotes_, so she alternated. As much as she tried, though, she couldn't get Severus off her mind for so much as a second.

* * *

**Like I said- character development. I really enjoyed writing the interaction between Vesperra and Damien, since he actually treats her nicely right off the bat simply because she's interested in his butterfly. Speaking of which, it was also rather fun to invent a creature, especially one that I know Vesperra would love. Plus, I just like Damien. I don't think he'll be a recurring character, but who knows- she might meet him again next year...**

**And what is this feeling that Vesperra is feeling? She doesn't recognize it, because she's never felt it before. Will it go away once she returns to Hogwarts, or only become stronger? What will she do to discover the truth about the Lestranges, and what it means to be one of them? Then there's that book of poisons... is it really a good idea to let Vesperra have that? And who the hell is this Lockhart person?**

**In the next chapter: Getting Back to Hogwarts, Snape's Chance**

**Please review! It would mean a lot to me, and I swear Karma will reward you dreams of Snape tonight. (Unless you're a guy... then you'll get a cookie or something. Idk.)**


	17. Book 2: Chapter 3

**I'm sorry it took longer than usual... Last week was exam week, so I couldn't get much done during the week, and then my house was bombed for fleas on Saturday so I hardly got any done then. But I really like this chapter, so it should be worth the wait!**

* * *

"For what I believe is the forty-seventh time since the retirement of Galatea Merrythought, I am glad—for want of a better word—to introduce all of you to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I daresay many of you have heard of him prior to my letter—"

Dumbledore was then cut off by the very man he was talking about as a wizard in robes of lurid violet stepped forward, grinning widely to show off his perfectly white teeth. "And why shouldn't they, Headmaster? Not a day goes by when there's no mention of me in any magazine, or no owls bring several pounds of fanmail!" He then flashed them all another smile, and put his hands on his hips. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award—so pleased to meet all of you!"

Lockhart looked around expectantly, as if waiting for applause from his fellow staff members. When all he received were either weak smiles or glares, he began moving about the staffroom, talking with each teacher individually. Severus swept the Staff Room with his dark eyes, finally narrowing them at the Headmaster and stiffly making his way towards him.

"Not making predisposed judgments about Gilderoy, are you, Severus?" said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling as serenely as ever.

"It isn't as if you had no idea I would… you _did_ hint at it in your letter," he replied, folding his arms over his chest and letting his lip curl into a snarl. "And they weren't completely predisposed. Vesperra told me about him." Severus merely muttered the last part so as to not let anyone but Dumbledore hear.

"Naturally, naturally…" said Dumbledore casually, now looking away. He suddenly seemed to be very interested in the floor panels. Severus was in the middle of drawing breath to ask snidely, "What exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?", when Lockhart left his conversation with Madam Hooch ten feet away and started towards them.

Dumbledore glanced up from the floor, then grinned beneath his silvery beard. "Looks like you have some acquaintance to do, Severus. I'll be with Poppy—my knees have been quite unwilling to bend all the way lately…"

"_No…_" Severus breathed through gritted teeth as he watched Dumbledore walk away and Lockhart draw closer. "Albus—don't—leave me with _him_—ah…"

"The Headmaster tells me you are the Potions Master here," Lockhart said brightly and rather loudly, holding out one hand. Reluctantly removing his right hand from between his left arm and chest, he slowly shook the man's hand and nodded.

"Severus Snape," he introduced himself curtly, too repulsed by Lockhart's unyielding smile and letting go of his hand.

"Well, Severus, I was quite the skilled potioneer myself—and still am, of course. I would have gone for a career in the field, but where would I be today? _Famous_ for discoveries in potion-making, and not the countless records of prowess I've shown defending defenseless citizens from the beasts that walk this Earth? No, no… surely not. See, I don't think the constant fumes would help my desirability, either. Why, just think of all the grease that would accumulate in my hair! No, even with the most charming smile and _these_ eyes, one fault can ruin everything… But that does not mean I've deliberately forgotten anything! Still fresh in my mind, in fact—I was a Ravenclaw, after all… Perhaps I could give you a few tips, and share some of my expertise."

Lockhart didn't seem to have noticed that not only did Severus not give a damn about anything he had to say, but also that he was absolutely seething—so much that he might have burnt a hole through the floor where he stood. The look of loathing he had been giving him must have been misinterpreted as curiosity, since the man wasn't at all bothered or anything short of enthusiastic when he had spoken.

"That will not be necessary," Severus said and, unable to even look at this man any longer, moved away and towards Dumbledore again. The old Headmaster looked amused, and waited for him to voice the complaints that must have been obvious to be struggling to escape as wild kicks and punches.

"Why are you punishing me?" he asked blandly despite the fury in his eyes.

"Punishing you?" said Dumbledore. "I'm doing no such thing. But now I ought to, considering how you've forgotten common courtesy and haven't asked me about my knee… Nevermind that, though. However, Poppy informed me during our brief conversation that her stock is running low on various antidotes—the basic ones—and that the majority of sicknesses occur in the beginning of—"

"Yes, alright," Severus stopped him short, knowing how overly paranoid Madam Pomfrey was about the students' health.

"Excellent. I trust you'll be right on it, as usual… And perhaps you will have some _assistance_ this time." Dumbledore all but winked, then strode off in another direction again to converse with another teacher, leaving Severus to contemplate what he'd said.

_Assistance? But who…_ It became obvious without another moment's pondering—_Hmm… I suppose Vesperra would assist me if I asked her to. And even if I just mentioned it in passing, she'd want to help…_ As the rest of the teachers stood or sat around and exchanged stories of their summer with each other, Severus wondered what Vesperra was doing at that very moment… They had decided it wouldn't be wise to talk through the journals while she was on the Hogwarts Express, since it was likely she'd be forced to share a compartment with other students, and Merlin knows the sort of ridicule she'd get if seen writing in what looked like a diary. So she must have been rather bored the past seven hours, unless she was perusing the textbooks, trying to learn a majority of the new spells before the term even started… He smirked to himself, knowing that that was the sort of thing she'd do. The smirk suddenly faltered, however, due to a sinking feeling in his chest… What would the other children be saying to her—or doing to her? Surely they'd take advantage of the lack of teachers and… _No, don't think about that. She can handle herself…_

Severus had come to Hogwarts by Floo powder as the teachers always did, though he had only arrived an hour ago. He didn't take his time settling in—everything could easily be unpacked and put in its proper place within ten minutes. But then, of course, Dumbledore needed everyone in the Staff Room for the usual pre-feast staff meeting. The moment Lockhart had entered the room, Severus had taken to sulking in the corner, wishing that he could be left out of these proceedings just this once.

Now, there was nothing to do except wait until the Hogwarts Express arrived and prepare for the arrival of the students. Sprout had already gone down to the kitchens to tell the House Elves to begin dinner, and Filch was attempting to stop Peeves from slathering the walls of the Great Hall with—well, no one was really sure what it was. There were still a couple hours left until the Hogwarts Express pulled in to Hogsmeade Station, and Severus craved something to do rather than making small talk with Dumbledore about sock preferences or being forced to listen to Lockhart go on to Professor Vector about defeating the Bandon Banshee. So he made for the door, and just as he reached for the knob—

"Always too eager to leave, aren't you Severus?" Dumbledore's voice rang cheerfully throughout the room. Though Severus didn't turn to glance at the room, he was sure that several pairs of eyes were boring into the back of his head, likely accompanied by perturbed frowns or knowing smirks. Keeping one hand on the doorknob, he jerked his head around to catch eyes with Dumbledore.

"I need to inventory my private stores," he snapped, hardly making an attempt to keep the curtness out of his voice. "before the start of term." Severus didn't wait for the approving twinkle of Dumbledore's eyes before he slid out of the room so swiftly you'd have thought he was a fox. His footsteps echoed through the comfortably empty corridors as he returned to the Entrance Hall. Passing through, he could hear Filch's frustrated cries mingled with Peeves singing some very rude words from beyond the threshold to the Great Hall, and the noise of metal clanging upon metal. Well, he _could_ have gone in there and helped the poor Squib… but he didn't feel like it at the moment.

Severus hastened to get away from the noise and disappeared down the stairs that led to the dungeons, then into a familiar corridor, where he found the door to his office. Once inside, he didn't hesitate to summon a long roll of parchment and a quill, then head straight into his ingredient storeroom. It made sort of a passageway from his office to his classroom, but with high walls of pull-out shelves that held countless ingredients, all too rare, expensive, or dangerous to keep in the student cupboard, and too extraneous to keep on the shelves in his office There was an entirely different storeroom for already-brewed potions, and that was only accessible through his classroom.

Taking his time, Severus pulled out each jar and recorded its contents and its presence on the parchment. He referenced the inventory list from the end of last year to make sure nothing had gone missing over the summer, and luckily, nothing had. Where any of the labels had faded, he rewrote it in ink, and after a couple hours, he had successfully inventoried everything. Smirking, he climbed down from the ladder he'd been using to get to the higher shelves and folded up the parchment, storing it in his cabinet. It seemed that he was right on time, because both the clock and the raucous noise above him told him that the students had arrived.

* * *

Everything went dark, and there was pressure on all sides of her body—forcing her eyeballs inward, pressing fiercely into her eardrums… And after several seconds of the awfully uncomfortable sensation, Vesperra opened her eyes again and saw the scarlet steam engine waiting by the platform. She let go of her mother's arm, and steadied herself for a moment to shake off the previous feeling.

Vesperra really hated Side-along Apparition. It wasn't necessarily painful, but the air pressing in and capturing her lungs was definitely not pleasant. And it couldn't have helped that she was thinner than she had been when she came home last time… She felt like she just might break under the weight of compressing air. Most children arrived at Platform 9 ¾ through the brick barrier in King's Cross with their parents, but Vesperra's mother felt that it was useless to do that when she could simply Apparate in, drop her off, then leave. Whether her mother didn't know or just didn't care Vesperra wasn't sure, but she _was_ sure that it couldn't be safe to undergo the sensation of Apparition at her age.

The platform wasn't as packed with people as they had expected it to be, but that was probably because they had arrived at least a half an hour before the train was scheduled to leave. Vesperra stuffed her wand, which had been out so she was able to Apparate along with her mother, back in her sleeve, and began dragging her school trunk towards the Hogwarts Express. Her mother said nothing, nor did she make any indication that she'd like to say a single word to Vesperra before she left for about nine months… Did she expect her to? Was she foolish enough to hope, for one tiny second, that her mother might want to pull her into a brief hug before sending her off, or even say 'Goodbye'? Dare she look back to catch one small glimpse of her before she Disapparated?

Without stopping in the middle of the busy platform, Vesperra quickly checked over her shoulder and, to her surprise, her mother was standing a ways away, slightly craning her neck as though to make sure she could see her daughter. Before Vesperra could do more than narrow her eyes at her mother, she relaxed her neck and twisted on the spot, disappearing with a faint pop.

She tried not to dwell on it as she stepped onto the nearest carriage, but… It seemed, for a moment, that her mother was waiting for her to either be out of sight or look back to leave herself. But what would compel her to do that, when she obviously preferred Vesperra best when she wasn't there…? That was it. There was no more to think about, and she'd be kidding herself if she believed anything like that about her mother. Instead, she focused on finding an empty compartment, which wasn't difficult at all.

It was, however, somewhat difficult to carry her trunk through the corridor on the train. While it didn't hold much, it was still quite heavy with all her books… and Vesperra wasn't physically very strong, especially with her lack of nutrition lately. But she refused to show any sign of exhaustion or strain in dragging it through the train. The first compartment she passed held a couple older Hufflepuffs, a boy she knew to be Cedric Diggory among them. She tried to hurry past them and wished for a sudden burst of strength, but wasn't fast enough.

Their compartment door slid open, and Diggory stood in the threshold. "Need some help?" he asked, smiling in a very Dumbledore-esque way. Scowling, Vesperra muttered "No," and continued to pull it forward, arm trembling in haste to move away from them. Luckily, the next compartment was empty, and once she was able to get her trunk inside, she opened it and decided what she would have out to keep her busy for the long train ride.

She already knew she couldn't have her journal out, so she pushed aside some robes to look through the books underneath. There were still three of Lockhart's books she hadn't bothered to read yet… _Ugh, fine._ Vesperra scooped those up along with her Charms book and set them on one of the compartment seats, then set her trunk in the corner.

Vesperra had read much of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ already, and even managed to learn a few spells at home in the weeks prior, but she put off reading Lockhart's. The ones that she _had_ read were hardly informative, but instead flowery stories of Lockhart's adventures. It was written in a sense that made Vesperra sure he was over-exaggerating, or else lying completely. There had rarely been a book that she would actually turn her nose up at, but these fit the criteria. In spite of herself, she opened _Year with the Yeti_ and forced herself to read, just so she wouldn't appear novice when DADA lessons started.

As easy as it was to focus on nearly everything else, she found it difficult to do so with Lockhart's books. At some point, she quit reading it word for word, and only skimmed it for the major parts of the stories. Her mind tossed aside all the stupid descriptions that were absolutely unnecessary, or extraneous information like small excerpts that did a very bad job at relating the events to previous ones in Gilderoy Lockhart's childhood. That being done, she had almost finished _Year with the Yeti_ by the time the noise in the corridors of the train was too loud to ignore.

This meant that the Hogwarts Express would be leaving in a few minutes, and students were boarding it, shuffling through the carriage and finding compartments, heaving their trunks up into the rack, and hanging out the windows to say goodbye to their parents. Out of curiosity, Vesperra glanced out the window and at the Platform, which was densely packed now. Just as she did, the compartment door slid open and a small girl with dirty blonde hair and unusually light gray eyes, evidently a soon-to-be first year, stood alone.

"Are these seats taken?" she asked dreamily, her eyes seemingly unfocused. Vesperra raised a subtle eyebrow at her, as she gave off a strong sense of dottiness from the way that she spoke to the radish earrings she was wearing. Before she could answer, however, a drawling voice from behind the girl answered for her.

"Of course they are, Grease-perra's in there." Malfoy appeared behind the first year, and unceremoniously pushed her aside so he could poke his head inside the compartment. "Anyone who stood in here for more than thirty seconds would have to wash their hair right after… although," He turned to the girl and surveyed her with a mocking smirk. "_Your_ hair could use the grease…"

"That's not very nice," said the girl in her dreamy voice, and it sounded more as a simple statement than an accusation. "You're a very unpleasant person, you know." Without so much as a frown, she skipped past Malfoy and into the compartment, taking her seat on the bench opposite Vesperra.

Malfoy seemed too lost for words. After a few seconds of silently staring at the strange girl with his mouth slightly open, he shook his head and rested his hand on one side of the doorway. "Don't be flattered, Grease-perra—she's only in here because no one else wanted her to sit with them. You know, you two'll make good friends, with neither of you having proper family, and both of you suffering from some degree of insanity… I don't think she'll share your fancy for Snape, though—_Aargh!_"

The compartment door suddenly slid shut on Malfoy's hand, as if slammed by an invisible person. Vesperra's anger had been building up since he entered the vicinity, and while she'd been trying to ignore it and focus on her book, the words on the page had become too hazy due to the furious pain clouding her eyes, and something had lashed out from inside her that was beyond her control. By the sound of the _crunch_ the impact had made, it was likely that she had just fractured, if not broken, several bones in Malfoy's hand. She could see him jerking his now red hand out of the crevice, and walking away while swearing loudly.

"Why does he dislike you?" the other girl asked, staring intently at Vesperra, who slowly lowered her book from her face. She noticed that this girl had rather protuberant eyes, and didn't blink that much. It was starting to creep her out, so she decided not to ignore her so she'd stop staring.

"Loads of reasons… everyone does." said Vesperra quietly, trying to hint with her tone that she would prefer the girl not talk to her while she was reading. "And they don't dislike me, they hate me."

"Hate is a strong word." she said, making Vesperra regret adding on to her answer. "Daddy says if you say you hate someone, you only misunderstand them. That's why he thinks everyone should wear dirigible plums…"

Not sure she heard her right, Vesperra lowered her book all the way to her lap and narrowed her eyes skeptically. "What?"

"Dirigible plums," the girl repeated, pointing to her earrings and smiling vaguely. "You know, so you can except the extraordinary." She didn't seem to think it necessary to explain any more than that, and proceeded to pull out a rolled-up magazine that was protruding from her front pocket.

_Of anyone that could have decided to sit in here, I had to get the crazy one…_ Vesperra thought, perusing _Year with the Yeti_ once more, this time with nothing but the noise of the train's engine in the background. But she felt bad the moment she thought it, because she remembered what Malfoy said—no one else wanted that girl to sit with them. _Well, it's not without good reason—she's absolutely crackers… It's not like me, they didn't hate her just because of her hair or her nose or her family or something else she couldn't control…_ But then again, it _was_ like Vesperra. That girl couldn't control her mental health… and she did say that her father had told her these things.

Vesperra wondered what Malfoy had meant by 'no proper family.' It was obvious for her, as she had a Muggle father, but what did he know about this first year, and how did he know it? Perhaps he had heard something from his father, being pureblood and all… Or maybe this was just one of those things that was well-known to everyone except her, having grown up in a Muggle house.

She felt a pang in her chest, and it took her a minute to realize that this feeling was sympathy. Then, she was suddenly angry at herself for getting too worried about other people's business, and resumed reading without allowing her mind to stray to the girl sitting across from her.

But it did stray to Severus, who Vesperra assumed would still be sitting in his house, just as anxious as she was to finally see the other after more than two months. She didn't ache with longing anymore, but instead with impatience. She was finally on her way to Hogwarts, finally on the train that would take her back to the only place she ever felt even somewhat at home. So what if the other students would torment her more than her parents did? Severus was there… and while it would be a nine-hour ride—nine entire hours without being able to talk to Severus through the journals and with that strange girl for company—it would indefinitely be worth it.

For hours, there were no disturbances as Vesperra read through each of Lockhart's books and the first year perused her magazine. Malfoy didn't return, which was smart of him, though uncharacteristic as he ought to have found Crabbe and Goyle by now, and he would have had them there to protect him should the need arise. Of course, sheer strength wouldn't protect him from doors sliding shut seemingly of their own accord. Vesperra wondered if he'd gotten his hand healed, and whether he would want revenge once they were inside Hogwarts, or before then…

About midday, when the sun shone so clearly through the compartment window that Vesperra wished there were curtains she could close over it, their door slid open again.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" asked the plump, smiling woman on the other side of the threshold. Realizing that she was absolutely starving, Vesperra gave a sharp nod and stood up, approaching the candy trolley. She decided upon some Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes, but not enough that her pocket was depleted of the Sickles that she had nicked from her mother before returning the money pouch. The other girl bought only a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, as it seemed she had very little money to spend.

Vesperra took a break from her reading to eat in silence, and tried not to make any eye contact with the other girl. Even if she did, though, it would be hard to tell if those eyes were focused on you or not. She soon ate through most of her Chocolate Frogs, which felt strangely satisfying to bite down on when they squirmed around in your mouth. She didn't care much for the cards, but glanced at each one before tossing them aside. Every now and then she recognized a name from _A History of Magic_, and was not surprised to come across Albus Dumbledore smiling serenely on one card, adjusting his glasses with one long, bony finger.

Daring to look up at the girl across from her, Vesperra saw her swallow a bean and smile, holding out the bag. "Would you like one?" she asked, sounding awfully sincere. In disbelief that she would offer her some of her limited candy while Vesperra literally had a pile of empty wrappers spilling onto the floor of compartment and hadn't offered her any, she froze in the middle of unwrapping another Chocolate Frog.

"No," said Vesperra, realizing yet not caring that she sounded rather rude. The other girl merely smiled again, and returned the small bag to her lap. She pulled out a murky brown and green bean and popped it in her mouth.

"I can see what you mean," said the girl cheerfully. "That tasted awful." Despite this, she continued eating them and, luckily, didn't speak to Vesperra again.

Vesperra began reading through her Charms book from the chapter she had left off at home when she was full, which was on jinxes. She couldn't practice any at the moment, but to be honest, she wasn't all that interested in them. Not that those jinxes seemed useless, but Vesperra preferred spells that could do more than just humiliate—ones that did real damage. Knowing the counterjinxes, though, was quite important, as humiliation was worse than physical pain when done to her.

It was much easier to memorize definitions and learn the theory of the spells she was to learn later that year than it was to read a passage of one of Lockhart's books without getting the urge to vomit. There were, however, a limited amount of spells she felt comfortable trying to learn with that other girl in there.

By the time the light outside grew dim and the wall lamps in the compartment lit themselves, Vesperra managed to learn a couple of the improved versions of some spells they learned last year. Some of the discarded Chocolate Frog cards were now suspended in midair, spinning like strange orbs. Looking out the window, she recognized the surrounding mountains at once.

"We're nearly there," she said with a manic look in her eye.

The other girl did not seem to hear her, since she was staring dreamily at the spinning Chocolate Frog cards. Vesperra grabbed all her books and put them back inside her trunk, then quickly changed into her school robes. Her heart was thumping as she willed time to hurry up, watching the trees outside the window disappear and fade into small buildings… At last, they were slowing down… Hogsmeade Station was within view… and the Hogwarts Express came to a halt.

Leaving her trunk behind, as it would be taken to the school for her, Vesperra automatically went for the door, but suddenly remembered the Chocolate Frog cards still hanging everywhere. With a flick of her wand and a muttered spell, they stopped spinning at once and fell to the floor with a clatter.

"You're very good at magic," said the first year girl as she followed her through the corridor and off the train carriage.

"Er—thanks." Vesperra wasn't quite sure what to make of this girl, but decided that she didn't hate her. Along with the rest of the mass of Hogwarts students, they made their way off the platform, but separated—_finally_—when they heard Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, calling "Firs' years over here!" The girl skipped away, and Vesperra went with the rest of the school to the muddy path where at least a hundred horseless stagecoaches were waiting for them.

Some of her fellow second years were nearby, and she could hear Malfoy saying something about Potter and Weasley not being on the train. Hoping that she heard correctly and that Malfoy wasn't lying, she walked along the path, trying to find a stagecoach that wasn't full. She found Theodore Nott standing directly in front of one and staring, apparently awestruck, at something. He looked around frantically, and noticed Vesperra climbing into the stagecoach.

"Do you know what those things are?" he asked in a high-pitched voice Vesperra had never heard him use. She craned her neck in the direction he was pointing, but saw nothing but trees on the other side of the path.

"What things?"

"Wha—_those_ things!" He gestured jerkily towards the same spot, eyes wide and confused. "They're _huge_—with wings and—and—Why can't you see them?"

Once again, she looked, and squinted at the space in case there was something further away that she had missed. Nott looked around again, and it was now apparent that he was trying to figure out why no one else seemed to notice whatever it was that he saw. Vesperra gave him a skeptical look and continued into the stagecoach. After a minute, he followed and sat down with a look of severe contemplation.

"I'm not crazy," he said in a tone that told her otherwise. When Vesperra didn't respond, he gave up and folded his arms, which she hardly noticed in her anxiety to arrive in the Great Hall. Several minutes of silence passed, in which the carriage brought them through the wrought iron gate and came to a halt at the foot of the stone steps of the castle. Nott looked to her and back to empty space between stagecoaches, but said nothing more as they shuffled into the Great Hall and found their seats at the Slytherin Table with the other second years.

Vesperra realized that she didn't necessarily have to sit with them, but it was a habit that she hadn't gotten over. Besides, some fourth years had already taken the end seats that she always preferred the year before. The moment she sat down, she looked over to the staff table and scanned it hungrily—and saw him, for the first time since June.

_Severus…_ She fought the urge to smile, but knew that he would be able to tell just how happy she was just by looking into her eyes. All summer, he had seemed so far away, so distant… and it had hurt so badly to only have his voice to keep her company, and to only talk to him, but never see him… And in his own scanning of the Great Hall, he saw her too, and they locked gazes.

Vesperra gripped the table, struggling against her desire to shout out, to run up to the staff table, to hug him and tell him how much he missed him… Severus looked back at her with a sort of controlled softness—she knew it would be softer if there were not people around. She could read on his face what was unreadable to anyone but her—he had missed her greatly, and wished they could leave the Great Hall and talk alone for a while… But judging by the slowly swelling feeling in her chest and throat, there was absolutely no way that he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

Severus had no idea of the pain she had felt—she was feeling, no idea that he'd been in her thoughts every waking moment… and if she could have helped it, every sleeping moment as well. He couldn't possibly know everything that was behind her gaze, or that she felt as though she were on fire with the intense heat that was engulfing her body, or that hot tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes—_No, dammit…_

She tore her gaze from him, which felt like stretching a strong rubber band until it finally snapped, recoiling when it did and stinging her face. Vesperra let her eyes wander around the Great Hall, across the other House tables… anything to keep herself in control of her emotions. The tables were almost completely full now, and the first years would still be on their journey across the lake… and she couldn't help herself—

Her eyes went to the staff table again, but Severus wasn't there. The door behind it that led to the Staff Room was swinging shut, indicating that he had just left through it. A couple of the other teachers glanced at it, probably somewhat confused, but soon returned to conversing with each other. Apparently, they didn't know where he had gone either. Her previous feeling of ache turned into dread, as she wondered what he had to do, and whether it would take long… _Relax. He might just need to use the bathroom… Or do some last-minute Potions Master duties, or—_

"Looks like Snape's gone, Grease-perra, so if you try to kill me again, he won't be here to save your pathetic arse," said Malfoy, interrupting her self-reassurance. Vesperra didn't acknowledge that she had heard him, but looked down at her golden plate, which didn't serve as much as a distraction without food on it. She focused her thoughts on Severus and away from the anger that was bound to build up from what her fellow Slytherins would dare say to her now that Severus wasn't watching. She didn't want a repeat of last year…

"Draco, why have you got that?" said Pansy in a worried tone, and Vesperra rose her head just enough that she could see what she meant.

"Oh, this?" Malfoy said dramatically, caressing his left hand with his right, which was now bandaged. "_She _can tell you all about that—can't you, Grease-perra?"

Still, she scowled and didn't respond or even look at any of them, but knew that they were all staring at her, and with deep dislike, too.

"I was completely defenseless… I didn't even have my wand out. That really shows what kind of—"

"_I_ didn't have my wand out, either!" Vesperra spat, disgusted at his lie to make himself look better.

"You_ really_ need to learn to control yourself then, don't you?" Malfoy said slowly, deliberately letting each word sink into her like acid. "Wouldn't want something like that to happen every time I mention your filthy Muggle father, or your blood traitor mother…" He paused, presumably to get a good look at Vesperra's face, and smirked as Pansy giggled fiercely and Crabbe and Goyle chuckled sycophantically. "Speaking of which… How is it that you have any money? I can't see how the people that _you_ came from are intelligent enough to work…"

"So if she lives in a box, it makes sense why she doesn't wash her hair!" Daphne said as if it were a realization that just hit her.

"Doesn't give her an excuse not to, though, does it?" laughed Tracey, leaning forward and showing off her perfect blonde hair in contrast to Vesperra's.

"So if you don't have any money," said Malfoy, now serious. "what were you doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"_What?_" Pansy gasped.

"_She_ was in Knockturn Alley?" said Theodore, who hadn't spoken to anyone since they left the horseless carriages.

Vesperra knew this was coming, she had dreaded Malfoy confronting her about it ever since she had the unfortunate timing of meeting him and his father there. Rather than anger and annoyance now, she felt fear, wondering what lengths they would go to in order to get her to talk.

"You bought something, didn't you?" said Malfoy, scowling.

"You just said I didn't have any money, so I couldn't have, could I?" Vesperra replied slowly, trying to keep her voice steady and her temper in check.

"Knowing her, it's probably a book," said Millicent in her thick voice, ignoring Vesperra's comment. "All she ever does is read, because she hasn't got any friends to talk to…"

"Or something for Snape," Pansy suggested, grinning wickedly. "We all know how interested he is in the Dark Arts… and how interested _you_ are in him." She had turned to Vesperra, who was practically shaking.

"No, even Grease-perra's not thick enough to think Snape could like her _that_ way… No one could. She's just unlovable… _'Likable traits,' my arse…_" said Malfoy. There was more laughter amongst the second years, and Vesperra felt that this was close to becoming even worse than her first day… especially since Severus wasn't there. "But I want to know how you got the money to buy whatever it is, Grease-perra, because your mother couldn't have inherited anything—"

"I _didn't_ buy anything there, I was just having a look around…" Vesperra said through gritted teeth, wishing Malfoy would just drop it and that Pansy would wipe that bloody smirk off her pug-like face. He had both hands on the table, and was obviously attempting to look more intimidating by putting himself above her.

Malfoy expressed his disbelief clearly through his glare, as well as most of the others, but they didn't have time to voice it. The doors to the Entrance Hall were pushed open loudly, and Professor McGonagall entered, leading a group of nervous-looking first years into the Great Hall. She set down a wooden stool and a patched, frayed hat on top of it. Finally, the Sorting… But Severus was still not back…

Every head in the Great Hall turned towards the hat as a rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing. Most were listening with rapt and eager attention, but Vesperra was hardly listening… her head was pounding too hard for her to hear it clearly, anyway. She was dreading Malfoy discovering what she had bought in Knockturn Alley, because not only would the Cards be useless with him knowing about them, but they'd likely be confiscated, along with her book of poisons, since she wouldn't put it past him to run and tell Dumbledore… or Severus. But _would_ he tell Severus? Malfoy knew, even though Vesperra had done her best to conceal it, that she and Severus _must_ have been closer than student and teacher… And he was a lot smarter than he looked, so he'd realize that Severus wouldn't tell the other teachers or punish her. What none of them expected, though, was that he'd be very disappointed in her, and was likely to become angry that she ever set foot in Knockturn Alley. If by 'interested' in the Dark Arts, they meant that he liked and used them, they were wrong—Vesperra, and possibly she and Dumbledore alone, knew that Severus was only interested in the Dark Arts so he could defend against them… Why else would he disapprove of her learning curses? He had never directly told her that, but she had seen his face when she first asked for permission to use the Restricted Section.

And she couldn't help but wonder… Did Malfoy know anything about her mum's family? He knew about that girl on the train, even though she doubted they had ever met beforehand. For some reason, though, Vesperra didn't think that her ring would command the same respect in Hogwarts that it did in Knockturn Alley. It wasn't likely that many other students would know what it meant, anyway, and like Malfoy said, she had no likable traits. She was rude to everyone that crossed her path, even if they were trying to be kind to her, and overall, she just had a very unpleasant demeanor. Those in Hogwarts who knew who the Lestranges were would either come from old Wizarding families or be older, but that didn't matter, anyway. They already knew her… so why would they change their mind just because of a stupid ring? Wouldn't it be even _worse_, then, considering how her mother had been disowned? The shop owners in Knockturn Alley hadn't known that, but if they had… Vesperra shuddered to think of how she'd have been treated.

Part of her was sure that Malfoy would know, that Malfoy would have the answers that she wanted about the Lestranges… but she didn't dare ask him. The chances of her initiating a conversation with _him_ were as existent as her tendency for kindness. If it came down to it, she might ask him as a last resort, but there had to be _something_ in the library…

Before she knew it, everyone in the Great Hall was clapping, which meant that the Sorting Hat had finished its song and the Sorting was about to begin. There was an anxious silence among the House tables as McGonagall unsheathed a long roll of parchment and said, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted… Creevey, Colin!"

A mousy-haired boy stepped forward from the line of first years to sit on the stool, and put on the hat. It fell almost completely over his eyes and nose, then, considering for a moment, yelled "GRYFFINDOR!" Colin grinned nervously and took his seat at the Gryffindor table to many cheers and applause.

Student after student came forward, most of them looking quite nervous, and were sorted into one of the four houses. Each House table cheered raucously at every new addition, though the Slytherins weren't as welcoming as the others. About halfway through, McGonagall called, "Lovegood, Luna!" and the girl that had sat with Vesperra on the train skipped forward happily, triggering giggles throughout the Great Hall. "RAVENCLAW!" bellowed the Sorting Hat after a few seconds, and Luna skipped again to the cheering Ravenclaw table.

It ended with "Weasley, Ginevra!", a girl with dark red hair that was sorted into Gryffindor—_Just what we need,_ thought Vesperra, _another Weasley…_—and Dumbledore stood up at his seat.

"Do forgive me, but I'd like to take a moment before we eat to welcome you all! …Now that I've welcomed you, let the banquet begin!" He sat back down, and while everyone clapped and cheered, the golden dishes on the House tables were suddenly full of all sorts of food, and Vesperra wasn't picky. Piling as much roast chicken, lamb chops, and mashed potatoes as she could on her plate, she allowed herself to become immersed in how delicious it was… _Finally, real food…_ The entire summer, she had hardly eaten a week's worth of Hogwarts food. If Malfoy or anyone else were insulting her at that moment, she wouldn't have noticed…

But movement in the corner of her eye diverted her attention to the Staff Table, where Severus had just arrived from the door behind it. Her heart leapt again, and she waited for him to take his seat… but he didn't. He seemed to be telling McGonagall and Dumbledore something, and the two immediately stood up and exited the Great Hall. Severus took a quick glance at the Slytherin table, and followed them.

* * *

Waiting at the Staff Table with the other teachers, Severus realized that it was a mere few minutes before he'd see Vesperra again. The thought cheered him up greatly, despite the annoying ramblings of Lockhart beside him, who had changed into turquoise robes for the banquet. Most of the students above first year were already seated at their House tables, and there was little space left somewhere near the middle of the Slytherin table. He was disappointed that the end seats had already been taken, as that was where he'd have been able to see Vesperra easily.

It was the beginning of the school year at last, and this was the first that had ever brought him any sort of anxiety—not the anxiety that he had felt the year before, when he knew that Potter would be starting, but almost excitement. But as he remembered Potter, he wasn't feeling so eager anymore, because he knew it would be another year of dealing with that ungrateful little brat, who hadn't even thanked him for saving his life last year…

But wait—_where is Potter?_ Severus narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor table, and saw Hermione Granger sitting alone, looking somewhat worried. Neither Potter nor his ginger friend were anywhere to be seen, but he noticed that the Weasley twins were approaching Granger. Thinking quickly, he surreptitiously pointed his wand at them, and thought, _Sonorego!_

"—you seen Ron?" one of the twins was saying.

"No," said Granger, shaking her head. "I haven't seen him or Harry all day! I couldn't find either of them on the train—they _did_ get on the train, didn't they?"

"Well, they definitely arrived at King's Cross station with us—"

"But we were running late—"

"Since dad had to drive back home twice—"

"So we just hurried onto the Platform, didn't look back—"

"And figured they must have already been on the train." the twin on the right finished impressively, looking quite cheerful despite the circumstances.

"Oh no, I bet they were left behind!" Granger said, clutching at the roots of her frizzy hair. "And, wait—you _drove_ to King's Cross?"

"Oh—yeah, our dad's got a car, didn't we tell you that?"

"No, you didn't…" she said vaguely, now focusing on the floor as if thinking hard. Severus lifted the spell, and did not hear the next few words exchanged between the kids. He felt like he should be glad that Potter wouldn't be coming—because that would mean his responsibilities would be lifted, he would be generally much happier during the year, and he could devote more of his time to Vesperra—but something wasn't right. They were meant to take the Hogwarts Express, but they hadn't gotten on it. Then why hadn't Dumbledore received an owl from Mr. or Mrs. Weasley explaining that Potter and their son missed the train, and that they required alternative transportation? That gave him the impression that somehow, the two boys had avoided getting on the train without the knowledge of Weasley's parents.

_But this—doesn't—make—sense…_ seethed Severus, who was acquiring a headache. _Why would they not want to come back?_ According to Dumbledore, Potter's life outside of Hogwarts was awful, and that he preferred it here. With nothing to help him understand the situation or figure out what to do about it, he grew angry, and his headache increased. If there was one thing he hated—well, there were a lot of things he hated, but just for the sake of the argument—it was not understanding things. Severus Snape needed to be on top of everything and to know exactly what was going on, and that's why he hated it when Dumbledore kept information from him.

Scanning the Great Hall out of habit, he let his eyes stop on another pair that were already staring straight back at him. Looking into Vesperra's eyes after over two months of being bereft of that simple ability drove all thoughts of Potter from his mind, and he could only think of how much he had missed her, and how impatient he was for the Sorting and banquet to come and go so he could talk to her… but through the journals? No, he wanted to take her back to his office so they could talk in person all night to make up for the weeks of not being able to do so… but that would be irresponsible… Lessons started the next day, and she needed sleep… But _surely_ she wouldn't care…

Severus noticed the look in her eyes, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. It was an extra glint that he had hardly ever seen in her before—maybe once or twice, though, but never for longer than a moment… And he was sure he saw the corner of her mouth twitching, as if a smile was attempting to force its way through. But then, her eyes slowly moved away from his face…it seemed difficult for her to do so, and when she was finally able to, she jerked her head away from further temptation.

He was not confused, as he was thinking the same thing that she must have been—if they didn't break the gaze then, would they ever be able to? And within the next minute, he was glad she had looked away, because an owl had swooped in through the window and landed in front of him, dropping the _Evening Prophet _and holding out one of its legs. Shortly after paying it five Knuts he fished out of his robe pocket, Severus sharply raised his eyebrows to the title on the front page—_FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTEFIES MUGGLES_.

His eyes darted across the page as he read the story entirely, knowing all the while that this had something to do with—_Potter. That's exactly what his filthy father would do, and it's exactly what he'll do just for a bit of more fame… He just can't get enough, can he?_ Starting in London, all the locations of the sightings were gradually closer and closer to Hogwarts… And he remembered what one of the Weasley twins said—_"Oh—yeah, our dad's got a car, didn't we tell you that?" _It all made sense to him now, but he didn't know whether he should feel furious that those brats would do such a thing, or wickedly happy that he would finally have a chance to give them the punishment they deserved. So he felt both.

Without telling Dumbledore or anyone else where he was going, he stood up from his seat and exited the Great Hall through the door behind the Staff Table. As he did, he could hear Lockhart saying something like, "Going to change into something more fanciful, Professor? Excellent idea!"

Severus knew that if Potter had taken the car, which he was one-hundred percent sure of, it should be arriving soon, if it hadn't already… The first thing that came to his mind was to head straight up to the Astronomy Tower, where he would be able to see nearly all of Hogwarts, but he changed direction in mid-step, realizing that he would waste time getting up there, and that he would do better to just do a full search of the grounds.

From the great oak doors, he prowled every inch possible, using his acute senses to detect movement or whispers… but there was nothing. The sky was empty but for stars… there were no Ford Anglias flying towards the castle. Severus found nothing near the lake, Quidditch field, or greenhouses, but as he neared the shallow valley in which he knew the Whomping Willow to be planted, he heard rustling and scraping noises gradually becoming louder…

He didn't have to guess what it meant when he found the Willow thrashing about violently, looking eerie at dusk… Something had recently disrupted it, and he knew what that something was. Severus flicked his wand, causing a stick to fly and hit a certain knot on the trunk, and the thrashing ceased immediately. Before he could continue on to find the boys he'd been searching for, however, he noticed that several branches on the Whomping Willow were broken… And there were deep gouges in the trunk where it looked like something sharp had dug into the wood…

It wasn't necessarily the tree he cared about, especially since it had played its part in one of his worst memories… But this _was_ a very rare and valuable tree, and it was Hogwarts property. As it must have been Potter and Weasley that had damaged it while flying in, that was another offense right there… Oh, it was bliss to think of what would happen to them. But—where were they, and where was the car?

That was easily answered as Severus completed his circle around the castle to see two figures silhouetted against the brightly lit windows of the Great Hall. Once within hearing distance, he could hear Weasley saying in a hopeful voice, "Maybe he's ill!"

"Maybe he's _left_, because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job _again_!" said Potter, and now Severus knew who they were talking about.

"Or he might have been _sacked_! I mean, everyone hates him—"

"Or maybe," Severus said coldly, now directly behind them. "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train." He smiled evilly at the pure fear and dread they were sure to be feeling at the unexpected sound of his voice, and was not proven wrong when Potter spun around to see him. The boys' eyes held a look of absolute horror.

"Follow me," said Severus, immediately spinning around to make his way up the stone steps, his robes rippling behind him in the September breeze. He led them across the Entrance Hall and down the dungeon staircase, finally ending up at his office door. Opening it, he pointed inside and said sharply, "In!" They obeyed, and Severus noticed with satisfaction that they were shivering. He _could_ have lit the fire and made it warmer, but he wanted to let them freeze.

"So, the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley," Severus said, using his softly dangerous voice. "Wanted to arrive with a _bang_, did we, boys?"

Despite the look he was giving them and the fear it usually induced in students, Potter stared back with defiance rather than dread, and went straight to making excuses. "No, sir, it was the barrier at King's Cross, it—"

"Silence!" he demanded, his dark eyes harboring nothing but coldness. "What have you done with the car?" Without waiting for either of them to answer, as he knew they wouldn't, he pulled from his robes the _Evening Prophet_ he had received earlier, shoved it in their face so they could see the title, and hissed, "You were seen." When he saw their renewed expressions of dread, he pulled it back to himself and began to read aloud the parts he deemed important.

"Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car over the Post Office tower… at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing… Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police… Six or seven Muggles in all," he finished, then turned to Weasley, smiling nastily. "I believe _your_ father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office? Dear, dear… his own son… I noticed," he went on, "in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow."

The ginger looked indignant. "That tree did more damage to _us_ than we—"

"_Silence!_ Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who _do_ have that happy power. You will wait here." Severus opened his office door once more and, as he returned to the Great Hall, felt the undeniable urge to throw back his head and laugh. _Finally… I can finally get rid of them! Even if Voldemort does return, Potter will be far away from here, where he does not, by any means, deserve to be… And he'll be with his aunt and uncle, and he'll be completely safe there, and I won't have to do a damn thing…_

At the moment, this seemed completely logical to Severus. That kid was a danger to himself and everyone around him… just look at the bloody stunt he just pulled! He and his friend could have died, but did Potter care? Obviously not… and the year before, he broke _at least_ fifty school rules, so he'd definitely be inclined to break more. The fact that he had escape Lord Voldemort once again was pure luck and help from _him_, no talent or skill on the boy's part at all… How could he possibly be destined to destroy him? Even if he was, wouldn't he be much safer away from Hogwarts? Wasn't he doing that ungrateful brat a _favor_?

And even aside from this, Severus knew that he just plain hated Potter. He hated to see the man that tortured him for so many years in boy form, walking into his class, glaring at him with hatred just as his father did… And he hated that he had Lily's eyes. Oh, he loved Lily's eyes, but he couldn't bear to look into them when they were in James Potter's body. Seeing him every day was nothing more or less than a stab, a reminder of why his life took this turn. But now, he would never have to see him again, he was sure of it…

He knew Dumbledore never wanted to do it this way, but did the Headmaster even have a choice anymore? Severus had a valid reason for expelling him, and even that crazy old man wouldn't be able to deny it.

In about five minutes, he had made it back through the staffroom and entered the Great Hall behind the staff table. The banquet had clearly already started.

"Headmaster, Minerva, I've found Potter and Weasley," he told them, eliciting raised eyebrows as they turned to face him. "I daresay you noticed neither of them are _here_?" By their expressions, it seemed that they actually hadn't.

"Where are they, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.

"In my office, awaiting _our_ return…" McGonagall and Dumbledore stood at once, though somewhat confused, and Severus gestured for them to leave through the door behind them first. Realizing that Vesperra must be wondering where he had left to, he sought to quickly find her face in the sea of Slytherins, but half a second proved not long enough and he had to leave.

Not that he was at all reluctant to return to his office. On the way back, he told the two of them his version of events—how he realized that Potter and his friend hadn't arrived on the train, his search of the castle, and the damage done to the Whomping Willow. Rather than accompanying them down to the dungeons, Dumbledore said that he must go see the Willow for himself, but that he'd return shortly, and headed for the front doors.

As they proceeded to enter Severus's office, Minerva's lips were thinner than ever. Severus stood by the closed door and folded his arms while she pointed her wand at the grate, and flames erupted inside it.

"Sit." said McGonagall. The boys backed into two chairs by the fire, which only made Severus angrier. They didn't deserve the luxury of sitting down in his comfortable chairs. Those were _his_ chairs, and he didn't want the boys to get their filth all over them. But he couldn't complain—this would likely be the last time he ever saw them.

"Explain." she said.

"We were _really_ late to King's Cross station," said Weasley imploringly. "And me and Harry had to wait to cross the barrier last, but when we did, we couldn't get through! We crashed into it like it was solid wall—it worked for the rest of my family, but it just sealed itself against us! It was already eleven then, so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get on the train.

Before he could continue with their explanation, McGonagall turned to Potter and said, "Why didn't you send us a letter by owl? I believe _you_ have an owl?"

Potter's expression at the moment proved just how clueless he was, as well as Severus's belief that he didn't deserve to attend Hogwarts. "I—I didn't think—"

"That," said McGonagall, "is obvious."

There was a knock on the door, which Severus was ready for, and he opened it, unable to suppress the happiness on his face. It was Dumbledore, as expected, and he was looking grave from what he had observed of the Whomping Willow as he stepped in. In the silence that followed, Severus was growing impatient. _This is it… he's going to expel them, and I'll never have to see them again…_

"Please explain why you did this," said Dumbledore at last.

This time, Potter did the explaining. He told the Headmaster everything his friend had already said, and then continued with the story—"So we didn't have any other way to get to Hogwarts, and we took the flying car… And we _tried_ to make sure no Muggles would see us, with the Invisibility Booster, but it stopped working, so we stayed in the clouds… And then the engine stopped working properly once we got near Hogwarts, so we couldn't control it—sir—and we crashed right into the Whomping Willow… It wrecked the car, and when we finally got away, the car threw our trunks out and drove itself into the Forbidden Forest." When he finished, there was another short silence where Dumbledore merely peered at them, and Severus felt so happy he could have done a victory dance.

"We'll go and get our stuff," Weasley said, starting to stand up from the chair.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked McGonagall, and Severus's triumphant smirk faltered, the glint in his eye disappearing somewhat.

"Well, you're expelling us, aren't you?"

Both Potter and Severus looked quickly to Dumbledore, the latter thinking and expressing with the mad look in his eyes, _Aren't you?_

"Not today, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, and Severus's smirk vanished altogether, now replaced with a look of utter disbelief and horror. "But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."

_'Again'? Why not now? Haven't they had enough bloody chances?_ Closing his mouth, which he realized was hanging open, Severus cleared his throat and tried to speak without losing his temper. "Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree—surely acts of this nature—"

"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "They are in her House and therefore her responsibility." He turned to McGonagall. "I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample—"

Before following him, Severus shot Potter and Weasley a look more venomous than even he thought possible. As they walked back to the Great Hall, Dumbledore was smiling, despite the fact that the man next to him was fuming.

"You're the _Headmaster_…" Severus was saying, struggling against his urge to yell. "_You_ can expel them if it's something like _this_… He's his father all over again—"

"We have discussed this, Severus," said Dumbledore. "And do you really think he deserves to leave Hogwarts for being like James?"

"_You know what I mean!_" It infuriated him that the Headmaster would mention that man by his first name. "How many times did Potter and Black deserve to be expelled for something they did, but weren't? How many times did _you_ give them another chance—even after they tried to _kill_ me?"

"You know I believe in second chances, Severus… otherwise, you wouldn't be here." Dumbledore said, one hand on the doorknob that would lead them to the Staff Table in the Great Hall, at which Severus stopped retorting. "It is essential that Harry Potter continue his education at Hogwarts, you know this. You won't be able to shirk your duties this easily… Nice try, though." With a reassuring smile that didn't work whatsoever, he opened the door and the two took their seats once more.

Severus was hardly in any mood to eat, but did so absentmindedly while he made no effort to curb his anger. _If it were any other student, they'd have been expelled. People think _I_ show favoritism? Even if Potter ever does something as stupid as this again, Dumbledore's not going to expel him—no, not the perfect Harry Potter, he gets to do whatever he wants, because rules and laws are beneath him…_

In his inner rant, he almost completely forgot about Vesperra—the one person who'd understand what he was feeling and agree with him, the one person that could calm him down, and the one person he could talk to. And he had forgotten that she must have been waiting the past hour, confused and wondering where he had gone…

His eyes found her neglecting her pudding and boring intensely into him, as though she were trying to ask all the questions he knew she wanted to. He wished he could answer those at the moment, but he knew he'd have to wait until later.

After Dumbledore gave his usual start-of-term notices and bade everyone goodnight, Severus and the Slytherins made their way down to the dungeons. At the time, he wanted to stray off the route to the dungeon corridor leading to his office and get to Vesperra before she reached the Common Room… It seemed so easy; he could just stop her and say, "Miss D'Monicas, I need a word with you in my office," and then he could take her into his office and tell her everything…

But he could see it clearly in his mind, what would happen when she'd inevitably have to go to her dorm… _"So what did Snape want, Grease-perra? You didn't fall asleep in his room, did you?" _No, he couldn't let that happen to her. He would just have to wait until the next day to see her… Still, he managed to give her a meaningful look before she disappeared into the Common Room, and swept himself back to his chambers.

By the time he made it to his room and found a quill, there was already a _thump _against his ribs—Vesperra had beaten him to it.

* * *

It wasn't until after the dinner disappeared to be replaced by puddings that she saw Severus return. He was radiating fury, and Vesperra suspected by the knowing look the Headmaster was giving him that it was because of Dumbledore. Severus didn't look back at her for a while, either, but when he did, some of the anger left him.

Trying to be discreet, she strained her eyes rather than her neck to see him, and kept her head turned at only a very small angle. She had been enduring her usual taunts about him for the past twenty minutes, especially after he left the second time, and she didn't want them to start up again.

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Vesperra couldn't help but notice that a certain boy with a lightning scar was missing—especially since everyone else was pointing it out as well. And at the abnormally fast rate at which gossip travels in Hogwarts, rumors had gotten around to even the Slytherin table that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had been expelled for crashing a flying car into the school. She knew at once that it couldn't have been true, because Severus wouldn't be looking so angry if it was.

Soon all the food on the House tables vanished, and the Great Hall fell silent as Dumbledore got to his feet.

"Before you all scurry off to your dormitories, I'd like to make some announcements, and hope you won't nod off during them," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, Gilderoy Lockhart will be taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—" Lockhart stood up, smiling widely at everyone. "—and you be pleased to note that he is _not_ wearing a turban." Some students laughed, and Vesperra managed a grim smirk.

The applause that ensued was much more enthusiastic among the girls, a few of whom stood up to see Lockhart better and giggled to each other. Vesperra, however, glared at him disgustedly and wondered what the hell everyone's problem was.

Dumbledore then gave the usual warning that the Forbidden Forest was forbidden, and passed on the message from Filch that no magic was to be used between classes in the corridors. That was, Vesperra thought, a pointless rule, as no one followed it—not even her. Finally, he informed everyone of when Quidditch trials would be held, and they were free to go to bed.

She didn't hesitate to cross the tightly packed Entrance Hall and get down to the dungeons, but she had no intention of sleeping when she got to her dorm. A prefect told them all that the password was "Antirrhinum Majus," and she was one of the first past the brick wall that disappeared and led to the Common Room. Vesperra hurried down the passageway that led to the Slytherin girl's dorms.

Unlike the other House dormitories, Vesperra knew, there were only two or three students to a room. As everything was under the lake, space wasn't an issue, and the founders knew that Slytherins had a larger tendency for conflict, and that conflict was usually more serious. So it wasn't a good idea to have five Slytherins sleeping in the same room together.

The moment she reached her room, Vesperra threw open her trunk and withdrew her journal, then found a quill and shut the curtains of her four-poster before Millicent could come in.

* * *

_**Where did you go tonight? What happened?**_

_I know I owe you an explanation, so hold on a moment. It's a long story._

Even in Severus's small, spidery handwriting, the entire explanation took up nearly two full pages. And even then, it was missing a lot of things that he couldn't tell her—anything about protecting Potter or why Dumbledore thought he needed to stay… Or his anger at the boy being exactly like his father. James Potter wasn't a topic that he never wanted to tell her, like Lily, but he avoided mentioning him… He didn't feel like explaining his entire childhood that night.

_**What punishment are they getting, then?**__  
McGonagall decides that, but I'm sure she'll only give them detention. If I had my way, Potter would at least lose all Quidditch privileges for the rest of his life, and Weasley would be forced to take up the position of assistant caretaker with Filch._

_**Really? I'd have figured worse. And Severus, is that spell you used on the Weasley twins and Granger the same thing you did to hear Malfoy and the others tormenting me on my first day?**_

Damn. Severus smacked himself in the face. He deserved to be smacked in the face if he hadn't realized that he should not have told her that detail. She was smart, so how did he not think she'd put two and two together? But her voice sounded merely curious rather than accusatory… so did it really matter anymore?

_Yes, it is. I'm sorry I never told you before, but it never seemed relevant._

_**Could you teach it to me?**_

_If you want me to, I will. It's fairly advanced, though._

_**Since when has that been a problem?**_

_Never, actually. I don't doubt for a second that you'll master it within a week. What are you planning on using it for, though?_

_**It is really necessary to ask me that? There are so many things I could use it for. I can't believe you know a spell like that and don't use it all the time.**_

_I don't often feel the need to use it. I generally let people have their privacy unless I truly need information. And I'm not interested in the personal lives of my students._

_**You were interested in mine.**_

_You're far more interesting than my other students. Now, Madam Pomfrey has asked me to brew some new antidotes for the Hospital Wing, and I want to know if you would like to assist me._

_**Assist you in what way? And what sort of antidotes?**_

_You would help me prepare ingredients, and if I were called away for some reason, you'd do the things that needed to be done in a certain amount of time. It'll be much more efficient, and we'd have more time to spend together. They'll be common antidotes and medicinal potions, for simple illnesses and poisons. _

_**Of course I'll help, Severus. When will we start?**_

_Tomorrow at eight, in my office. Altogether, it should take about three weeks to finish everything, but as simmering time will indefinitely overlap, the days that we work on it will be irregular. If your homework gets in the way, you won't have to assist me every day._

_**Even if it does, I'll make time. Is there anything you want me to bring except protective gloves?**_

_No. But now that I think about it, you and I should both get some sleep._

_**Yeah, we probably should. Goodnight, Severus.**_

_Goodnight, Vesperra._

* * *

Vesperra wondered if he had heard the eagerness in her voice. But she couldn't help it… This was just too convenient. She'd actually have a use for the book on poisons and antidotes she bought in Knockturn Alley, now… Obviously she still wasn't going to tell him about it, but she had a real excuse to become knowledgeable on poisons…

She was too glad that she'd be able to spend time with him right away, too—so glad, she only just remembered every single other thing she had meant to do once she returned to Hogwarts. Discover whether or not there were potions that could induce dreams, learn more about the Lestranges, find a use for those Cards… But now, the importance of those had faded in comparison to helping Severus.

At least she had a good idea of what she'd be doing for the next several weeks.

* * *

**Severus's reason for wanting Harry expelled so badly is pretty justified now, isn't it? And you probably weren't expecting Vesperra to meet Luna Lovegood, were you? Oh, and if you're wondering if the Common Room password "Antirrhinum Majus" is significant, it is. It's a type of Snapdragon, and its nickname is "Black Prince." So, Severus is the Half-Blood _Prince_, and... yeah. It's a really pretty flower btw, so you should look it up. **

**Please review and tell me what you think! (Because I _really_ need more reviews)**

**In the next chapter: First week of classes, Helping Severus**


	18. Book 2: Chapter 4

**I got this done faster than I thought I would! Well, it would have taken longer, but I decided to cut a part I was originally going to put in this chapter and put it in the next one. Also, thanks for all the reviews, guys! That was the most amount of reviews that I got at one time... What confuses me, though, is that it says I have 32 reviews, but when I click on it, it says I only have 31. Weird. **

* * *

There were thick fingers gripping her arm, shaking it back and forth none too lightly. Drifting further and further back into consciousness, her eyelids opened slowly and the gears in her brain began working towards rational thought. When she realized what exactly was going on, she sat up with a jolt and yanked her arm away.

"What do you want, Bullstrode?" said Vesperra angrily, massaging her forearm, which Millicent had nearly crushed in her grip. But her anger was quickly driven out by confusion—her roommate never acknowledged her existence when not in the company of other Slytherins, let alone talked to her, or woke her up…

In the next second, there was a narrow strip of wood pointing directly at Vesperra's face. It startled her, but she didn't show it on her face, or even lean back to distance herself from Millicent's wand. Instead, she glared into her unsmiling face, and raised one eyebrow.

"I want to know what you bought in Knockturn Alley, Grease-perra," said Millicent, jabbing her wand a bit closer to Vesperra.

"And what makes you think I'd tell you?"

"So you _did_ buy something!" she said, smirking slightly. Vesperra said nothing. "Well _I've_ got a wand, and_ you_ haven't. I've got you cornered! What else can you do but tell me?"

"Malfoy put you up to this, didn't he?" Vesperra asked with an edge in her voice.

"No, he didn't! I'm doing this for myself—I want to know what you bought there!"

"Whatever you found out, you'd tell him anyway, though—wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Millicent shrugged. "But you better tell me—now—or I'll hex you!"

Well, this was not turning out to be a good morning. Vesperra stared at the wand pointing to her face, weighing her options. She would not—could not—tell anyone about the things she had bought in Knockturn Alley… But what would Bullstrode do to her? She had never known her to possess much magical talent, but considering her experiences… she had learned not to underestimate anyone. That left her only one thing to do.

It happened so quickly that the thick-set girl in front of her didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late. Vesperra had fallen asleep in her school robes, so she still had her wand in her sleeve, ready to be pulled out and cast a curse in hardly a second. Her eyes focused maliciously on Vesperra's face, Millicent didn't notice her right hand dart to her left sleeve, or a wand being aimed at her stomach.

She flew back as if thrown by an invisible force, her smirk fading and her eyes widening in mid-flight. Her head hit the wooden post of her four-poster bed with a loud _thump_, and she fell to the floor, unconscious.

_Dammit._ Vesperra hadn't meant to put that much force into the spell… It should have only pushed Millicent a couple feet, which would have been enough for Vesperra to gain the upper hand and use a Memory Charm to make her forget that she cared about what Vesperra had bought in Knockturn Alley… But now she was out cold, and she would have had to have been conscious for Vesperra to use a Memory Charm on her.

Making a mental note to learn a reviving spell in th future, she decided that since it was still early in the morning, she could just get Millicent back in her bed and hope that when she woke, she'd think it was a dream. Or better yet, the collision with her bed would have made her forget already. Either way, since a Memory Charm was now impossible, it was the best Vesperra could do. The only problem now was getting the girl back into her bed—and she was no pixie. _Ugh, why not just leave her on the floor? She definitely deserves it… _But then if she did forget everything, she'd still wonder how she ended up like that, and the whole thing would be much easier without any questions.

She grabbed Millicent's limp arm and dragged her into more of a sleeping position parallel to her bed, then used a Levitation Charm to get her floating at the height of her bed. Pushing her so she now floated above the mattress, Vesperra let her fall onto it. Then, she retrieved Millicent's wand from the floor and placed it on her nightstand.

_Good, now that's done…_ Even at Hogwarts, that was an odd (and rather unpleasant) way to start the year. Not that she was used to proper treatment in any sense, but after what just happened, things could only get worse. None of them were going to forget what Malfoy had said about her in Knockturn Alley, and she wouldn't put it past them to make attempts similar to Bullstrode's. Now, they'd have even more of an incentive to antagonize her… _Just add it to the list_, she figured…

All that had happened left her fully awake, so Vesperra dug inside her school trunk for some clean clothes and headed to the shower. The warm water would be a soothing release from the early-morning stress… And she could forget about what would surely happen later, and the revenge Bullstrode would want, no doubt…

Besides all that, it had been a pleasant morning—at least, in waking up. Much different than waking up in her house… The beds were comfortable and not springy, so her back didn't ache… and there was a distinct smell to the Slytherin dungeons… a welcoming one.

When she was all cleaned and dressed, Vesperra went on a hunt for her journal, which had to be _somewhere_ in her mound of sheets… It was beyond her how she managed to get her sheets so tangled up during the night. If she didn't dream, then why did she toss and turn so much? She didn't usually… And then it made sense—she must have forgotten to take her potion in the excitement of returning to Hogwarts… but she'd do that later. The journal was of more importance at the moment.

Finally, she managed to untangle the journal from where it seemed to almost literally be tied in a knot of sheets, and stuffed it inside her robes. Even though Quirrell was gone and there wasn't likely to be an emergency in which she'd have to talk to Severus immediately, she liked carrying the journal around with her. It felt like she had a part of_ him_ with her.

Then, as she rummaged through her trunk to find the phial that Severus had sent a few days after she had arrived at home for the summer, she found the intricately detailed box that held the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards, and paused. _Hmm…_ She considered for a moment, running her thumb over the carved designs on the wood. Yes, she should keep those with her at all times as well. She'd wait for chances to use them to present themselves, and she'd always be ready. Removing the deck from its box and putting them in an inner robe pocket, she reached for her potion and took a sip.

It was still early, but not any earlier than she used to leave her dorm for breakfast at. Vesperra slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and made for the door, and noticed that Millicent hadn't stirred, or shown any sign of regaining consciousness. She briefly wondered if she'd wake up before lessons started, or if the impact had caused a concussion. Remembering with a smirk that she didn't care, Vesperra left for the Great Hall.

* * *

A blanket of dark velvet rested upon the grounds of Hogwarts, and the only light was provided by the stars sparsely scattered across the sky. Severus was enjoying his midnight stroll around the castle, especially the light, cool breeze, even though it was blowing his hair into his face. No one else was out this late, so it was quiet and peaceful… and he really needed some peace.

It seemed like he had been walking along the lake's edge for hours when a strange noise came from behind—a noise that he recognized, but was unlike anything ever heard at Hogwarts. Well, it had been until a few hours earlier.

Severus whirled around, and a sudden gust of wind whipped his hair and robes back. A blindingly white light obscured his vision for a moment, but then died down, still leaving orange spots in his retinas. The source of the light had stopped in front of him, making a low, rumbling noise. Despite the darkness, he could see clearly what it was and what—_who_ was inside it.

The headlights of the Ford Anglia had diminished so that they were merely two dimly glowing eyes of the metal beast before him. Without even realizing that his body had made the decision to move, he was now standing to the right of the car, hunched over to see into the window, where Potter sat, smirking horribly.

There were no questions, no confusion, and no complex thought whatsoever. The next few words that slipped out of his mouth seemed not to be his, but someone else's… not that he disagreed with them.

"You are expelled," said Severus, not sure whether he should be scowling or smiling. After what had happened earlier that night, Potter had to be expelled. Dumbledore would simply not allow such an incessant disregard for the rules… not even from his _favorite_. He opened the door to let the boy out, who was still smirking.

"You can't expel me, Snivellus," Potter said, and Severus could have sworn he just grew a few feet taller…

"And why is that, Potter?" he growled, now at eye level with the little brat… but he wasn't so little anymore. His face had aged a few years so that he looked about sixteen… and his scar was gone, along with his green eyes, which were now brown… Was he staring at Harry Potter, or James Potter? The thought had just barely crossed his mind when he became indifferent to it, only vaguely realizing that anything was out of the ordinary. And even though he couldn't see himself or feel any physical difference, Severus somehow knew that he was no longer thirty-two… He had reverted back into his sixteen year-old self. Perhaps it was because his facial features felt suddenly more relaxed, or because his mindset was now a teenager's. Whatever the means by which he knew, he no longer remembered any of his life after sixteen…

"Because, there's something you want down the tunnel from the Whomping Willow, isn't there?" said Potter.

He remembered it now, as if the thought had been there before Potter said it. Yes, there was something that he wanted… but what exactly was it, and how to get to it?

"If you press a twig to the knot near the bottom of the trunk, the branches'll freeze and you'll be able to see what's down there." he continued, stepping back inside the Ford Anglia. Without another word and surprisingly fast, he drove away, leaving Severus to wonder why that sounded familiar…

So he ran. Severus ran, letting his feet carry him while he paid no attention… But he knew where they'd bring him. And there he stood, at the Whomping Willow, which Davy Gudgeon had been hurt so badly by that he had to be carted off to St. Mungo's… But Severus wasn't afraid, partly because he had the strangest of feelings that he had done this before, and partly because he felt he already knew what lay at the end.

Just as Potter said, he got a twig to press the knot, and the tree froze. Down the tunnel he went, crawling on his hands and knees in what should have been dirt, though it felt far softer than dirt… In no time, the tunnel began to widen until it led up to a shabby-looking room, and Severus climbed out of the end…

On the bed across from him lay a girl that looked about his age, with greasy-looking, dirty blonde hair that had a slight reddish tint. She was exactly what he had expected to find here, but before that very second, he hadn't even remembered that she existed. It was Vesperra—and somewhere in the very back of his mind, he was aware that she was much younger than him—not actually sixteen like she appeared now, and that he was actually much older… But all that was relevant at the moment was that he had come to find her, and rescue her… _wait, rescue her from what?_

This was the first inkling of fear or uncertainty that he remembered having, and it was awful. He knew that Vesperra was in danger, and it felt as if he had known it all along, but he had no idea what the danger _was_.

Vesperra seemed uninterested in her surroundings, unable to feel the awful sense of foreboding that Severus did. He looked around, waiting for something to happen.

At that moment, James Potter and Sirius Black emerged from the corner, appearing to have been there the whole time, just invisible. Potter went for Vesperra, and Severus immediately tried to run forward to her, but he was stopped by an invisible force… like a shield between him and the rest of the room. Black was doing nothing but standing there, laughing at Severus's attempts to get past the shield.

Only when Potter grabbed her by the wrist, jerked her off the bed, and forced her against the wall did Vesperra seem to understand what was happening—that she was not safe, and that she couldn't be protected.

"Severus!" she said, straining against Potter's hold. Oh, how he wanted to wrench her from Potter's grasp… but he couldn't. It was impossible. And the thing keeping him from doing so no longer seemed to be any sort of shield, but something in his body that wasn't allowing him to try hard enough. _Something_ was restraining his limbs—or his mind, whichever—so he could barely exert any force on his muscles. And he absolutely hated it.

Potter was going to hurt her, and he couldn't do a thing about it…_ No… You've already taken Lily away from me, you will _not_ take her away too! _As he thought it, Potter's mouth closed around Vesperra's unwilling one, and he could only watch in horror as her fists beat upon the other boy's shoulders, unsuccessfully trying to push him away… But—_no…_ She stopped resisting, and she pulled him closer instead… _No…_

They pulled apart long enough for Potter to give Severus a nasty grin, but it wasn't James anymore… It was back to Harry—a sixteen year-old Harry, but the presence of a lighting scar made it obvious…

This time, he yelled out loud. "_Potter!_ I—will—_kill_—you—"

His voice was interrupted by another laugh from Black, which shook the entire room, causing rubble and rotted chunks of wood to fall from the ceiling. The room was filled with dust, and Severus could not see anything for several agonizingly drawn-out seconds. The dust did not, however, affect his breathing… In fact, at the moment, he had no use for breathing. When it had gone, Potter had transformed once again… Or at least, where Potter had once stood, there was now a new figure, clad from head to feet in a hooded cloak. The man turned to Severus, and a brief glint of red flashed in his direction. He used a pale, long-fingered hand to pull a wand from his robes, a wand Severus recognized…

Vesperra's face was contorted in fear as she pressed herself closer to the wall, with nowhere to run. Cackling echoed through the Shrieking Shack, coming from both Black and the man in the cloak… Then for a split second darkness engulfed the room, and when light returned, it was bright green light illuminating Vesperra's face, and the cackling was so loud that it drowned out Severus's screams of "_NO!_ _Please—spare her!_ _Please…_" And he closed his eyes tight, not wanting to witness the horror.

When he opened them again, he was no longer in the Shrieking Shack. He was alone—neither Sirius Black nor Lord Voldemort were laughing in the center of the room, and Vesperra was not sprawled out on the floor, dead. Had he been hit with the curse as well? Was this some sort of limbo in between life and death?

It took a moment, but Severus recognized the room to be his room, and realized that he was lying on his bed, which was void of sheets. His chest was heaving up and down rapidly, and felt hot at the core like the rest of his body. His skin felt moist—and a touch to his face proved that he was drenched in sweat. Judging by the blankets strewn across the floor, he had kicked them off the bed in his sleep.

The one thing that managed to stay on the bed with him was a small, leather-bound journal with a brightly gleaming silver _L_ on the front. Rolling over, he picked it up and held the cold metal of the _L_ to his burning face. _It wasn't real, it wasn't real…_ he told himself. _It's not real._

_Potter, driving the car… Then Potter getting older and me getting younger… Then the tree, and Vesperra, and Potter and Black… And I… I couldn't stop him… and Voldemort…_ It wasn't as if Severus had never had a nightmare before, because he had. The majority of his life had _been_ a nightmare. But the thing that made this one particularly terrifying was the fact that he didn't understand it. He knew, from experience, that all dreams had some sort of meaning—especially _his_ dreams. But this… this wasn't plainly etched, black-and-white, or easily understood. Obviously, there had been the general themes of most of his dreams—the mutual hate between him and both Potters, how he cared so much about Vesperra…

But Lily had only appeared in his thoughts within the dream. And everyone had transformed into someone else at one time or another… _Ugh…_ He scowled at no one in particular, angry with himself for getting this worked up about a _dream_. It was just a damn dream! It was just supposed to be a really cruel, screwed up way for his brain to tell him that he cared about Vesperra and, possibly, that he feared her death more than anything. There was no need to read further into it, because sometimes dreams were just confusing. Sometimes, random, insignificant details like those meant absolutely nothing.

It was still fairly early in the morning, he noticed. So Severus got ready, washing out all the left-over musings about his dream down the drain while he showered. Just for good measure, he found a Calming Drought on a shelf near his bed, and downed it all at once. The potion worked its magic, and he could feel his mind altering itself and his muscles relaxing as he exited the dungeons and made for the Great Hall—After all, it didn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. He needed to forget the dream, and just look forward to that evening… precisely at eight.

* * *

"Draco, are you going to try out for the Quidditch team?"

"I don't need to try out... I'm already on the team."

Gasps of delight and surprise filled that area of the Slytherin table, and all but one leaned in, staring at Malfoy wide-eyed, waiting for him to elaborate. The one that didn't had stopped dead in the middle of chewing a bit of sausage as the news hit her ears, her fork still held halfway in between her plate and mouth. At the same time, her face contorted in shock and disgust, and she inhaled sharply.

The half-chewed sausage was then lodged in her windpipe, and her eyes widened in realization that she was choking. It was nothing, really—and she knew it would only cause embarrassment if she let it be known… so she tried to cough it up quickly, but it only slid further down her throat.

Her struggles did not go unnoticed, as all the Slytherin second years were now staring at her rather than Malfoy, smiling as they watched her face go red.

"Something stuck in your throat, Grease-perra?" asked Malfoy casually, triggering chuckles across the table. She glared at him through watering eyes, now bent over the table.

At last, her airway was cleared and she straightened herself in her seat, massaging her neck. She wiped her eyes, from which tears of pain had involuntarily forced their way out. Malfoy was still grinning, and Vesperra had the urge to wring his neck like a chicken's… Yes, _that_ would surely wipe the grin off his face…

"But yes," said Malfoy as if nothing had interrupted him. "I've already spoken to Flint. My father arranged it ages ago… He's donated seven _Nimbus Two-thousand and Ones_ to the team, and _I'm_ their newest player."

"But there was only one open position, Draco…" said Pansy. "So that means…"

"I'm the new Seeker, yes." He smirked smugly, taking in all the admiration from his fellow Slytherins. "But don't tell any Gryffindors… I want to see the look on Potter's face when he sees _me_ on the field… You know, I'll be the best thing that's ever happened to the team. Potter won't be so famous anymore, especially not on the Quidditch field, when he's finally met his match… If only I had been chosen _last_ year, then Slytherin wouldn't have broken its winning streak," he finished angrily.

Vesperra had never cared much about Quidditch, unless it involved Slytherin winning or Gryffindor losing. As independent as she was, she was still a Slytherin, and Slytherins like nothing more than _winning_. But now that Malfoy was on the team… she wanted nothing to do with the sport. And he hadn't even got on the team by skill—he just bought his way on. She didn't think it possible, but she now hated Malfoy even more.

"Maybe you can try out for the team next year, Grease-perra…" said Tracey, and the others stared at her, confused. "You'd make a good Quaffle, wouldn't you?"

"I'd make a good _Bludger_, too," Vesperra muttered, unheard over the laughter at the table.

"But then everyone would have to _touch_ her, Tracey, that's disgusting!" Daphne said in between laughs.

"You guys are stupid," said Blaise as he finished swallowing a bite of his kippers. "How would they manage to hold onto her in the first place? The grease would have her slipping out of their hands the entire game."

It was always Zabini with the deadpan comments, and it was always those that had the Slytherins burst into laughter. They weren't necessarily as cruel as Malfoy's or Pansy's, but they were clever and even Vesperra had to give him credit for that.

"No—wait, I change my mind," Tracey said. "She can't be a Quaffle, or else it'll be an awfully boring game… By some chance that they did manage to keep their grip on her, the Keepers would never make any saves because they'll fly in the opposite direction—so they won't have to touch her."

Before anyone could do more than begin to smile, there was a noise so loud and unexpected that many people jumped up as if there was an explosion.

"_**I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D DO SOMETHING AS STUPID AS STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU—**_" Vesperra didn't need to turn around to know who had received the Howler, but she did anyway. Weasley was sinking in his own humiliation, but Potter sat upright, even as his name was mentioned. _They deserve more than just humiliation… _thought Vesperra, hating Potter for getting more attention than he deserved or needed, especially since he should have been expelled after what he did.

She wished she could use the noise of the Howler as a cover to leave while everyone else's attention wasn't on her, but she had to stay in the Great Hall long enough for Severus to hand out their course schedules. It felt weird knowing that she'd have to get used to calling him "Professor Snape" again, since she couldn't slip and accidentally call him "Severus" during class. The very thought of what might happen if she _did_ was terrifying.

After the Howler's screams had ended, Vesperra was grateful, for Malfoy and the others now had something else to laugh at, and hardly even looked at her. As Severus moved along the Slytherin table, passing the students their schedules, she noticed a new addition to the table—Millicent had just sat down next to Goyle. Part of her was relieved that she hadn't suffered anything serious, and the other, disappointed.

No one else noticed her, as they were all listening to each other's retellings of last night's incident. Vesperra glanced at Millicent for a split second, and the girl glared back in a way that made her sure that she remembered what happened earlier that morning. It didn't seem like she was planning on telling anyone… but Slytherins were known for getting revenge. Then again, Bullstrode might just give it up after realizing what Vesperra could do to her if provoked… She'd have to count on that, and just avoid Bullstrode. It wasn't as if she didn't normally avoid most people, anyway.

As she reached for the milk jug, something soft lightly brushed her cheek, and a hand appeared in front of her face, holding a sheet of parchment. When she took it from him, he pulled back his arm and the fabric of his sleeve brushed her skin ever so lightly again, and she felt herself flush at his touch. She didn't dare look up at him, especially since the other second years were already smirking at her, and instead tried to hide her face in her schedule.

Tilting her head very slightly, she saw Severus handing Malfoy his schedule, who did not cease his stupid little smirk as he took it. And she might have imagined it, but he seemed to make no more than a jerking motion of his wrist to give out every other schedule, and merely let it fall next to their plate if they weren't already looking at him. For no one else did he gracefully slide the parchment into view, or wait for them to take it… Merlin, did she just call him graceful? _Yes… I did._

Ignoring the unwavering smirks boring into her and the hotness in her face, she skimmed her schedule for the week. Vesperra exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in for the past couple minutes, grabbed her bag, and left immediately for her first lesson.

* * *

It was extremely difficult, watching Vesperra's hand fly to her chest as she tried to dislodge whatever she was choking on and not rushing down there to help. It was even worse seeing that no one near her seemed the least bit concerned—not that he expected them to be, but they all smiled, watching her choke as though it were entertaining. To them, it probably was.

Even though he knew she'd end up coughing it out in a moment, he wanted so very badly to help her, then give detentions to everyone who watched it happen without any intention to help. But she was too far away to aim an _Anapneo_ at her, and how would it look if he strode down there just to help her? It would be obvious that he'd been watching them, and even more obvious that he cared about her far more than the others. He could _not_ allow anyone to get the faintest idea of his and Vesperra's relationship… but what exactly _was_ their relationship? You could call it friends, but there were times where she seemed like much more than a friend, and yet much less than a lover. Did just _friends_ lock gazes of such intensity like they did? Did just _friends_ crave the warmth of each other's hands like they did? It had been so long since he had grasped her hand…

He gripped the edge of the table, watching her choke and just sitting there… _That's it—if she hasn't coughed it out in the next ten seconds, I'll_—and then she did, and he was relieved. She put a hand to her throat and her eyes were watering, her face red… And then his dream started bothering him again. But why? She wasn't in mortal danger just then—it was just a bit of food stuck in her throat. It wasn't like him to let a dream get to him… and he wasn't going to. Severus continued eating his breakfast, glancing at Vesperra every minute or so. She never glanced back, or even looked in his direction, and he thought he knew why—the other Slytherin second years all had their eyes on her, likely having a fun round of 'Let's torture Vesperra.' She wouldn't be so stupid as to risk them having yet another thing to tease her about.

And suddenly, the Gryffindor table exploded with noise—it was a shrill voice, magnified so that it echoed throughout the Great Hall just as the cackling had in his nightmare… But Severus was shaken by it for only a moment, because he then realized that the voice was coming from a Howler, and the recipient of said Howler was Ronald Weasley. The entire Great Hall had gone silent to listen.

Severus smirked at Weasley's humiliation, but all he really cared about was whether or not Potter would suffer the same. The only mention of him at all was "_**—YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—**_" So Weasley's mother only cared about Potter's _safety_, did she? It was his fault as much as her son's… But she favored Potter. Just because he was the bloody Boy Who Lived… Well, he _would_ have detention… and when lessons started, he'd continue to teach the little brat that being famous didn't matter at all to _him_. Why, Vesperra was probably one of the most disliked people in her year, and she was the best in his class…

And then he remembered—Weasley's mother was right. Potter _could_ have died. Severus was supposed to protect him… but Potter had put himself in danger, and there wasn't a thing he could have done about it. What if the boys hadn't been so lucky, and actually did die? How would it have been if a stupid accident out of his control claimed that boy's life? Severus had to _protect_ him, but he was making it pretty damn hard! Did that kid _want_ to die? Not only did he need protection from anyone more magically skilled than him (which was everyone), but from himself, too…

His sense of guilt over near-failure had been replaced by anger—mostly because he didn't want to feel guilty. There was nothing to feel guilty for. But a shred of guilt and dread was somewhere inside him, and anger was the only way he knew to get rid of it. Severus didn't even attempt to calm down when, almost immediately after the Howler curled into ashes, it was time for the Heads of House to hand out course schedules.

Along with McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, he rose from the Staff Table and made his way down his House table with a stack of parchment, and handed each student the one bearing their name. As a teacher, he was able to put a name to a face and find that person's schedule in a microsecond, especially for those that he had been teaching for years. When he found himself halfway down the Slytherin table where all the second years were sitting, he was glad to note that no one was talking to Vesperra. However, when he withdrew her schedule from the stack in his arms and held it in front of her face, they all threw her smirks—and there was no mistaking what they meant.

He continued on with passing out schedules, and didn't care to_ really_ look at anyone unless he couldn't tell who they were by the back of their head. And he didn't look back at Vesperra, because he knew they'd be watching.

* * *

The first lesson of the year for second year Slytherins was History of Magic. Oblivious to the fact that half the class had fallen asleep and even Vesperra had given up trying to take notes after the first few minutes, Professor Binns droned on about medieval wizards for a full forty-five minutes. As the bell rang and everyone seemed relieved, he assigned them an essay to be due next week and they were free to go to Double Charms with the Ravenclaws.

They were learning the very spell Vesperra had used on the Chocolate Frog cards in the Hogwarts express, so it was no trouble for her. Flitwick had them start on bottle caps, and then on gradually larger things. Only Vesperra and a few others had progressed to old books, and Flitwick didn't want them making anything bigger than that spin in the air. Her mind automatically went to wondering what would happen if she tried the charm on Malfoy, which made it a lot easier to ignore the glares she was getting from all the Slytherins that were barely successful using the charm on Galleons. Crabbe and Goyle had tried to nick some, but were highly disappointed when Flitwick told them they were fake and took ten points from Slytherin.

Lunch came and went, and the only class left for the day was Transfiguration. After some very complex and extensive notes, they were set to turn a beetle into a button. The only trouble was keeping the beetle still… Vesperra managed by pinching it in between her fingers. Her first beetle lost its legs and antennae, then the second did the same, but also became much rounder. About five beetles later, they looked almost like perfect buttons, but they still had eyes. She finally mastered it with only ten minutes left in class, and continued Transfiguring more beetles for the heck of it.

Vesperra left McGonagall's classroom somewhat frustrated that it took so long to get that particular spell right, and blamed it on the fact that it was difficult to focus completely when she was looking forward to helping Severus later that day. _Yeah, I'm sure that'll be useful in the future… If I ever lose a coat button and happen to find a beetle before I even think to use a Summoning Charm… And that's really likely._

She had been about to start down the path that would take her down to the dungeons, but quickly changed her mind and decided to go to the library instead. Since she wanted to avoid the Slytherins, as even more than the second years were likely to know that she had been in Knockturn Alley by now, it seemed stupid to cross through the Common Room to get to her dorm.

The only homework she had so far was Professor Binns's essay, which she had partly finished during the break after lunch, so she figured she should finish it while she had the time.

After she had written all that she could on the subject Binns assigned them—which ended up being several inches longer than necessary even in her small handwriting—and dinner, Vesperra had nothing left to do but wait until eight o'clock came around. Actually, there was some reading she wanted to get done…

Passing through the Slytherin Common Room quickly, she did not even allow herself to see whether or not they were glaring at her through her peripheral vision. But she was sure that they were. She was looking forward to her long awaited time with Severus far more than she dreaded any more attempts from them to discover what she had bought in Knockturn Alley.

For the couple hours that she had before eight, Vesperra studied her book of poisons intently. She tried to find antidotes specifically for what Severus said they'd be doing, but the book seemed to only have serious poisons that, at the very least, caused awful illnesses. There was nothing in there that she wouldn't give to Malfoy…

It was quite interesting to learn the extent of some poisons, and it gave Vesperra sort of a sense of power to know that she held in her hands a book of knowledge that no student of Hogwarts, especially not second years, were supposed to know. She sincerely doubted that any of those poisons would be found in a book outside of the Restricted Section.

Then, her eyes fell upon four words that made her heart stop. Vesperra hadn't even known more than the name of the poison when she read it underneath the title: _Developed by Severus Prince_.

For a moment, she thought that she had read it wrong, so she read it again, and more slowly. Nope, she didn't read it wrong at all. This made no sense… It obviously couldn't mean_ her_ Severus, because when she checked the year it was developed, it said _1894_. And she had never heard of the Prince family… It seemed stupid to think that the two could be related when they shared a first name rather than their surname… But Severus wasn't a very common name, was it? It _couldn't_ just be a coincidence… especially since they both had a connection with potions.

Vesperra had a feeling that Severus would know if she asked him, but then she'd have to tell him about the book, and that she had bought it in Knockturn Alley. Giving a growl of frustration at realizing just how much she didn't know, she began to read through Severus Prince's poison's effects in case it held any clues. But a quick glance at the clock completely erased all contemplations, and there was no time to do so anyway. Closing the book and putting it back in her trunk, she grabbed her dragon hide gloves and left for Severus's office.

* * *

By the end of the day, Severus's dream was still there in the back of his mind, but he refused to let it trouble him. It wasn't that difficult, either, because something else had taken up residence in his mind after the lesson he had taught prior to lunch.

He couldn't help but feel curious about it, but he also had another strange feeling that he couldn't put a name to. It had been his double lesson with the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and it was probably what he least expected to happen. But he couldn't take her seriously… she hardly seemed sane. The hardest thing to decide, however, was whether or not he should tell Vesperra. No doubt she'd find it amusing… or was there? She might get angry or embarrassed… and what if, by some small chance, it _was_ true? No, it couldn't be…

Severus cleared the table in the very center of the office and set up the cauldron, but decided not to lay out any of the ingredients because he wanted to have a chance to give Vesperra a tour of his storeroom and show her where everything was. As it was the first day of term, there was nothing to grade and practically nothing else to do, so he took to pacing and thinking.

Every minute brought him closer to eight, but he tried not to watch the clock. Watching the clock never made time move faster, he knew this… The twenty-something-est time he turned his head towards his clock, three quick knocks brought his heartbeat to an alarmingly fast pace.

* * *

The door swung open, and the two saw each other up close for the first time in over two months. Vesperra's eyes lit up and she smiled, really smiled, as she stepped in and Severus closed the door.

"Severus!" she greeted breathlessly, resisting the urge to get a running start and tackle-hug him.

He smiled in the same way, taking in her face like a fresh breath of air. But then his smile faltered as he noticed the differences in her from the end of last year. She had grown an inch or two, but she was also noticeably skinnier. He could see it in her face, too… It was more angular than before, and her eyes, as full of happiness they were at the moment, they looked a bit sunken.

Vesperra saw him frowning at her and, confused, narrowed her eyes.

"Vesperra, you really _weren't_ getting enough to eat at home…" Severus said, kneeling down and examining her closer. He wanted to hug her, or even hold her arm for a brief moment, but she looked so fragile that he could break her very easily. He hadn't been able to tell how malnourished she was from up at the Staff Table, or even when he walked directly behind her that morning…

Oh. Now she understood. Damn, he was always so bloody worried about her… "I'm fine, Severus, really…" But she trailed off, not able to think of anything else to tell him. The aching feeling she had felt during the later weeks of summer was gone, since she was finally able to see him. He was right there, in front of her, and pretty close…

"But… that's unhealthy, Vesperra…" Without realizing it, Severus began searching her face and neck for bruises, because he wouldn't put it past her parents to hit her. Very lightly, he took her right arm and pushed up the sleeve, and was slightly relieved to see no bruises there, either. But it was much too thin… and suddenly, Severus was feeling angry. "Your mum can afford food… so why haven't you been eating?"

She could hear the edge in his voice and the flame in his eyes, but he held her wrist with such softness that you'd think he was holding a glass vase, or something he couldn't risk breaking… "I don't like leaving my room that often," said Vesperra. "I don't want to risk my mum or dad finding a reason to yell at me, or start a fight… because whenever they see me, they seem to get angrier. So I only come out for food when they yell for me to come eat, or when they're not home… But it doesn't matter, Severus! The Hogwarts food will have me perfectly healthy again within a week."

Nodding in agreement but not any less angry at her parents, he let go of her arm and stood up. "Come on, I need to show you my storeroom before we start the antidote." He was still afraid of holding her hand too hard and hurting her, so he placed his hand in between her shoulder blades and led her to his private stores.

Vesperra's eyes widened in interest as she looked around at all the jars and read the labels… There was just so much… A lot of the things she recognized from the book she had read about in that book for creatures and how their parts could be used in Dark potions, and some of them from her book of poisons and antidotes. She also came upon many things she hadn't heard of, like _Necrantia limbs_, which looked like newt legs.

Amused at the controlled excitement in her eyes, Severus stood and let her look around for a minute. After some time, she seemed to remember what they were there for and turned to him.

"Which one are we starting today?"

"A fever potion," said Severus. "for decreasing body temperature and reducing inflammation… But first, I want to make sure you know where everything is in here." He led her along the walls, explaining the assortment of ingredients. "Horizontally, everything is in alphabetical order by creature or plant species—all plants are on the upper half. Vertically, they are sorted by the part of the creature they come from—or if they're plants, whether they're herbs, fungi, bark, berries, or something else. Does that make sense?"

Vesperra nodded, and Severus gave her an impressed smirk. _Of course it made sense to her—everything makes sense to her. _"We'll get started, then."

Together, they took the ingredients they needed from his stores and the student cupboard—not all the ingredients they needed were rare or expensive—and laid them upon the table. Only when Severus lit the base of the large cauldron did Vesperra notice a major complication.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"In case you haven't noticed, this table comes all the way up to my chest… I don't think I'm tall enough to work on it."

"Oh…" How did he not realize that? "I'm sorry, Vesperra… sometimes I forget you're much younger—and shorter—than I am." With a complicated wave of his wand, he conjured a stool. "There, stand on that."

When she did, she felt much more comfortable with the table at waist level… and both of them noticed that Vesperra came up to his shoulder. It felt odd, because they had never been able to be at eye level with each other unless Severus was kneeling—or on one occasion, carrying her.

And they got to work. Vesperra did exactly as he told her, and even took initiative once or twice and started things without being told.

"Are you familiar with this particular potion, Vesperra?" he asked when she reached for the ginger roots and began dicing them seconds before he was about to tell her to do so. It was the fourth time she hadn't waited for instructions, and he doubted that they were just lucky guesses. Even if she had guessed, she wouldn't do it unless she knew it was supposed to be done.

She didn't know what he meant at first, but then realized that she was doing things out of her own instinct, and he hadn't even told her to do them. "No, I'm not… but I know the effects of most herbs…" Vesperra had literally read _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ cover to cover, and had taken extensive notes in her research for a dream-inducing potion. It wasn't difficult to memorize when she was thinking about them every night, forming combinations in her head…

"How did you know the ginger was to be diced, and not shredded, or crushed into a paste?" he asked slowly.

"Because—well, I know the Doxy wings act as sort of an inhibitor so the swelling of the drinker won't decrease so much that their skin tightens, but it's not a very strong inhibitor—so the ginger needs to be less potent… and dicing it seems the best way, since it limits the surface area and how much can be absorbed."

Severus blinked. His lips curled into a smile, and he was thoroughly impressed. He really shouldn't have been, as he knew Vesperra to be quite gifted in Potions… but most of his older students wouldn't have thought of that.

For the remainder of their time preparing ingredients and stirring the potion, the two often stole looks at each other. Vesperra couldn't get enough of Severus—she had missed him so _bloody_ much, and it felt so wonderful to finally spend time with him. As usual, she particularly enjoyed the small things… how his hair framed his face like two dark curtains, how he pursed his lips awkwardly when he bent close to smell the fumes of the potion, how his left hand rested upon the table while the other stirred… She'd be quite embarrassed to admit it, and didn't even understand why, but every glance she took rendered her incapable of breathing for a few seconds.

Every few minutes, Severus took a moment to watch Vesperra at work, and couldn't help but admire her precision. She was a perfectionist… she made sure everything was exact, and wouldn't settle for anything less. Just like him.

But they didn't talk while they worked, because they both focused their best when there was nothing to distract them. Neither of them had a problem with it, though, because even though they hadn't spoken in person that much, it was nice just to see each other, and be in the same room. However, during the few times that the potion needed to simmer for a few minutes before adding anything else, they had some conversation. They continued ranting about Potter and Weasley, but decided to stop at one point, as it made both of them a bit too angry. Their talk traveled to other topics, and they were reluctant to stop each time the simmering was done and they had to resume working.

Soon, all of the ingredients had been added, and Severus stopped stirring. Vesperra peered into the cauldron, and saw that the potion was an iridescent blue, almost like the Emberys's wings.

"So we're finished?" she asked.

"Loosely speaking, yes… but it still has to sit out in a cool temperature for three days before we can put it in flasks and give them to Madam Pomfrey." He extinguished the fire on the base of the cauldron and looked to her. "Meanwhile, it's past ten. You should return to your dorm."

"_Severus_, I haven't seen you in over two months before yesterday," said Vesperra, folding her arms. "I'd rather stay in here and talk to you… Besides, do you think I'm going to leave you to clear up by yourself?"

"No, I wouldn't think so," he said with a smirk. After the table was clean and all the scraps of ingredients were Vanished, Severus put the cauldron away in a dungeon chamber where it would cool and returned to his office, where Vesperra was waiting on his couch.

For the next hour, they simply enjoyed each other's company and talked, Severus's hand lying on top of hers all the while. Severus told her about the staff meeting and what Lockhart was like, and Vesperra told him about her ride on the train. It seemed to have piqued his interest when she described the insane girl that she later found out to be Luna Lovegood.

"Have you had the Lovegood girl in any of your classes yet?" she asked, wondering if he'd seen firsthand just how crazy she was.

"Actually yes, I have… And she told me the most _interesting_ thing about you…" He wasn't sure why he decided to tell her about the thing that he'd been wondering about all day, but he just had to.

"She talked to you—about me?" said Vesperra, completely confused. "What did she say?"

Leaning a bit closer towards her face and staring at her curiously, he said, "That you fancy me."

Vesperra flushed with—well, she wasn't sure whether it was anger or embarrassment, and automatically jerked her hand away from Severus's. "That was just what Malfoy said to Lovegood on the train, and she must have taken it seriously—she doesn't know what she's talking about!" Her voice rose as her color did, and she was now scowling and not looking at Severus.

"_Obviously,_ I realized that. The girl is crackers. She and Dumbledore would make good friends," he said. This made Vesperra feel a lot better, and she turned back to him, but still unsmiling.

"Funny you would say that, because Malfoy practically said the same thing…" And she recounted exactly what Malfoy had said, cheering up as she watched a hatred—no doubt for Malfoy—grow in his expression.

He then felt compelled to tell her about the context of the situation between him and the Lovegood girl.

Severus had been observing the students' potions as usual, and when he made it to Lovegood's, he saw that she'd been going by her own instructions and it was a miracle there hadn't been an explosion yet. After he had told her off and Vanished her potion, she had looked at him with a creepily dreamy expression, and said, "You're a very grumpy person, sir. I think that's why Vesperra fancies you, because she makes the same facial expressions."

That had been so unexpected that the entire classroom had gone silent, many students looking fearful for what would happen to the Lovegood girl. Severus had been much too bewildered to respond, but it was one of the first times he had taken points from Ravenclaw in a classroom setting.

"The only thing that doesn't make sense is how she knew my name," said Vesperra when he had finished. "I never told her my name."

"But she heard Malfoy call you—your… nickname, right?" He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Yes, but I don't see how she could assume my actual name from 'Grease-perra'… And do we really make the same facial expressions?"

"How do you expect me to know? I don't know what my own expressions look like… I don't ever stand in front of the mirror and make facial expressions."

"Well, Lovegood said we do… And as crazy as she is, she seems to have a knack for noticing everything."

"I wouldn't doubt that we have similar expressions…" Severus mused. "What all is there? A scowl, an annoyed look, and a smirk that usually means we've poisoned someone…" _And the occasional genuine smile,_ he thought.

"Who have you poisoned?" joked Vesperra.

"No one you know… And you?"

"I swear if Potter wakes up in the Hospital Wing tomorrow, it wasn't me."

"It might have been me, then."

Vesperra sniggered, and soon found herself laughing and not even attempting to suppress it as she gripped Severus's arm for support, who started laughing as well. Only after they stopped and Vesperra was leaning against him arm did she realize that it was a quarter to midnight, and that she _was_ pretty tired…

Severus looked down at Vesperra and saw her slumped against him with her eyes closed. He could feel her breathing even out, and immediately shook her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and he steadied her.

"Vesperra, you need to get back to your dorm," Severus said.

Still half-asleep, she forced herself to focus on Severus's face. "Yeah, I should…" Before standing up from the couch, she leaned into him again, but this time for a hug. Being only partly-conscious, she hadn't thought about doing it and was hardly aware of making the decision to do it. But he didn't seem to mind.

"'Night, Severus," said Vesperra after a moment, and she let go of him and left the couch.

"'Night," said Severus as she walked towards the door. She merely smiled in response before exiting his office.

* * *

The rest of the nights that week were similar to that one, though they didn't all end in Vesperra nearly falling asleep on him. Her classes didn't keep her too busy, so she had some time in between homework and helping Severus to search the library for the various things she wanted to know.

Though it shouldn't have, the dream-inducing potion took precedence in her mind and she spent most of her time looking through Potions books and checking them out to read later. By the end of the week, she still hadn't found anything, and was getting frustrated.

But that frustration was nothing compared to the dread she felt when she realized that her first class on Friday was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The second year Slytherins lined outside the door to the classroom that used to be Quirrell's, some looking bored, and others looking excited. Vesperra didn't think her expression would be readable to anyone else, but she wished that she were anywhere else. She had heard about what happened in Lockhart's lesson with the second year Gryffindors—Severus had told her from what he heard in the staffroom. Lockhart had brought a cage full of Cornish pixies to show them, but couldn't even control them himself. Obviously, this man had no idea what he was doing. _Severus deserves the job much more than him…_

When Lockhart showed up and unlocked the door for them, Vesperra noticed Tracey and Daphne give him hopeful smiles. It was sickening.

He then introduced himself in the most pompous, conceited way possible, and flashed them all a wide smile. "I see you've all bought my books—excellent, I don't doubt that they were exhilarating!" As he paused, Vesperra gave an audible snort, which Lockhart didn't seem to notice. "Well, we're going to start the day with a little quiz, so I know how well you've read them."

He passed out their test papers and gave them thirty minutes to finish. Vesperra looked down at hers—it was hardly little. There were three full pages. And as she read through the questions, her expression contorted more and more into one of disgust. They were all… about_ him_. Every—single—bloody—one. They read:

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

_4. If Gilderoy Lockhart were given the choice, who would he most want to spend a day with?_

And it continued for fifty-four questions. This was all what must have been in the flowery parts of the books. This was everything that she had skipped over… But she wasn't panicking, because she didn't give a damn about passing that quiz… She felt defiant, and for the first time in her life, she felt bold enough to contradict a teacher.

Leaving the quiz completely unmarked, she raised her hand and waited for Lockhart to notice her. But the other students turned their heads before he did, and gaped at Vesperra. There was no question as to why—she had never raised her hand in any class before. Every time she had ever won points for Slytherin House, it had been for mastering a charm, Transfiguring something correctly, getting a potion perfectly, or answering a question asked specifically to her. She never showed off that she knew anything.

"Ah, you have a question about how I worded a question?" said Lockhart, walking towards her. "It's completely understandable—my vocabulary is often too advanced for some and might be confusing—"

"No, I didn't have a question," said Vesperra, incensed that he would dare suggest he was superior to her. "I just noticed that this quiz has absolutely nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Now the others were staring at her with even more surprise, and possibly amazement. Lockhart, however, gave her a slightly confused smile. "Why, of course it does! You must not have read my books properly, young lady—"

"You're right, I skipped over all the unimportant parts." she said, eliciting some stifled laughs from Theodore Nott. Lockhart didn't seem to realize what she meant by that, and before he could respond, Vesperra continued. "These questions are entirely about _you_… and I don't see what that has to do with this class. Unless we're going to be learning about your personal preferences all year, this quiz is completely irrelevant to the curriculum."

Amongst the stares of shock were now a few glares from the other girls, who seemed to like Lockhart. And _still_, the man looked unabashed.

"Au contraire," he said with a roguish smile. "Knowing all about me is extremely important to the curriculum, and you'd know that if you read my books through! Now, class, please continue with the quiz…" As he retreated to his desk, Vesperra could only sit at hers, fuming, with her eye twitching angrily.

_He's incorrigible…_ she thought, no longer attempting to object but still not writing anything in the blanks of her quiz.

Half an hour later, Lockhart had picked up all the quizzes, including Vesperra's blank one. "I'm sorry to say I'm disappointed in all of you…" And then he went on about the various questions that most of them had gotten wrong before setting the test papers on his desk. "Now, I think, I will spend the last quarter of an hour reading you all a passage from my favorite of all my books—_Wanderings with Werewolves_! I expect you to follow along, now…"

Vesperra opened her copy of the book to a random page, and kept it that way while she glared disgustedly at Lockhart. If she was being honest with herself, she'd rather have had Quirrell back than be taught by this man. He was just so full of himself… worse than Potter and Malfoy combined. And it only inflated his ego that many of the girls seemed to have crushes on him…

Looking around, she noticed that Tracey and Daphne had their eyes on Lockhart instead of their books as well, but they weren't glaring. Their fixed gazes were dazed and smiling, and Vesperra couldn't believe that even after his obvious display of conceitedness, they were still so attracted to him.

_How on earth do they find _him_ attractive?_ wondered Vesperra, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Lockhart had the cheerful air that automatically displaced her—she knew that no matter what, she would never do more than grudgingly tolerate him. But he proved to not even be that likeable. And his bright blue eyes, hair that looked held up by too many hair-care products, and perfectly straight nose were even worse. She hated that _that_ was considered handsome to most girls… _Severus is much more attractive._

Finally the bell rang, and Vesperra wasn't the only one that was relieved. Unfortunately, though, she ended up being the last one left in the classroom. As she hastened to leave, a voice called her back.

"Miss D'Monicas, I'd like a word, if you don't mind."

"I _do_ mind, actually…" she growled, trying to continue through the door. But Lockhart didn't give up that easily.

"Aha—No one more than I appreciates a good sense of humor! But do hold on a moment, so I can speak with you."

The only reason Vesperra didn't leave anyway or, at the very least, curse him, was because he was still a teacher, and this was a direct order. Slowly and reluctantly, she walked away from the door and towards him.

"Listen, Miss D'Monicas, I _understand_," he said in a voice that she guessed was an attempt at sounding like he cared about someone other than himself. "You don't seem like the kind of girl that would have many friends, so you lashed out for attention. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little attention, is there?" Realizing at once what he meant, she didn't go to the trouble of hiding the fury on her face. Lockhart reached out a hand to put a hand on her shoulder, and continued, "There's no reason to be embarrassed, it's—"

"_Don't touch me!_" hissed Vesperra, stepping back quickly and swatting his hand away. Throwing him one last look of loathing that even _he_ couldn't mistake for anything else, she threw the door open and hurried to her next lesson.

* * *

**Was that how you expected Vesperra to react to Lockhart? Lol, I didn't either. And do you think Luna's right? Only time will tell... Also, I want to know- at what point during Severus's dream did you realize it was a dream? I try to give hints that it's a dream before anything odd happens, because there's certain things about a dream that I've noticed. Like, your thoughts aren't complex, and if something crazy happens, you're not going to question it. And your thought processes are totally irregular, so you'll completely forget things and randomly remember other things. Also, I noticed that whenever I try to punch someone in my dreams, my arm seems to go in slow motion and I can't move it. Does that happen to anyone else?**

**Oh, and I want to know if you guys know any songs that would go well with Severus and Vesperra. Keep in mind that they're only friends, but really close friends. It can be any genre (and even Wizard Rock), or you could write it yourself, I don't care. But if you do find or know of anything, it would be awesome if you could tell me in a review. Even if you don't have a song, you should review and tell me what you think of this chapter. :D**

**In the next chapter: Severus's Spell, The Lestranges**


	19. Book 2: Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! Especially to Matara. The rest of you go look at her reviews, because they're an awesome example of the kind of reviews I want. I'm not asking you to be _as_ detailed as her, but it would be awesome if you did. Well, this is a dramatic chapter. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

"You did _what_?"

"I told off Lockhart… but it didn't work."

Vesperra, who was leaning back on Severus's couch, scowled as she remembered the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson she had had the previous morning. It was Saturday, and though there was no brewing to be done for another few days, she and Severus had nothing else to do. So she had asked him after breakfast if she could spend the day with him.

She had forgotten to tell him last night, as she had had potions on her mind.

"What do you mean, 'it didn't work'?" asked Severus, cocking his head at her.

Vesperra then explained the quiz Lockhart had given and everything she had said to him, then what he had said back and what happened after class.

Severus couldn't say that he was shocked that Lockhart had given them all a quiz with questions completely about him, or that Vesperra's words hadn't deflated the man's ego at all, but it did, in a way, surprise him. Vesperra never outright insulted anyone… She always ignored it, glared at them, or cursed them—and she saved deliberate insults for those she absolutely loathed. For Lockhart to be on the receiving end of _her_ sarcasm and not be affected was a sure sign of just how air-headed he was.

Not that Severus hadn't realized so, before. Anytime during that week that he had dared spend some time in the staffroom for some coffee or a word with one of the other teachers, he had been forced to listen to Lockhart boasting about his supposed endeavors, or else about the amount of fanmail he got. Once or twice the man had even attempted to engage Severus in conversation, and wasn't deterred by his snide comments. _Nothing _would put that man off.

What angered him, however, was that Lockhart would dare think that Vesperra was 'lashing out for attention' because she 'didn't look like she'd have any friends.' She didn't want attention at all—she hated attention! And she had a friend… she had him. But—_How _dare_ he touch her?_ Severus hated the idea of that bastard's hands on her… even if it was just on her shoulder. He wasn't sure why it made him so angry, but he figured it had something to do with the fact that Vesperra hated being touched by anyone, especially people she hated. Although, she didn't mind hugging_ him_ or holding_ his_ hand at all…

Still, her actions surprised him as well.

"And _what_, exactly, possessed you to do that?" he asked.

"I wasn't just going to let him get away with that!" said Vesperra defiantly. "He—I have more pride than that, Severus."

"Get away with what, exactly?"

"Being—being that self-centered! He can't give us a test like that—there's got to be _some_ rule against it. And, besides… I wanted to see one flicker of doubt on his face, just _one_ bit of fear in his eyes, or _at least_ an offended look."

"What a Gryffindor move…" said Severus, noting how bold she had been in saying those things to Lockhart. It sounded like the sort of thing Lily would do.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, throwing him a sharp look.

"Only that it was reckless and borne out of pride, and you obviously didn't think about the consequences when you did it… Now that I think of it, you would make a good Gryffindor."

"I could _never_ be a Gryffindor." Vesperra knew he was teasing, but she took that as a personal insult. She glared at him for a couple seconds before purposely looking away, not focusing on him.

Severus would have continued teasing her if it didn't make her so angry. She was quite fiery and vicious when she was angry… much like Lily. On second thought, maybe he ought to make her angrier.

But before he could make the decision whether or not to, there was a knock on his office door. _Who would need me this early on a Saturday?_ he wondered, standing up to get the door. Vesperra started as well, staring at the door with all her previous frustration erased from her face. Oh—he forgot. Whoever was beyond the door could not know that Vesperra was with him.

Turning to her, he put a finger to his lips to say that she needed to be quiet, and led her to the ingredients storeroom. He mouthed the words "I'm sorry," and shut the door on her.

Vesperra knew, by his sincerely apologetic look, that he really hated to hide her, as it might seem that he was ashamed of her. But it was pretty stupid for him to think that, she figured, because she probably wanted anyone to discover their relationship even less than he did. If the person knocking were anyone but Dumbledore, who knows what they would do once they'd seen her? Spread rumors, no doubt.

She pressed an ear to the storeroom door, making sure not to give away that anyone was in there.

When he opened his office door, Severus saw Marcus Flint and Draco Malfoy on the other side. Raising an eyebrow, he folded his arms and waited for them to state their purpose for bothering him.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," said Flint, smiling in an attempt to look friendly, but it failed as his grey eyes were shifty as ever. "Draco here is our new Seeker—for the Slytherin Quidditch team—and since he doesn't have much experience other than flying, we need to start training him straightaway. And we wondered if we could have your permission to use the field today, sir, because the Gryffindor team's already booked it."

Severus already knew of the new addition to the Slytherin team, as Vesperra had told him, but he raised his brow and pursed his lips as if it came as a surprise—he couldn't give away that anyone had told him. He looked down at Malfoy, who seemed uninterested in what Flint was saying and instead was craning his neck to look past Severus and into his office.

"Looking for something, Malfoy?" Severus said silkily, causing the boy's head to jerk upward to him. There was a brief flash in his eye that told Severus that he felt he had been caught in doing something he shouldn't have.

"Er—no, sir. I just thought I heard someone else in the room with you…" said Malfoy with feigned innocence.

"It appears that you were wrong, though, weren't you?" he said, narrowing his eyes and turning back to Flint. "Now, you would like permission to use the field when the Gryffindor team has already rightfully booked it?" Flint's eyes held a flicker of disappointment until Severus continued, "Of course. Step into my office and excuse me a moment." And the mischievous smiles reappeared in the boys' faces.

He strode to his desk, cut a short length of parchment, pulled out a quill, and wrote:

_I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing the need to train their new Seeker._

Then he signed and dated it, and handed it to Flint. "Be sure to train him well enough that we _win_ this time." As much as he knew Vesperra hated that Malfoy was on the team, he couldn't help but feel justified. This would be extra punishment for Potter—keeping him from practicing, and giving him the shock of having Malfoy as an enemy in Quidditch as well.

"Of course, Professor," said Flint, dragging Malfoy by the arm out of the room, who had been standing near the door to Severus's ingredient storeroom, still looking around, apparently intent on finding someone else there. His office door slammed shut, and he waited a few seconds before letting Vesperra out.

When he opened the door, she practically fell out, as she had been leaning against the door—but he caught her. "Malfoy heard me right before they knocked!" she said, steadying herself and straightening her robes.

"I know. He shouldn't have been able to recognize your voice, though, because my door is thick enough to muffle sound."

"But I know he _suspected_ it was me… Otherwise he wouldn't have cared."

"Alright then, we'll just have to be more careful. I'll put an Imperturbable Charm on the door whenever you're here."

And as he went to do just that, Vesperra said, "You're an extremely private man—why don't you _already_ have an Imperturbable Charm on your door?"

He held up a hand to tell her to wait a moment, and he finished the complex wand movement he was doing. A tiny ball of red light emerged from the wand tip and floated towards the door. The light spread through the wood of the door from the middle, and it flashed red before looking completely normal again.

When Severus turned back to her, she was looking at him with an expression of admiration for his advanced spellwork. He decided that he liked that look in her—it was a look he had often been determined to get out of Lily when they were children… He had so hated her looking at him with pity and worry when she saw his bruises and scars from his beatings. He had wanted her to like him for his talent, not because she felt sorry for him.

"I don't make much noise in here, so I had no need for an Imperturbable Charm," said Severus, stuffing his wand back in his sleeve. "There's normally nothing to overhear, and no student in their right mind would attempt to eavesdrop on me in the first place."

"I suppose not." Vesperra sighed, and the two returned to Severus's couch. While staring up at the ceiling, she had an idea. "We should have a secret knock."

"What?"

"You know, so you know it's me before you open the door. Then you'd know whether you can keep your casual expression or if you have to put on your stiff 'Potions Master' face… or if you have to hide anything you don't want anyone but me to see."

Smirking in a playfully dangerous way, Severus inclined his head a bit towards her and said slowly, "'Stiff Potions Master face'?"

"Yeah… you know, this one." She then furrowed her brow, slightly flared her nostrils, and curled her lips into a sneer. After a moment, her face returned to normal and she smirked as Severus stifled a laugh. "But don't you think we should have a knock?"

"It couldn't hurt…" he said, standing up and walking over to his desk. "How about—" He rapped his knuckles on his desk in the first rhythm that came to mind. It was part of an old Muggle song that Lily had liked… He never really thought about it, and hadn't even recognized it as a piece of that song until after he did the knock, but he was pretty sure it was called 'Let it Be.' Severus didn't want a reminder of that song every time Vesperra knocked on his door, so he hoped she'd suggest something else, but—

"That's perfect," said Vesperra, walking up to stand next to him. "It's sort of complex, but not so much that I can't remember it. Do it again?"

He did the same knock again, really wishing he never did it in the first place. "Are you sure it's not too long?" he asked casually. _Please say yes…_

"Nah, it's fine." And she copied the knock a couple times to remember it.

_Dammit._ He'd just have to get used to it, because he couldn't tell her that he didn't want to use it without telling her _why_… especially since he suggested it in the first place. But, perhaps now was the time to tell her. Neither of them had anything better to do than spend the day together, and this was the scenario in which he had planned to tell her about Lily, if he ever told her.

Vesperra looked satisfied with their 'secret knock' and tugged on his arm to return to the couch with her. As they sat down, Severus's face hardened—he was seriously contemplating telling her.

"Vesperra?"

"Yeah?" She turned her head toward him and her eyes flashed in a way that stopped him. He couldn't… he just couldn't.

Hesitating for a moment, he thought of something else to say. "Didn't you want me to teach you the spell that I used on you and the other first years on your first day?"

Her eyes lit up at that, and her hand automatically went for his. "You mean you'll teach me now?"

"Why not? We have time now."

Vesperra squeezed his hand tighter before letting go and reaching inside her left sleeve for her wand. Severus could see just how eager she was by the glint in her eyes. Not wanting to deny her what she wanted to learn, he went straight ahead and started.

"Alright, then… the incantation is '_Sonorego_.'"

"'_Sonorego_'—got it."

"And the wand movement is—" He pulled out his own wand to demonstrate. "It starts out pointing a bit lower and left of your target, then you bring it down—right—and back up to your target in sort of a small half-circle."

Vesperra nodded and attempted to do the same with her wand, aiming at nothing in particular. She looked to him for feedback, and he was frowning slightly.

"You need to twist your wrist just a bit more, and your elbow needs to stay still."

She tried it a couple more times, but felt that she wasn't getting the movement perfect. Severus then grabbed her elbow with his left hand and took her wand hand in his right, then maneuvered it in the exact movement for her.

"Do it again?" said Vesperra as he began to move his hands away. It would be much easier to do once she got used to the feeling of her own hand doing it. And even though she had just been holding his hand a few minutes ago, it felt nice to have his hand guiding hers.

He obliged, and she was able to do it perfectly on her own the next few times. Vesperra then pulled her hand back to rub her wrist, because it was already aching like hell.

"That's another reason why I don't use it that often," Severus said, absentmindedly grabbing her hand and massaging her wrist. "It hurts after only a few times."

"I'm no stranger to pain—and it's just a little discomfort." she said curtly, but she couldn't bring herself to pull her hand away from him, and he didn't let go either. After a minute, he did stop rubbing his thumb over her wrist and let go.

"Don't try it for another few minutes," he advised. "But when you cast the spell, you have to focus on the area with your eyes and ears—it helps if you hold your breath. Try to imagine a circle around the people you're trying to listen in on, and block out everything that's not in that circle. Then imagine the circle enlarging."

Severus then watched as she seemed to be practicing doing what he had instructed her to do on something on the opposite wall. He could tell that she was doing that because of how her eyes were narrowed only slightly, and the way her pupils were dilated. As an extremely skilled Legilimens, he had learned to analyze and understand every facial expression or movement—no matter how subtle. It was the part of Legilimency that allowed you to correctly interpret your findings after you've seen their thoughts and memories, so he wasn't _technically_ using Legilimency on her.

And he had to admit, judging what she was feeling by her expression was never very easy with her. Either she didn't have a very wide range of emotions, or she was already very talented at hiding them. It was most likely both. And both of those traits meant that she would probably be very capable of learning Occlumency… Not everyone had the ability to do it. Potter, for one, obviously did not have the mind structure required… most Gryffindors didn't.

But _this_ wasn't difficult at all to understand on her, because it was something she was focusing on, rather than feeling.

"Wait—Severus," Vesperra said suddenly, looking away from the bedside table she had been focusing on. "How am I supposed to practice if it has to be done on a group of people?

"It doesn't necessarily have to be done on a _group_ of people… you could practice on me, and see if you can hear me muttering under my breath from across the room."

"Across the room? Your office isn't that big, Severus—"

"You have to start small, though. It becomes more difficult with distance."

Vesperra sighed. "Fine, then. Can we start?"

"If you want to." Severus walked over to the furthest corner of his office, and Vesperra stood in the one opposite from him. "Now, just do everything I told you—and aim is important. But I know you've an excellent aim, so it shouldn't be a problem. There'll be no light or air distortion or anything that would show that it's worked, so don't worry when nothing appears to have happened at first."

Nodding, Vesperra took a deep breath and pointed her wand, did the small half-circle with a twist of her wrist, blocked out all but a circle in her mind containing Severus's upper body, and said clearly, "_Sonorego_." At that, he appeared somewhat closer.

"Can you hear me?" Severus muttered as quietly as possible.

But it wasn't quiet to Vesperra, who heard it as if he was talking at a normal volume. It didn't yet sound like he was speaking right next to her, like she figured it should, though. And the sound was strangely obscured. She lowered her wand and ceased her focus, taking off the spell.

"Yes, but there was sort of a buzzing sound along with your voice." she told him.

"That happens. Just try a few more times, and take a break when your wrist starts to hurt."

For the next hour, she practiced. Vesperra got it clearer and clearer every time, until she could hear him perfectly.

"We should practice over longer distances now…" she said when satisfied with her ability to do the spell across his office.

"In the potions classroom? It should be large enough—"

"Or in the Room of Requirement. We haven't been in there for a while… and since it does whatever we want, it'll adjust its size every time I improve."

Severus couldn't help but notice how much she really wanted to learn this. There was the same manic gleam in her eye that she got whenever she worked on a potion with him. "Might I ask what exactly you're planning on doing with this?" he asked, somewhat suspicious.

"Nothing specific yet… But it just seems like something really useful to know, and you can never be too prepared," said Vesperra. "Severus, where did you learn this from?"

He wondered when she'd ask that. "I invented it." He paused to let the words sink in, and was pleased to see that look of admiration again.

"You've invented your own spell? When—and how?" Vesperra was thoroughly intrigued, as well as impressed. She knew Severus was an extremely talented wizard, but to _invent_ his own spell…

"Technically, it's a variation of _Sonorus_—so I didn't fully invent it. But I was around fourteen when I did. It took a lot of research, practicing, and failed attempts."

_Fourteen?_ Vesperra tried to imagine a fourteen year-old Severus, and nearly smiled. But that was unexpected and impressive, that he'd invented a spell when he was only fourteen. She figured it would have been some time after his graduation from Hogwarts. "So… why did you invent that particular spell?"

"I wanted a way to listen in on conversations," he remembered. "And I couldn't find a spell anywhere that would allow me to do so. So I decided to invent my own." That spell had been useful for spying on Potter and his friends, as well as other groups of students that routinely planned to hex him or talked about him. He had also used it for listening in on Lily and her Gryffindor friends, so he could hear what they said about him. And after she decided to stop talking to him, he had done that just to hear her voice.

"How long did it take?" asked Vesperra.

Before answering her, Severus threw her a sharp look. "You're not planning on trying to go and invent your own spells now, are you?"

"No," she lied. "I'm just curious. It's amazing that you've invented a spell, Severus. You're the youngest teacher here, but I doubt any of the others are as brilliant as you—except for Dumbledore, of course. But he's a bit mad." She meant everything after saying that she was merely curious, but she did, in fact, want to invent her own spell. She just didn't want him to know, because she was sure he'd think she was trying to invent a curse.

And she wasn't wrong. Severus automatically feared that she was getting evil ideas—after all, that _was_ why she wanted to learn Sonorego. She wanted to know it so she could spy on people in the future—most likely Malfoy—and there wasn't a doubt about it. The sole reason for all the spells he had created were for harming others—Sectumsempra, especially. Knowing her, she would want to invent some powerful curses. He wouldn't put it past her to do it… and he didn't doubt that she could do it. But he didn't want her to take the same path as him.

Still, though he didn't quite believe that she had no intention of trying to invent a spell (or curse), he smirked at her compliment, because she was one of the few that ever complimented him. Oh, he'd gotten compliments from Slytherins over the years, but he didn't care about any of them. They complimented him because they were trying to suck up to him, or because he favored them for being in his own house. But they'd never say anything like "I quite like your nose," or that he was brilliant.

"It took a few months to develop entirely," said Severus.

Vesperra hoped that she had been able to keep the eagerness out of her eyes at that. _A few months?_ She wondered how hard he had worked during those few months, but decided it best to change the subject. "That's not as long as you'd think it would take… But Severus, I think it's time for lunch."

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was. They agreed to meet back at the Room of Requirement afterwards, and left separately.

* * *

Like all the other meals had been so far that year, lunch was just awful, since Lockhart was there. He just never stopped talking… it almost made Severus wish that they had Quirrell back. But seeing Lockhart there reminded him of something that he ought to tell Dumbledore. Before leaving to the Room of Requirement, he pulled the Headmaster aside in the staffroom.

"Yes, Severus?" said Dumbledore brightly.

"Albus, are you aware of Lockhart's teaching methods?" Severus snapped.

"Does it involve handing out treats? Because I know you strive to cause unhappiness for the students, Severus, but he—"

"No, it doesn't," he hissed. "He has turned the class into a class about _him_. His first quiz—over fifty questions only about him. His favorite color, his life goals… That's not Defense Against the Dark Arts, Albus. You can't let him do that!"

"How my colleagues choose to run their class is their choice, Severus," said Dumbledore. "I do not question _your_ techniques, nor do I stop you from bullying the students." Severus scowled and prepared to retort, but Dumbledore continued. "Both you and I know that you only care about what Gilderoy does for two reasons—because you believe your judgment to be more valid than mine and that you deserve his position, and because Miss D'Monicas does not like the way he teaches."

Severus furrowed his brow. "How did—"

"Come now, you believed I would be oblivious? She shares the goings on of the students with you, and you tell her any news passed between the professors in here, isn't that correct? How else would you know about Gilderoy's quiz?"

It really didn't shock him that Dumbledore knew—he knew everything that went on in the castle, and was the only one to know of his and Vesperra's relationship. But that didn't change how annoying it was.

"And you don't mind that I tell her what goes on between the staff?" asked Severus. He wondered why Dumbledore had mentioned that in such a casual tone.

"Even if I did, it wouldn't mean a thing to you, Severus, would it? Now, I think Miss D'Monicas is growing impatient, waiting for you." And then he left Severus standing where he was, returning to his office.

_That old bat doesn't miss a thing…_ he thought, exiting the staffroom as well. _Why can't he just keep to himself?_

* * *

"Grease-perra, where were you this morning?"

Everyone stared at Malfoy, because it was unlike anyone, especially him, to care where Vesperra had been. Ever.

"None of your business, Malfoy," said Vesperra after swallowing a bite of her sandwich. She knew exactly what he was playing at, and was actually surprised that he hadn't let in any of the other Slytherins in on it yet. But she made sure to say it casually with a hint of confusion, so as to not make it seem that she had anything to hide.

"You never passed through the Common Room, we all know you burn in the sun—so you couldn't have been outside… and I don't think you left the dungeons, Grease-perra," said Malfoy.

No one but her seemed to know what he meant. Crabbe and Goyle looked as clueless as ever, Pansy and the other girls bore extremely confused expressions, and Blaise raised one eyebrow at Theodore, then back to Malfoy. Vesperra was scared on the inside, scared that he _had_ recognized her voice through Severus's door.

Before anyone could ask what the hell was going on or Malfoy could continue, Vesperra took one last swig of pumpkin juice, grabbed a sandwich, and left the Great Hall. She didn't dare glance at Severus on the way out.

As she made her way into the Entrance Hall and ate her sandwich, she wondered if Malfoy would be telling all the others what he suspected right now. If he was, then this would be yet even more evidence towards her and Severus having more than a teacher-student relationship, and they would all have yet another thing to taunt her about. Even worse, what if Malfoy wrote home and told his father? Lucius Malfoy was a school governor, so he could get Severus sacked if he wanted… _No, that's stupid, he wouldn't do that… They're old friends. He wouldn't do anything to Severus… and Malfoy wouldn't, either, would he? He likes Severus too, he wouldn't want him fired… But what if one of the other teachers found out?_

Vesperra slipped into one of her paranoid phases. The more she tried to think about it from an outsider's point of view, the more she realized that it would hardly seem appropriate for a teacher to be this close to a student. But Dumbledore didn't mind it, and even encouraged it… but he was insane, so that wouldn't matter to anyone else. _Severus isn't stupid enough to let any of the teachers find out, _she tried to assure herself as she climbed up the stairs to the seventh floor. _And Malfoy doesn't even have real proof…_

After just a few steps into a seventh floor corridor, Vesperra heard a voice out of nowhere. It was ice-cold, and chills ran down her spine as she stopped dead.

"_Let me tear… rip you…come… let me kill you… let me kill…_" As suddenly as it came, it was gone. Vesperra strained her ears to hear it again, but there was nothing. There was no one around her… Could it have been something invisible?

She couldn't say that it had scared her, but the hiss-like voice had certainly been startling. And she felt a burning curiosity as to who or what it was. Whatever it was, though, it was creepy, and it was obviously intent on killing someone…

Vesperra found the empty wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, just like it had been the year before, and walked past it three times, thinking of what she needed. It wasn't much—just a long room that became longer when she got better at that spell, and with a couch, too, just for comfort. When she stepped inside, it was a dungeon-like room, with torches hanging in brackets along the wall, which extended for a good fifty feet, at least. Smirking, she sat down on the couch in the middle of the opposite wall, and waited for Severus to show up.

* * *

"Why did you leave early?" Severus asked the moment he entered the Room and saw Vesperra.

"Because Malfoy knows," said Vesperra. "I think he really does know it was me in your office earlier." She relayed everything Malfoy had said at lunch, and how he must not have told anyone else. When she finished, Severus was stone-faced.

"Don't worry about it—we're being more careful now, remember? Merlin, he better not tell his father… Lucius'll be all over my arse, wanting to know why I made friends with someone who nearly killed his son—"

"About that—I don't think Malfoy ever actually told his dad. Otherwise, he'd have tried to get me expelled, wouldn't he?"

"Yes, he would have… Lucius has a lot of influence over the other school governors—well, he threatens to curse their families. My only question is why Draco wouldn't tell his father, knowing he could get you expelled."

Vesperra winced at Severus's use of Malfoy's first name, and hardly made an attempt to hide her sudden anger. She just hated that Severus was friends with Malfoy's family… Even though she knew he definitely wasn't as close to Lucius Malfoy as he was to her, it was just infuriating. And she couldn't deny that she was mad at Severus, however irrationally.

Severus noticed it, too, and it caught him off-guard. It was the same face he used to make whenever Lily mentioned James Potter in a non-hateful way, and even more so whenever she had used his first name. He automatically knew what was behind it—he had called the boy Draco, not Malfoy. As bad as he suddenly felt, he didn't know what to say to her. So he didn't say anything.

Trying to forget what she was angry about, Vesperra realized—she _did_ know why Malfoy didn't tell his father. Last year, he had gotten revenge by exploding a flask from the end of a corridor that she was in. If Dean Thomas hadn't happened upon her, she would have died of blood loss. Obviously, Malfoy had wanted to take matters into his own hands—he'd rather have actually killed her than get her expelled. And that's exactly what she had done to get revenge for _that_… Severus still had no idea that it was Malfoy who caused her to end up in the Hospital Wing that day, nor that she had been the one to break several of his bones with one curse and put _him_ in the Hospital Wing. She wasn't sure if she'd ever tell him about that.

So she just shrugged, and remembered something much more important (at the moment, at least). "Severus, on my way here, I heard a voice…" And she told him what she had heard, hoping for answers.

"Are you sure you didn't imagine it, Ves—?"

"Of course I didn't imagine it, Severus—I'm not mad!" The look in her eyes would have told him otherwise, but he kept that to himself.

"We'll only know whether you are or not if you hear it when I'm with you and I don't hear it too," said Severus, and he noticed Vesperra frown at him. Okay, so this wasn't the best time for teasing her. "Relax, I believe you—you're definitely not mad. But if whoever—or whatever—said that wants to kill… that's serious. Especially since they're invisible." The more he talked about it, the more ridiculous it seemed… He doubted that Vesperra only imagined it, but it just seemed so _unlikely_.

The sincerity in his voice was enough, and Vesperra was glad that he believed her—so much that she forgot that she was angry at him a few minutes earlier. "Well, we'll deal with that later. We came here to practice, so let's practice."

Until Severus decided that they ought to return to their respective sleeping quarters, Vesperra practiced the spell and the room gradually became larger to accommodate her growing skill. It was lots of focusing and discomfort on her part, but mostly just standing there or massaging her wrist on Severus's.

"You work yourself too hard, Vesperra," said Severus, not entirely frustrated with her. There was a hint of admiration in his voice.

"I know I do," Vesperra said, rubbing her very sore wrist. She knew it would hurt worse in the morning… but it was worth it. "But I'm a Slytherin, aren't I?"

"That you are…" He smirked. "But you haven't been very kind to your wrist today."

Vesperra held out her right arm in front of him, and said dryly, "Kiss it better, then." After a moment of feigned seriousness, they both smiled and exhaled to stifle laughs. When she began to pull her arm away, Severus grabbed it back towards him, though softly, and placed his lips on her wrist.

Severus wasn't one to act without thinking, and though it may have seemed that he just did that, he actually thought it out very thoroughly. Something in Vesperra's eyes, as serious as she tried to seem for the moment, had given away that she really did want him to 'kiss it better.' Then, he was sure that neither of her parents had ever 'kissed it better' before. Neither had his. And third—once, in his second year, Lily had told him that kisses have healing powers.

A tiny gasp forced itself out of her as he briefly kissed her wrist, and her own lips broke into a real smile. She had to admit, it was what she had hoped for, but never expected. It sent shivers down her arm that lasted much longer than the kiss did. Needless to say, her wrist felt fine—_better_ than fine, now.

He continued softly massaging her wrist in between his left thumb and forefinger, just to make sure.

"Better?" he asked, though it was completely unnecessary.

"Very much," said Vesperra truthfully, not caring, for the first time, what he'd think of it.

But Severus didn't think much of that, because he was too busy thinking, as they left the Room of Requirement, about just how many times Vesperra reminded him forcibly of Lily that day.

* * *

For the next couple weeks, Vesperra visited Severus only occasionally, as most of the potions they had worked on needed time to simmer, so there wasn't much to work on. Much of her free time was spent either with him or in the library, where she had been intent on research. However, she couldn't help but feel like it was time to give up on the dream-inducing potion.

Inventing a spell was one thing, but inventing a potion? That would surely take years… and she wasn't sure if she even cared about it anymore. She had originally wanted to be able to see him in her sleep, but she saw him all the time now. There was hardly any more need for the journals anymore with how often she visited him… She wasn't bereft of being able to see him, so it was selfish to want more…

Giving up on anything was not something Vesperra liked to do. She was a Slytherin, and Slytherins were never supposed to give up. They used any means to achieve their ends… But if the end she wanted to achieve was to see Severus as often as possible, she already had that. Perhaps, when she was older and out of school, she could attempt it. And perhaps Severus could help her. By then, she'd have no problem telling him the reason behind it… Vesperra mentally slapped herself for thinking like that, because he would never think of her like that.

With that gone, there was one other thing she needed to know—well, things. She needed to know about her mum's family. So throughout the third week of September, she searched the library for any books that would help.

It wasn't until Thursday that she found something important, and she had been hoping dearly for it after her day. Lockhart had been worse than usual, as the only thing he ever did in classes was read passages from his stupid books, and reenact some of the more dramatic bits. He had asked Vesperra to play the part of a vampire during that day's lesson—obviously, the rest of the class laughed, and she refused, not hiding her anger.

What she found, though, was enough that she forgot all about Lockhart. The few books she had found before has merely told her that the Lestranges were an old family, as she suspected, and one had family crests and mottos. The Lestrange crest held a lion and a unicorn, and the motto was "Momento mei," whatever that meant. But she actually managed to get her hands on a book that wasn't ancient—it was written only fifteen years ago. Not many books in the Hogwarts library were even relatively modern, so she could see why it had been checked out.

The book—_Wizarding Generations of the Twentieth Century_— extremely upheld the pureblood supremacy, though, because throughout the extensive family trees, it simply had an 'X' under blood traitor families instead of continuing their lineage on another page. In the very middle of the book was a double-spread page that folded out so as to not cut the family tree short for another page—and it was obvious why. It was literally the center of most of the Wizarding society in Britain, starting with the Black family.

Vesperra scanned the spread for the name 'Lestrange', and soon found what she was looking for. Near the bottom and somewhat left of the middle was the name _Cassandra Lestrange_. She was connected by double lines to an X, meaning she had married a Muggle. And this book, apparently, refused to even name Muggles. But there was another name next to her, and it could only be her sister—_Sapphira Lestrange_. The line leading to both of them came from _Rhys Lestrange_, who was connected with a double line _to Leona Clearwater_, who had _deceased_ written under it. Rhys seemed to be brothers with _Raxtus Lestrange_, as they too were linked by common parents. Under Raxtus were _Rabastan_ and _Rodolphus Lestrange_, and Rodolphus was connected by a double line to _Bellatrix Black_, who was near the very center of the family tree.

That must have made her important, Vesperra figured, so she continued along with Bellatrix. She had two sisters—_Andromeda_ and _Narcissa Black_, and Andromeda was also connected to an 'X' by marriage. Narcissa was connected to _Lucius Malfoy_…

For a moment, Vesperra just stared at the page. Her eyes focused on Lucius's name while her brain tried to process it. _Wait… no, we can't be that closely related… _She then looked back to her mother, and calculated it.

Her mother's father was brothers with the father of Rodolphus, which made her mother cousins with him… and she'd be cousins in-law with Bellatrix, whose sister was married to Malfoy's father… That made her and Draco Malfoy cousins, separated by only three people.

Suddenly, Vesperra felt disgusted. She felt nauseous, knowing that she was directly related to _Malfoy_. Sure, all non-Muggleborns were related somehow, but this was close. If they had been born yet when the book was published, she'd have been able to draw a straight line connecting their names. And it wouldn't have been a long line.

Wishing she had never found that book, she folded the large spread back into it and shut it quickly, returning it to its place on the shelf. She then left the library at once, deciding that she learned enough for one day.

This troubled her throughout dinner and while she spoke to Severus through the journals that night. She wondered if he knew… he probably didn't. It wasn't likely that many people did… but since Malfoy's aunt was a Lestrange, would he know? Would he even know that she was a Lestrange? Being pureblood was important to his family, so Lucius Malfoy might have gone to any lengths to know whether anyone he was related to had married a Muggle… and if he had done that and told his son, might that be a contributing factor for Malfoy's hatred towards her? But his father didn't seem to mind her half as much as he did when she had met them in Knockturn Alley… Was it possible that Lucius knew, and respected her for her Lestrange side, but hadn't told his son?

Whatever the answer, she didn't want to know. And she sure as hell wasn't going to ask Malfoy, anyway. In fact, she decided that she didn't even want to tell Severus. She didn't want him to question why she cared about her mother's side all of a sudden, and it was really just something she didn't want to talk about. Vesperra couldn't even look at Malfoy when they were in close proximity now, as she had the urge to vomit when she did.

The next day, she returned to the library somewhat calmed down about the whole thing. As sickening as it was that they had the same blood running through their veins, the fact that she and Malfoy were cousins was never going to change. In spite of herself, she found the same book again, and flipped through it. There had been something she had been thinking about the night before, when she had begun studying her book of poisons to get her mind off things.

After nearly half an hour of searching, she found the Prince line. Like the Lestranges, they too seemed to be an old Wizarding family. And there it was, near the bottom of the page. _Severus Prince_. Under him was _Aderan_ _Prince_, evidently his son, along with two girls that never married, so they weren't important to Vesperra. Then under Aderan was _Maureen Prince_, who married someone with the name O'Doherty, and _Eileen Prince_, who was connected by a double line to an X. It ended there. Vesperra didn't give up, but traced her finger along the page back to _Severus Prince_, and upward more. She followed all branches of the Prince family, but never came to anyone with the name Snape. But then, she realized that if the name 'Snape' came from Severus's Muggle side, it wouldn't be on there. If he was even related to the Princes, that is.

_So much for that,_ thought Vesperra as she returned the book to the shelf yet again. Now, the only thing to do was find out whether or not the Lestrange family had _done_ anything to become so influential. Above all, that's what she wanted to know. Vesperra doubted that they were simply wealthy, and that that was it. The shop owners in Knockturn Alley had practically bowed at her feet when they saw her ring, and the only things that could trigger that sort of respect was fear and pride. Considering the fact that all those shops were dedicated to the Dark Arts, she guessed fear. No one in Diagon Alley had reacted the same way… so it had to be something to do with the Dark Arts.

Vesperra had no permission to be in the Restricted Section, so that would definitely limit her research… but there were still practical books… The only trouble was, she didn't know what the nature of the books she should be looking for was. If a Lestrange had been famous for inventing a curse, she wouldn't be able to find that… But perhaps the family was well-known for being skilled in the Dark Arts. Maybe they hadn't even gone to Hogwarts… Or they might have been involved in some huge Dark Arts movement…

So she searched multiple parts of the library, and came up with a pile of books that she carried with her to a nearby table. _Notable Contributors to Ancient Magic_ didn't give her anything, and she was somewhat disappointed—she'd have liked to say that she was related to genius inventors. The next few books were useless as well, but the next one she picked up looked promising. It was _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_.

Vesperra read it through, sure that she was bound to find something if she looked hard enough. She didn't want to miss a single word, in case it held the answers. It was actually very interesting, giving a chronology of all the major events in the past couple centuries having to do with the Dark Arts. The Lestranges didn't seem to have anything to do with Grindelwald's rise to power or any of his Muggle killings… And then the second half was mainly about Lord Voldemort, at which things got much more interesting.

She eventually came upon the chapter about Voldemort gaining followers, which included a passage that shocked her even more than the discovery of being Malfoy's cousin.

_Undoubtedly the most dedicated of all the Death Eaters were Rodolphus Lestrange, his wife Bellatrix, and his brother Rabastan. The three murdered and tortured countless witches, wizards, and Muggles alike, but the majority of their victims were tortured mercilessly rather than killed. Many Aurors have been killed on their account, and they had managed to avoid capture by the Ministry for years. After the Dark Lord was mysteriously defeated by failing to kill Harry Potter, the Lestrange trio remained at large, and continued searching for him, torturing people for information on his whereabouts. Unlike many other Death Eaters, who claimed to have been controlled by the Imperius Curse, they happily admitted their loyalty to Voldemort before being carted off to Azkaban along with Bartemius Crouch Jr. for a life sentence. _

Vesperra didn't know what to think. In retrospect, it now made a lot of sense why Mr. Borgin acted that way—he saw her ring, knew she was a Lestrange, and must have thought she'd curse him. Or torture him, like Bellatrix would have. The one thing that was suddenly very clear was… she came from a family of murderers. And more importantly, Death Eaters. It wasn't as if she didn't think herself capable of killing, as she often fantasized about doing so to Malfoy (and now Lockhart), but her family was _famous_ for that. Should she be proud that her name was one to be feared?

But it was difficult to believe it was true. Voldemort's most loyal followers… were her cousins. Well, second cousins, but they were family… And then, Vesperra realized—Severus knew. Back when she had first told him about her mother's maiden name, he said he had known her cousins. He must have meant Rodolphus and Rabastan… And even if he hadn't known them personally, it would have been likely that he knew, as most adults would. She also remembered that he had had a look of controlled surprise, as if it shocked him, but he didn't want her to know.

He didn't want her to know. Severus had known, but never told her. _How could he not tell me something like this? _thought Vesperra, angry that he would keep this from her. At once, Vesperra marked the page of the book by dog-earing it, shut it, and swept herself out of the library.

* * *

Since Vesperra had told him about the voice she had heard, Severus made sure to strain his ears whenever he sulked down the corridors, but he never heard anything of the sort. It was strange, especially since she hadn't heard it again either. The circumstances considered, though, he was glad she hadn't heard it again.

According to what McGonagall had said in the staffroom, Weasley ended up having his detention with Filch, cleaning the Trophy Room the Muggle way, and Potter had his detention helping Lockhart with his fanmail. A night with Lockhart would be the ultimate torture for Vesperra, but he and Potter were one in the same. Severus was sure the boy enjoyed it, and wished that he'd been allowed to delegate his punishment.

But Lockhart went on about how he didn't think Potter deserved punishment, because "he'd only done it for attention," and "there was nothing wrong with wanting attention." When he had said that, Severus remembered that Lockhart had said the same thing to Vesperra, and "accidentally" spilled boiling hot coffee on him.

The rest of September passed by too quickly for him, though his nights brewing with Vesperra became sparser. Still, they made sure to spend time on the weekends together. After the antidote for the Vomiting poison had finished its two-week simmer and they added the last few ingredients, everything would be done… but there'd still be the journals, and weekends, of course.

On the Friday that it was supposed to be done simmering, Severus sat in his office, grading first years' essays. He was in the middle of writing an extremely harsh comment on a Hufflepuff's when there was a knock at his door—his and Vesperra's secret knock. But it was an hour before he had expected her to come… was something wrong? Confused, he made to the door and opened it.

* * *

When he did, Vesperra pushed past him aggressively without saying anything, and stopped in the middle of his office, looking vicious and clutching a book in her hand. Severus closed the door, and immediately placed an Imperturbable Charm over it. He then turned to her, where she was glaring at him, obviously angry. Before he could ask what had brought this on, she opened the book to a page and threw it at him.

Luckily, he caught it before it hit him in the chest. Severus gave her a questioning look. If anyone else had thrown _anything_ at him, he would have expelled them. But with her, he just wanted to know the reason behind her behavior, and why she was suddenly so angry with him.

"Read it," snarled Vesperra, stepping forward. She pulled the book down from his hands, found the passage she had read earlier, and pointed to it, handing the book back to him. "Read that."

With one last glance at her, he turned the book over to its cover, marking the page with his thumb. It was _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. Then, he began reading the passage she had pointed to.

Vesperra watched as his expression gradually turned to realization, and then dread. After a few minutes, he slowly closed the book and set it down on his desk.

"Vesperra… I'm so sorry, I should have told you, I—"

"Then why didn't you?" said Vesperra, raising her voice. She knew the kind of answer she was going to get, but she wanted to hear him say it to her face. "You're a smart man, Severus—didn't you think I'd eventually find out for myself one day? You knew it then, so why didn't you tell me?"

She was right… he had known that she'd eventually find out for herself. And he _knew _that she'd be angry with him… That was a really immature thing for him to do, even with his other reasons. "Because I _couldn't_, Vesperra…" he said in the most apologetic tone possible, kneeling down and grasping her arm. "How do you tell a little girl that her cousins murdered hundreds of people? Tell me, Vesperra, how _you_ would tell her that she's practically related to the Dark Lord himself?" Now _he_ was angry, and he couldn't help it. Even though she had every right to be yelling at and throwing books at him, he needed to make her understand…

"I am _not_ a little girl, Severus!" she yelled, jerking her arm away from him. Any other time, and she'd be extremely happy to have him hold her arm, but she was furious with him right now. "You know I'm perfectly capable of handling things—"

"But you _were_ a little girl then! I had only known you a few months… And I definitely would not have picked that time to tell you. We were having a casual conversation—how could I have slipped in 'Yes, I knew the Lestranges, they were Death Eaters'?"

"Alright, fine, I understand that. But you could have told me later, after you knew that I was mature enough! What about last Christmas? You put the ring on my finger _yourself_—" She held up her left hand and pointed at the ring for emphasis. "—and still didn't say anything! Why not then? Or at the end of the year? Or during the summer? How could you keep something like this from me, Severus?"

This was starting to remind him of when she had confronted him about his limp—except then, Vesperra had been worried for him. Now, she was just plain angry… possibly angry enough to hurt him. There was a mad look in her eye, completely unlike the glint he saw in there when she got a potion perfect. It was murderous. Her hair was disheveled, and she was breathing loudly.

He was silent for a few seconds, unsure how to answer her. Severus was never very good with apologies… and that very thing had ruined his life. He hadn't been able to control his humiliation and anger on that day after the Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., and he hadn't been able to explain to Lily why he really was sorry for calling her Mudblood, and why she _was_, in fact, different. It would have only taken three words… But he couldn't say it. And now, his mind raced, trying to find the right words, as he had long known the consequences of saying the wrong thing…

A few seconds were too long for Vesperra. He didn't seem able to answer, and she didn't think she'd be able to control her temper, so she went for the door. She had her hand on the knob when Severus's hand closed around her forearm and pulled her back.

"Don't leave, Vesperra, please…" said Severus. He refused to allow her to walk away, because he feared that she'd never come back. He would _not_ let that happen to him again… he had to make this better… But his temper got the better of him. "You know I didn't want to keep that from you—I hated to! But don't pretend that you've never kept anything from me, because I know you've plenty of secrets! And sometimes, because of those things, I have to keep things from you, too. Vesperra, I _know_ you like Dark magic—I know you learned a lot of curses from that book you got from the Restricted Section last year! That's why you were looking in _this_ book, wasn't it?" He picked up the library book from his desk and, despite his usual respect for books, he threw it on the floor.

"So you thought once I knew that my second cousins were You-Know-Who's favorite Death Eaters, I'd aspire to be like them?" hissed Vesperra venomously. "You thought that after you and I spent all last year trying to _stop_ the guy that had You-Know-Who on the back of his head, I'd want to go find his maimed soul—or whatever it is—and bring him _back_? You thought that once he comes back, like Dumbledore said he will, I'd want to become a Death Eater? Yes, I find some Dark magic interesting—I wouldn't be a Slytherin if I didn't, would I? But you know me, Severus, and I'm not stupid! I'm not a follower, either—if anything, I'd _become_ a Dark Lord, but—"

The look on his face kept her from continuing. It was undisguised fear and disgust, as well as a fury that she never thought she'd see in him.

"What?" he asked quietly, barely moving his lips. Severus narrowed his eyes slightly, and stared intensely at her.

"I didn't mean that, Severus." He said nothing. "I—I wouldn't—you know I wouldn't do that… I'm not a mindless killer, Severus… I would never try to be like You-Know-Who, I just said that… If I ever even killed someone, it would have to be for revenge, like if someone killed _you_… But apparently, you _did_ think that I'd want to—"

"No, I didn't," said Severus. "But if anyone ever does kill me, I won't mind if you kill them." All the air escaped his lungs when she had said she'd become a Dark Lord… For a fleeting moment, he truly believed that she _was_ evil, and that the fact she had been so willing to help stop Quirrell was simply out of loyalty to him. For that moment, he realized how Lily must have felt when he so obviously aspired to be a Death Eater, and whenever she saw him using very Dark magic. But Vesperra couldn't be evil, just like he never truly was. She was angry, and it just slipped out. He knew from experience how things could just slip out.

"I still don't like that you never told me, Severus." Vesperra was relieved that Severus no longer had that look on his face, and that he was still speaking to her. But that didn't change that she was angry at him. She merely decided that she ought to stop yelling.

"And I'm still very sorry," he said, motioning for her to sit down on his couch with him. He wanted to apologize properly to her, and he felt it would be easier once they'd sat down. "I admit, yes, I _was_ afraid that you might want to be a Death Eater once he returned. People often like to follow in their family's footsteps—whether they feel it's a duty or an honor… And you seemed just the type, Vesperra. You were brilliant with magic—including curses, hated people, liked the idea of violent revenge… But I realize that it was stupid of me to think that you'd support the Dark Lord after everything that happened with Quirrell. And it was stupid to believe that you'd ever fancy the idea of killing people just because they were in your way… Sometimes, Vesperra, I _can_ be very stupid."

"Yes, you can… But, I think I understand," said Vesperra. "I do seem the type, don't I? I'm sorry I got so angry at you."

Severus wondered if she'd ask whether or not he was ever a Death Eater, and part of him hoped so. He had hinted to it as he had listed her Death Eater-like traits, which he obviously shared. But she would never want to see him in that light, so she would never ask… And he wished he had the courage to tell her that outright. Even after all they had gone through because of one thing he shouldn't have waited to tell her, he still couldn't say it. That secret was right up there with Lily, and he knew that if he ever told her, it would be years from now.

"You had every right to be angry with me," he said. "You still do. And you're usually stubborn, so I'm surprised that you aren't."

"I don't like being angry at you, Severus. We're both stubborn. If we both kept it up, we'd never have spoken to each other again. But next time we get into a fight like this, it's your turn to be the mature one."

"I'd like to think there won't ever be a next time, but seeing as we're both so stubborn, there's bound to be."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. And, Severus… I also found out that Malfoy's my cousin—from a book of family trees. Bellatrix was his aunt. You knew that too, didn't you?" Solemnly, he nodded, still sorry. "Well, I honestly don't blame you for not telling me. I'd rather have not known that." She managed a grim smile, coaxing a smirk out of him as well. "Also, do you know who Severus Prince is? I found his name in the book, and wondered if he had anything to do with you."

He had not expected that in the very least. In fact, he almost forgot that he belonged to a Wizarding family just as old and powerful as the Lestranges. But he found no reason not to tell her, so he did. "He was my great-grandfather… my mother was Eileen Prince. You found her name in the book as well, didn't you?" Vesperra nodded. "Well, she was disowned from the family after she married a Muggle—Tobias Snape. She decided to name me after her grandfather because, apparently, I looked a lot like him. And it's fitting that she would, because he was very famous in the Potions community."

"What about your middle name?" said Vesperra.

"What about it?"

"Well, you just mentioned how you were named after your great-grandfather, and I just realized that I've never known your middle name…" It was a piece of information that really didn't matter, but she was curious.

"Oh—it's Tobias, after my father. And yours?"

"Leona. And I've only discovered this today, but it's after my grandmother on my mum's side. According to the book, she died long before I was born."

This would have seemed like the appropriate place to say "I'm sorry," but Severus knew that she didn't give a damn about her deceased grandmother. It would have been highly unlike her, as she was a highly uncompassionate person. Instead, he glanced at the clock, and saw that it was nearly eight.

"It's good thing we worked all of this out, because we've made perfect timing."

Vesperra followed his eyes to the clock and immediately understood. "I don't have my gloves—I'll go to my dorm and get them—"

"That isn't necessary; we aren't working with a corrosive potion. Just in case, you can use mine." Severus summoned his own dragon hide gloves, and shrunk them down to fit her small hands.

"But what about you?"

"I needn't use anything—my hands are calloused enough."

And for that night, he gladly used nothing so long as her soft hands remained undamaged.

* * *

**And the plot thickens... Well, that was a bad fight, but I think we're all glad they've gotten it over with.**

**But I've opened up plenty more theories for you to discuss, haven't I? What's Draco going to do about Vesperra and Severus? What use is Vesperra going to find for that spell? And will she try to invent one of her own? **

**Please leave a review and tell me about your theories! Or just tell me what you thought of this chapter... I'm happy with either!**

**In the next chapter: Halloween, The Chamber of Secrets**


	20. Book 2: Chapter 6

**This should be a really pivotal chapter. Some theories will be confirmed and denied, some will be created. And I've never said this before because it should be obvious, but I'm not J.K. Rowling, and I don't own anything. I'm just saying that so no one reads the scenes in here that are directly from the book and tries to sue me. Now, read and enjoy!**

* * *

"The main focus of this term will be Transformation Potions—concoctions that affect the outward appearance of the body and, in some cases, the interior. As these do not heal or alter one's mind, many of you will not find them of importance. Many of you will prefer to use charms for such effects, but should you wish to pass my class this year, you will comply and brew each to my standards."

Severus stood before the second year Gryffindors and Slytherins with his arms folded over his chest, lecturing them before they were to start that day's potion. As usual, his voice was able to keep the entire class silent very easily, but his words warranted the attention of less than half of them. Hermione Granger sat in the fourth row, raising her hand straight up, eyes bulging and obviously was burning to ask a question. He ignored her. Next to her were Potter and Weasley, who were looking at him, but he doubted they were listening as well. A decent number of Slytherins paid him rapt attention, and Vesperra, who sat alone at the table closest to him, tried not to appear obvious, but was hanging onto his every word. His eyes held a brief flicker of warmth when he glanced at her, and he continued.

"It would be, however, unrealistic to expect such from Longbottom, who has yet to produce anything halfway decent in my class." This elicited sniggers from most of the Slytherins, a nasty smirk from Vesperra, and glares from the Gryffindors. Longbottom's round face flushed pink and he tried to sink down in his stool. "Transformation Potions range greatly in difficulty. The simple ones that we will cover this year should provide sufficient practice for your later years, which will prove much more difficult. Those will be essential to learn, as the more advanced potions have effects that cannot be attained by any spell, such as the Polyjuice Potion, which, if brewed correctly, will fully and temporarily transform you into another person. There are charms that can alter one's skin, hair, limbs, and whatever else in order to become unrecognizable, but it is close to impossible to perfectly imitate another's appearance without the Polyjuice Potion. Still, many skilled wizards choose not to attempt it, as the consequences would be disastrous if the slightest mistake is made. Only in your seventh year will any of you be permitted to brew it, and only if you prove worthy of taking my N.E.W.T. classes. It can only be found in a book called _Moste Potente Potions_."

Once finished with his lecture, he assigned them a Hair-Growth potion for the remaining hour, which should be enough time for them all to reach the point at which they could take it off the fire for the week until their next lesson. At her table, Vesperra took notes on the ingredients and instructions, as well as the few verbal instructions Severus had given them. She had also written down everything he said about Polyjuice Potion, feeling that it would likely be useful to know someday.

October had brought the seasonal rain to Hogwarts, as well as a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. The majority of students affected by it were Slytherins, as they spent more time in the dungeons—the coldest part of the castle. While most of those hit by the cold had immediately gone to Madam Pomfrey right away, Vesperra ignored it, as it was merely a cold. She was _perfectly_ fine, and she didn't need any stupid Pepperup Potion… That would be admitting she needed help, and then taking it. She didn't take help.

Severus noticed, in his walk around the dungeon, that Vesperra was routinely wiping her nose on her sleeve, though she did so absentmindedly as she worked. For the past couple weeks, she had seemed a bit under the weather, along with many other students and teachers. She often had sneeze attacks when she visited him in his office, and was usually shivering a lot. Having gone on for two weeks without her helping it, it had only gotten worse.

Feeling a sneeze coming on, Vesperra quickly turned her head to the left, since she couldn't allow it to get in her potion. It wouldn't have been very smart to cover her nose with her hands, since she was holding a knife at the time. As she opened her slightly watering eyes post-sneeze, she didn't automatically resume focusing on her cauldron, because she was suddenly staring at black robes. The groin area of the robes, to be exact.

Vesperra wiped her nose and eyes at once, then raised her head to look at Severus's face. His expression was mainly impassive, though there was a hint of annoyance and the general air of surprise. She _had_ just sneezed on him, after all.

It was lucky that Severus was quick to stop the moment her head turned left and down, or else she might have accidentally head-butted him in the stomach. Or worse, five inches lower. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were sitting in the nearest table, were wide-eyed and gaping, but slowly began smiling. They were clearly hopeful for any Slytherin—especially her—to be on the receiving end of his wrath. The same went for Thomas and Finnigan, who were stifling laughter, and Malfoy, who was smirking along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Sorry, S—professor," said Vesperra, trying hard to use a respectful tone, rather than a casual one. She remembered the days when she'd have been genuinely scared to have accidentally sneezed on him, but now she knew that he wouldn't even be angry with her, let alone punish her—especially since it was only an accident. But she had nearly called him Severus in class… and that was the second time she had to catch herself since the beginning of term.

"Stay behind after class, Miss D'Monicas," he said calmly. There was then an audible gasp among the other students, most of whom had stopped working altogether to watch him and Vesperra. There was no question why—even for those who were hopelessly unobservant and hadn't the slightest idea that Severus had a preference for her, it was a shock to see him punish any Slytherin. But they didn't know that he had absolutely no intention of punishing her.

He threw them all a glare, and they hastily looked away and focused once again on their cauldrons. Still standing next to Vesperra, he pointed his wand at his robes and cleaned off all the moisture that had traveled from her sneeze.

Surreptitiously giving him a sorry look before he walked away, she resumed slicing wolfberry leaves. Vesperra didn't know whether what he did was a good or a bad thing. On one hand, the other Slytherins might rethink their suspicions after seeing that he didn't give her any special treatment, but it was just as likely that they'd taunt her about how he actually punished her. But that was the thing—he wasn't going to. He was just making it look like he was.

Whatever would happen, it couldn't be worse than anything else she endured, so she was grateful for Severus's intentions, at least. When the potion had simmered for ten minutes, Vesperra put out the fire under her cauldron with her wand and carried it over to the table where it would sit for a week, and washed her hands. As she walked back to her table, Pansy and her friends smiled unpleasantly in her direction. Rather than being angry that she was one of the first finished, they seemed to be excited for her "punishment…"

While they left after the bell rang, the rest of the students passed her table, where she still sat, and most of them made sure to give her a malicious look. In no time, the last one had left, and Severus went to shut the large doors. He then strode towards her, looking somewhat frustrated.

"If you won't go to Madam Pomfrey yourself, take this for me," said Severus, handing her a bottle. He had fetched it from his office during class.

One look at it, and Vesperra knew it was Pepperup Potion. "Severus, I'm fine. I'm not sick. I don't need any—"

"You sneezed on me!" Ugh, it was always the same thing… She'd say "I'm fine" when she obviously wasn't. She could be bleeding to death on the ground, and still wouldn't take any help. "You've _been_ sick for the past two weeks. Don't you _want_ to feel better?"

"It's not as if I'm not used to it," said Vesperra.

"Take it." Severus held the bottle closer to her, but she just glared at it defiantly. "I swear, if you don't take it, I'll force your mouth open and pour it down your throat myself."

Vesperra looked at him uncertainly, not sure whether he was serious or not. She had a fleeting thought of him holding her by the neck, and pinching lightly on the sides of her law to make it open involuntarily, then holding the bottle to her mouth… Part of her was scared at the thought and, though she was sure he'd never actually do such a thing, another part wanted him to do that. She mentally slapped herself, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

Breathing a sigh of defeat, she took the bottle from him, and took a gulp. There was a warm sensation in her throat, though not too warm, and it spread down her torso and into her head. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but it was odd—she could feel the warmness fill her nasal cavity, her eyes, and deep inside her ears… Then, smoke began streaming out of her ears.

"Happy?"

"Yes, I am," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and offering her a smirk. "Now, the others expect you to have detention. I expect they will ask, and you can tell them that you will be helping me inventory my private stores tomorrow night. It won't be a lie."

"But they'd know that that wouldn't even be a punishment for me," argued Vesperra. "They all know I'd enjoy it…"

"But they don't know that_ I _know that. For all they know, the only thing I know about you is that you're skilled in potions. They can't prove anything else. It should seem to them that I'm putting you through the boring work of writing things down and copying labels, all the while doing my job more efficiently by having the help of someone I can trust to do it correctly."

As she thought about it, he made a lot of sense. She could still see one flaw, though—that would be another thing for them to talk about. They already thought she fancied him, and now they'd know that she and Severus would be spending a couple hours together in limited space. But it wouldn't matter, because they already taunted her about that nearly every night. It couldn't possibly get any worse, and she'd just ignore it as usual. Besides, she didn't want to tell Severus that the other Slytherins suspected the same as that Lovegood girl.

"Alright, then," said Vesperra. She slid off her stool and slung her bag over her shoulder, then walked around the table to face him standing. "Talk to you tonight, Severus… Are you going to lunch today?" she added casually.

"Actually, I'm not. I'll be busy through lunch." He indicated a stack of Ministry paperwork on his desk.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Not as much as I am."

She smiled in her Vesperra-esque way, letting it reach her eyes before it did her lips, and turned to leave. "Bye, Severus."

There wasn't enough time for him to return the goodbye before she closed the heavy door.

* * *

In all honesty, she was glad that he wouldn't be going to lunch. That meant that she could skip lunch without him asking why—and she did not want to tell him the reason. Vesperra wanted to save the questions for later. She wanted to wait before they started asking her about everything, and making up new taunts. Perhaps they'd wear themselves out talking about it at lunch without her there.

But it wasn't all about that. The lunch break would be the perfect time to go to the library. Ever since Severus had told her about inventing that spell, she had to admit that she was intrigued by it. If Severus could do it, why couldn't she? So she had begun researching. Vesperra knew that there would be many parts to creating a spell—the incantation, the wand movement, the mindset you need, and, of course, what the spell actually did. She still hadn't decided that yet, though it would need to be decided before anything else was. But it wasn't so much that she had a need to be fulfilled through a spell that didn't yet exist—she really just wanted to see if she could do it.

Though she hadn't figured out what the spell would do, she wanted to at least begin trying to study the theory, and the lesser known properties of spells. Knowing some wandlore couldn't hurt, either, as well as some of the old languages that spells originated from…

Vesperra left the dungeons, her ears still smoking as they would be for several hours, and made her way to the library. It was almost completely empty, since most of the school was at lunch, but that was exactly the way she wanted it. Madam Pince eyed her like a vulture from her desk, obviously suspicious as to why she wasn't in the Great Hall. Ignoring her, Vesperra walked along the bookshelves until she found a small section on wandlore. She chose a couple books that looked like they would help, and found a table.

About forty-five minutes later, more students began filing into the library. Lunch wasn't officially over yet, but most people finished eating by then and hung out with their friends around the castle. The library was always a common place for "study" groups… Yeah, they weren't really studying.

She had been taking notes on anything that seemed relevant in the books on wandlore, but was disappointed to find that there wasn't much. Most of the things that she _did_ find, though, she already knew. One of them had said that wands weren't required to perform magic—which was obvious. She, along with most other witches and wizards, had done accidental magic before getting their wand. Another passage had explained that magic is done by intent, and therefore as long as you have a wand to channel it through, if you make a movement with it and say a spell with some sort of intent, _something_ will happen. It just took a skilled witch or wizard to find the combination of words and movements that resulted in desirable effects.

Closing the book, she set it aside and looked around to see who was in the library now. There was a large group of older Gryffindors near the back, some Ravenclaw fourth year girls clustered around a table in the distance, and sparse groups of two or three around the bookshelves. And suddenly, she had an idea—this would be a good time to try out Severus's spell. She'd used it a couple other times in the corridors, but she couldn't focus that well when both she and her target were walking.

Vesperra decided upon the Ravenclaw girls, and began envisioning a circle around them, blocking out all else. When she felt ready, she made the half-circle flick-twist of her wand at them, and whispered "_Sonorego_."

"—snog him yet?" one girl with a long, blonde plait was saying. Another girl with gingery brown hair giggled.

"Of _course_ I did! He's Roger-bloody-Davies—how can you not?"

"Does he use too much ton—?"

Before she could hear that girl say anything else, Vesperra pulled her wand away and stopped focusing on them. _I did _not_ need to hear that…_ But she shouldn't have expected much else from teenage girls. Not wanting to risk overhearing something like that again, she started to stuff her wand back in her sleeve—until Draco Malfoy swaggered into the library, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

This was _perfect_… or was it awful? He might say something worth hearing, and then Vesperra would be able to hear him… But for the moment, she opened the nearest book at random and used it to hide her face so Malfoy wouldn't see her. Peeking over it, she saw the three of them sit down at a table a ways away, all facing away from her. She seized her chance and immediately performed _Sonorego _on them.

"—second she left the classroom, her ears were smoking," Malfoy was saying. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him with clueless expressions, and Goyle was actually drooling a little.

"So?" asked Crabbe.

Malfoy gave them both an exasperated look. "_So_, it means that he gave her Pepperup Potion, you morons." Once again, his cronies didn't seem to understand. Vesperra did, though. She hoped to God that he wouldn't turn around and see the smoke still drifting out of her ears.

"But what about detention?" said Goyle.

"Don't you get it?" Malfoy hissed, annoyed. "He _didn't_ give her detention. I couldn't hear exactly what went on in there, but I know he didn't punish her."

"How d'you know?" Crabbe grunted.

"You guys were there, you heard him. Snape told her to stay after class… Normally, he'd have said 'Detention' and walked off. But no, he tells her to stay after to 'discuss' it. Besides, he'd never give _her _detention—she wasn't even punished when she nearly killed me last year!"

Crabbe shifted uncomfortably, probably remembering that his friend's actions would have resulted in his own death had Severus not intervened. And still, neither of them seemed to know what Malfoy was on about. As usual, they were slow on the uptake.

"What're you gonna do?" Goyle finally said.

"There's nothing I can _do_, Goyle. I can't go to Dumbledore, because that would admit I was spying. And Snape doesn't _have_ to give her detention. It's not against the rules to give a student Pepperup Potion, either… But it's good information to know, if you know what I mean."

By the looks on their faces, Crabbe and Goyle did not know what he meant. Malfoy didn't seem to expect so either, because he smirked and stood up. Vesperra immediately took the spell off and stood up as well, turning her back on them and walking briskly back to the aisle of shelves that she found the wandlore books in.

So Malfoy still knew. He had stayed behind to try and hear what Severus was saying to Vesperra. His plan would have been worthless if she hadn't walked out of there with her ears smoking… Wait—her ears were still smoking. And she had to be the only one in Hogwarts that had waited this long to take a Pepperup Potion, so she'd be immediately recognized if Malfoy came anywhere near her—

"Does smoke come out of your ears every time you get a few minutes alone with _Sevvie_?" said a drawling voice from behind her. Vesperra's heart stopped, but she made sure not to give anything away as she spoke without whirling around—Malfoy had no idea that she had heard anything he said. And somehow, she knew that he wasn't going to let her know that he knew anything. For a moment, she thought he _had_ heard some of the conversation, as he had referred to Severus as 'Sevvie,' but then she assured herself that it was just part of his cruel teasing. Besides, she had never once called him 'Sevvie.'

"Sod off, Malfoy," Vesperra muttered angrily, putting away her books in their proper places.

But he didn't. Coming up to stand beside her, he narrowed his eyes at the books in that section of the shelf.

"Wandlore? What do you need to know about wands for, Grease-perra?"

"None of your _bloody_ business," said Vesperra as she put away the last book. She turned around, pausing for a moment before leaving to give Malfoy a glare. But in that pause, she noticed something odd—"Where are your bodyguards?" she asked coldly. It wasn't only that they were _just_ with him, but he hardly ever traveled without those two.

"Oh—Crabbe and Goyle were just with me, but the lumps wanted to get back to lunch. So I sent them back." Even though Malfoy was very good at lying, she believed him. Crabbe and Goyle were extremely out-of-place in a library, and Malfoy probably wanted to confront Vesperra alone.

From what she could see at her angle, and when she had spun around, there was no one else but her and Malfoy there. Something sparked in her mind, and she acted on it quickly—this was one of those situations where she had no time to dote on it, no time to waste. There was only one thing she could do, and it was now or never.

"You weren't at lu—"

In one swift movement, Vesperra was able to raise her left arm, pull her wand out of her sleeve, and point it at Malfoy's face. Before he registered what was happening, she hissed, "_Obliviate_!"

Like it had with Millicent a year back, an invisible force pushed him back, and he landed on the floor with a soft _thud_. Without staying long enough to see if his cold, grey eyes had become unfocused, Vesperra hurried in the other direction and got the hell out of there.

She wasn't worried that it might not have worked—she was confident in her magic. In a moment, Malfoy would be standing up, wondering how he had gotten on the ground. Vesperra had made him forget that he saw her leaving Severus's classroom with her ears smoking, his entire conversation with Crabbe and Goyle, and that he had seen her in the library at all. She made sure not to erase anything that had happened during class, because if another Slytherin were to ask him about it and he had no idea what they were talking about, they would know something was up. And if his cronies were to mention any of their conversation, which she sincerely doubted they would, Malfoy would shrug it off as them being delusional. It wouldn't be difficult.

Malfoy wouldn't have told anyone else, either. He kept his secrets to himself and his two closest friends—and the only reason he told them was probably to feel smart. It wasn't as if they'd understand him, anyway… So she trusted her instincts for this one, and left to Double Herbology.

Fortunately for Vesperra, they were still working with Mandrakes, and thus had to wear sound-proof earmuffs the entire time. So the questions were saved until dinner.

And they asked all the questions she expected they would. They reacted even closer to her expectations when she had told them her "detention."

"No!"

"_What?_"

"That's _not_ punishment—!"

"It's a bloody _treat_ for her!"

All of their faces had dropped comically, and a few of them even stood up in outrage. She didn't acknowledge their infuriation at all, but continued eating. As she glanced up, she noticed that Blaise appeared to be the only one calm. He glared at her indignantly while he ate, however. Theodore Nott seemed flushed—from anger, obviously. And Crabbe and Goyle… well, they looked angry, but mostly confused.

"He _can't_ think that'll be a proper punishment for her," Pansy whined. "He just can't!"

"Oh, I think she'll hate it, Pansy," said Tracey, smirking horribly. "Stuck in a narrow room with him for hours, all the while having to resist temptation to snog him… That'll be _hell_ for her, won't it?"

"Why, d'you think he'll punish her if she tries?" Malfoy said over the ensuing laughter. "I doubt it, if _this_ is the detention she gets for practically head-butting him in the cr—"

"How I decide to punish my students is up to me, and _not_ for you to question, Mr. Malfoy."

* * *

From up at the Staff Table, Severus had been watching from the beginning. He had wanted to know exactly what they were all saying now, to save Vesperra the trouble of telling him later, through the journals. But he realized that he had overestimated the other second year Slytherins—while his explanation had made perfect sense to him and Vesperra, the rest of them wouldn't automatically assume that. They were too immature to think he might _not_ know her personally enough to know her preferences, or that possibly, he saw it as a win-win situation—she's doing meticulous work for two hours as punishment, and he has help so it's done faster. Of course, neither of those things were true—but_ they_ had no proof that they weren't.

And he couldn't fight the urge to interfere, himself. Not that he wanted to. Severus needed to make sure none of those little brats had the wrong idea, or at least that they'd no longer voice it. But it would have been extremely obvious that he was only protecting Vesperra if he had entered the fray and returned to his seat at the Staff Table. Instead, he left the table with the excuse that he had important work that needed to be done (though Dumbledore's smile gave away that he knew the truth), and meant to make it look as though he had merely heard their conversation—for want of a better word—in passing.

Everyone froze at the sound of Severus's voice—even Vesperra, though she did for a completely different reason. The rest stopped in mid-smirk, which faltered as they daren't even turn around or look up to see him. He stood behind Malfoy, who was stuck with his lips pursed oddly, and scowled.

_Ugh…_ This was the _worst_ time for him to show up. But then as she thought about it, he must have been listening for most of the time. So he would have heard Tracey's comment anyway, and it might have been worse if Malfoy had been able to complete his thought.

Satisfied to see the lot of them embarrassed, especially Malfoy, Severus continued, "The same goes for the rest of you. And Miss Parkinson—" He turned to a nervous-looking Pansy. "—I do, in fact, think this will be a proper punishment for Miss D'Monicas. And it is what _I_ think that counts, primarily in delegating detentions. Should you all prefer not to have any, I will not hear any more _inappropriate_ comments regarding the way I do my job." With that, he turned to stride down the Great Hall so quickly that his robes whipped at the air, and chanced a side glance at Vesperra, who hadn't looked at him the whole time. _Smart girl._

* * *

It wasn't long after dinner that the silver_ L_ on the latch of his journal began glowing. He had been expecting her to message him soon, so he had it sitting in his lap, ready to be opened.

* * *

They didn't speak to her much after Severus left. Malfoy's usually pale face was still flushed with embarrassment over mentioning Severus's…_manhood_ just as he arrived. It was lucky for her, because she could actually eat in peace.

Vesperra hurried back to her dorm once she was full, and pulled her journal out from her robes. She thought a moment about whether or not she would keep anything that had transpired that day from him before writing. She decided not to.

* * *

_**Severus, Malfoy knew you hadn't given me detention.**_

_Technically, it's still a detention. Whether or not it's enjoyable doesn't define a detention. Well, it normally would. But I'm not documenting it, so your record will be clean for the most part._

_**No, I mean he really did know. He stayed behind in the dungeons to try and eavesdrop on us. He couldn't hear anything, but he saw me walk out of your classroom with my ears smoking from the Pepperup Potion. So he knew that you had helped me instead of punished me. **_

Severus suddenly felt a hot anger towards Malfoy… That kid was such a little shit.

_And he told you this?_

_**No, I used Sonorego on him, Crabbe, and Goyle in the library. He doesn't have any idea that I heard, so you can't punish him for it. He doesn't remember that was even trying to spy on us in the first place, because I Obliviated him.**_

_When did you learn how to use Obliviate?_

_**Last year. It worked the first time I tried it, after reading up on the theory. I suppose it's easier when you're in a panic.**_

_Not that I should be surprised, but I'm impressed. Not many people manage to learn a Memory Charm until at least their fifth year. What did you use it for the first time?_

She was reluctant to tell him, but after the fight they'd had about her being related to Death Eaters, she didn't want to keep too much from him.

_**Millicent had seen that Curse Book I got from the Restricted Section. I had to make her forget. But there's another thing about Malfoy—the reason he'd been spying was because of what you said. Instead of telling me I had detention, you told me to stay after class. You never do that, Severus.**_

Well, he certainly felt stupid.

_Leave it to Malfoy to make that sort of observation. I thought that everyone would assume I'd be giving you detention anyway. Damn, I'm so sorry, Vesperra. If I had told you to stay behind to discuss your detention, none of this would have happened._

_**I don't blame you at all. Actually, I think he'd still have stayed behind. He could have only mentioned it to make Crabbe and Goyle seem dumber compared to him.**_

_He treats his own friends no better than he treats his enemies. But nevertheless, he's going to continue trying to spy. He's much too interested in us._

_**Malfoy doesn't hate you, though, so it's only out of spite for me. Perhaps he's jealous.**_

_What, you think he has a crush on you?_

Severus remembered Lily, and how she always hated James Potter so much. Potter had hated his and Lily's relationship, and often insulted her. But then, it turned out that he had fancied her. And though she still hated him, she ended up fancying him back… If Malfoy _was_ merely covering up feelings for Vesperra, would she someday like him back? Would she have a fight with Severus and never speak to him again? Would she and Malfoy become Head Boy and Head Girl in their seventh year, then start dating…?

_**I bloody well hope not. And actually, I'm sure he doesn't. He really hates me, Severus—enough to kill me. I know he would if he had the chance. Besides, no one would ever have a crush on me. But I do think he's jealous of your attention. He wants to be the favorite.**_

_But I already make it seem as though he's the favorite in class! What more does he want? If I didn't know better, I'd think he had a crush on me._

_**Maybe he just hates the idea of me being happy. Or maybe, since he suspects our relationship to some degree, he thinks that since I hate him, I could get you to hate him too.**_

_I do hate him. Son of an old friend or not, he's awful to you, and I'll always hate him for that. But as he is the son of an old friend, it would not be prudent to treat him as harshly as he deserves._

Vesperra felt a great rush of affection for him at the sincerity she heard in his voice as it read that he hated Malfoy, and had a sudden, undeniable urge to kiss him. But as he was either in his room or office, the page of the journal was the closest she could get.

And then she realized what she was doing, so she stopped.

_**I understand. And I'd say that we have to be more careful, but we already do all we can. He can't hear anything because of your Imperturbable Charm, and if he decides to try and follow me when I visit you in your office, he'd just be waiting outside for hours.**_

_But then he'd know that you're spending hours with me at a time. You have to make sure he doesn't know you're going to my office. _

_**Why don't we just use the Room of Requirement, like we used to?**_

_No, he'd just follow you to the Room of Requirement, then. He can't know about it._

_**What if I just come whenever he has Quidditch practice? You can check the dates and times the Slytherin team has booked the field, right?**_

_Yes, I can. We'd be spending only a few hours at a time together, and at random times during the weeks, but it's better than not seeing you at all except for classes and meals._

_**Perfect. So we can still hang out, and Malfoy's thrown off his trail.**_

_I never thought I'd hear you say that._

_**Say what?**_

_'Hang out.'_

_**That's what we usually do, isn't it? Just sit on your couch and talk. And occasionally play Wizard's Chess, and make bets.**_

_I don't think we'll be making any more bets any time soon. At least not ones involving Firewhiskey._

_**I'm fine with that. But I'm also tired, so I'll see you tomorrow.**_

_So am I. Goodnight._

* * *

But Vesperra wasn't really tired—she was getting uncomfortable, and didn't want to talk to him anymore. She remembered the day they had made that bet, and she also remembered that she had wanted to suggest that the winner had to kiss the loser.

And she had just wanted to kiss him when he said he hated Malfoy.

Tracey had said she'd be resisting the urge to snog him, and that it would probably be hell for her. Of course, she didn't know that Vesperra was routinely that close to Severus. She also didn't know that the real hell for her was not knowing whether or not they were all right.

Did she? He was her friend… her only friend, and a close friend. But he was so much older than her… but he had said it himself—they were on the same intelligence level. Vesperra was sure that she could never think of anyone else that way. Ever.

What _this_ what she had been feeling over the summer? It couldn't be. She refused to believe it. She would not allow herself to be subjected to such stupid emotions.

Those emotions had failed her parents. They must have felt something at some point, but somewhere down the line, something went wrong. Apparently, both her mum and dad were rendered incapable of feeling it, or at least showing it, because Vesperra never received any. No one ever cared about her, or truly wanted her happiness, except for Severus.

But that didn't mean she had to feel anything more than the usual feelings that accompanied friendship—trust, caring, mutual interests, and enjoying his company…

And still, there was that niggling question in her mind constantly surfacing, no matter how hard she tried to push it down.

Did she?

Did she love him?

* * *

Severus was glad she had ended the conversation for the night, because he was overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking about what the other second year Slytherins had been saying to her. Of course, they were trying to embarrass her, but it made him wonder…

Did she really enjoy being near him that much? And did she ever have to resist snogging him?

He didn't want to think about it. Vesperra couldn't feel that way towards _him_… who could possibly feel that way towards him? He was just her… her friend. Just like Lily was just his friend.

And that's where it hurt. Lily was everything to him… but so was Vesperra. If it came down to it, he knew he'd die for her. But he had sworn to protect Potter and would therefore need to stay alive… So he guessed he'd just have to make sure Vesperra was never in a situation in which he'd have to die to save her.

But as much as he cared about her, he could never love Vesperra like he did Lily. Besides, she was so much younger than him… He wanted her safety. And her happiness. That was it. They were friends.

Did _she_ want to be more? No, Vesperra was logical, especially about these kind of things… She wouldn't see him that way. She couldn't. He doubted she'd ever see anyone that way, seeing as how she hated everyone but him.

She _did_ hate everyone but him, didn't she? Well, there were a select few people that she didn't hate, but tolerated… As a child, he had hated everyone but Lily. And though he had Slytherin friends, he mostly only tolerated them…

Was he becoming _her_ Lily?

Was she in love with him?

* * *

It was the night before Halloween, and Vesperra was eating dinner in the Great Hall. Currently, no one had anything to say to her, because Malfoy had their attention by bragging about a supposedly amazing dive he had done in Quidditch practice. For once she was grateful for Malfoy being full of himself because, lately, most of their insults and remarks made during 'Let's torment Vesperra time' were about her and Severus.

Obviously, it was because of her "detention." Helping Severus inventory his stores was just like any of the other times they had spent together—except she couldn't stop thinking about what Tracey had said. Part of her wanted to know just what he would do if she did try and kiss him. All things aside, she wanted to know—would he be angry? Would he tell her to leave his office? Would he politely tell her that he didn't think of her that way and that he never would? Or, by some nonexistent chance, would he deepen it?

That last thought automatically played out in her head, and her heart rate increased. _No—dammit—he's twenty years older than me, that would be extremely inappropriate… And he would never do that…_ She would never do that, either. She wasn't anywhere near as bold enough, or stupid enough.

As she reached for her goblet of pumpkin juice, a translucent figure with silvery bloodstains drifted lazily along the table, stopping at the platter of chicken in front of her.

_Oh Merlin, not the Baron…_

When she purposely didn't acknowledge him, he addressed her. "Miss D'Monicas, if I recall, you loathe happy festivities, correct? Especially on Halloween?" Not sure where this was going, she narrowed her eyes at him and nodded slowly. "Nick invited me—as well as many other ghosts—to his five-hundredth deathday party, and though it is not my place to invite—"

"You're inviting Grease-perra to a _party_?" Malfoy interrupted, apparently done with his Quidditch anecdote. "Well, she'll definitely fit in with hundreds of ghosts there…"

The Bloody Baron looked unabashed by Malfoy's comment, but in a creepy way. His gaunt face was expressionless and his eyes were sunken, and being transparent made it a lot creepier.

"It is not my place to invite, but I'd find it a much less unpleasant evening if you'd attend. The living are not strictly unallowed, as Nick has invited the Potter boy—"

"If Potter's there, I'm not going," snarled Vesperra. For a moment, she had actually considered skipping the Halloween feast and staying in the dungeons for the deathday party, but now there wasn't a chance. If they were the only two living people there, there was no doubt he'd try to talk to her…

The Baron's already lightless eyes drooped slightly, and he made a small noise of disappointment before sinking into the table. Vesperra still didn't know why the Bloody Baron seemed to take an interest in her. She supposed she should have been happy that he at least liked her—but it was annoying. And now, she was wishing he hadn't spoken to her at all, because Malfoy and the others' attentions were directed to her.

* * *

Starting off, it was a particularly better Halloween than the last. Severus could never see that day as anything more than a reminder of Lily's death, though. The strange part was that he'd been reminded of it by Vesperra the night before. She had told him how the Bloody Baron had invited her to Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party on Halloween. He hadn't mentioned to her that it was anyone else's deathday.

At least he didn't have to worry about Quirrell now, or anything else that might want to kill Potter. The boy was fine, and he could just mourn Lily in peace…

But the feast itself wasn't so peaceful. It never was. And the fact that Lockhart, who wore awfully bright orange robes for the occasion, was loudly telling Halloween stories of his made it much, much worse.

Vesperra didn't seem to be having a very fun time, either. Then again, her definition of fun was very unlike most other peoples'. He supposed she'd have been better off going to the deathday party, if only Potter hadn't been invited.

To his surprise, nothing significant happened during the feast. It was a normal feast, where people talked and ate and then they went to bed. Probably because Potter and his friends weren't there.

After the feast, the teachers passed through the staffroom as usual, but no one stopped for chitchat because it was late. The noise and bustle of students returning to their dorms was almost louder than the feast itself—but then it suddenly stopped. There was complete silence.

Evidently confused, Dumbledore led the group of teachers down the corridor, and they turned at the corner to see a crowd of students—at least half the student body.

"What's the hold up?" said Lockhart with a curious smile.

And then, they heard someone yell from the crowd, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" It sounded like Draco Malfoy.

At once, Severus and the other present staff members hurried to the scene, which turned out to be an odd sight. There stood Potter, Weasley, and Granger in front of Filch's cat hanging, stiff, from a torch bracket, and something was written on the wall behind them, glistening red.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

* * *

The one good thing about the Halloween feast was that the rumor that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons was—well, just a rumor. But the worst thing had to be that halfway through, Vesperra froze in the middle of spooning some mashed potatoes into her mouth, for she had heard a noise quite apart from the talk in the Great Hall. Despite the deafening noise around her that should have drowned it out, it was very clear.

"_Hungry… for so long… finally kill… I can kill… rip… tear…_" It was the same eerie, cold voice she had heard over a month ago… and it was just as chilling. But once again, it had disappeared. Quickly swallowing her mashed potatoes, she looked around. Everyone else hadn't seemed to notice anything, and continued eating and talking as if nothing had happened.

_Did no one else hear…?_ No… she wasn't mad. How could only she hear it? Why her? Well, she definitely wasn't going to mention it, because then they'd all think she _was_ mad. For the rest of the feast, it remained in her mind, and she contemplated who or what the voice could possibly belong to.

Finally, the feast had ended, and she was impatient to tell Severus over the journals that she had heard it again. And then, as everyone made their way out to the Entrance Hall, she remembered—she wasn't the first person to hear or see things that no one else could. Before the start of term, Theodore Nott had apparently seen something in between the stagecoaches. If she weren't such a thoughtless person, she'd have felt bad for not believing him. Perhaps if he had seen whatever those things were, he had also heard what she could…

Winding her way through the crowd a bit, she was able to see him walking—and he was alone, even better. Malfoy and most of the others were a ways behind them, so she had nothing stopping her.

"Nott!" she said loud enough that she would be heard. His head immediately jerked around to see who had called his name, and his eyes fell upon her at once. He looked surprised—and who could blame him, Vesperra never talked to anyone—but not angry or unwelcoming.

Vesperra had never hated him, only tolerated him. He hadn't joined in when they were all tormenting her on their first day at Hogwarts. In fact, he barely ever joined in to insult her. He had only even spoken directly to her once before. And he had never seemed to hate her, either.

Shuffling forward to walk next to him, she looked at him seriously and said, "You saw things near the horseless carriages at the beginning of the year, right?"

His face dawned in understanding. "Yes—but they weren't horseless! They had horses—or, they _looked_ like horses…"

"But no one else could see them," said Vesperra. Theodore frowned. "Well…" She hesitated telling him this, as she hardly knew him, but he was her only hope. "I heard something in the Great Hall, and no one else seemed to… Did you?"

"What was it?"

"A cold voice, saying it was going to kill…" But she already knew what his answer would be before she spoke, and her disappointment was official when he shook his head. She scowled and started to move away from him, but stopped to say one more thing. "I didn't tell anyone about what you told me you saw—"

"I won't tell anyone," he said. Vesperra wasn't one to believe people that easily, but Theodore had never done anything to spite her, so why would he start now? Giving him a small nod to say "Alright, then," she made to move ahead of him. And then, everyone ahead of her stopped, so she nearly bumped into the girl in front of her.

She quickly saw why they had stopped—there was a message written with foot-high letters on the wall in front of them.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Craning her neck, she was also able to see a cat hanging from a torch bracket… It was Mrs. Norris. She looked dead. And it took a minute, for Vesperra wasn't as tall as most of the people standing in front of her, but she also saw Potter and his friends standing under the cat. Everyone in the corridor, as well as the crowd of students that had made to exit around the other side of the corridor, were trying to see exactly what was going on, and many seemed mesmerized by the writing on the wall. All was silent.

And then the silence was broken by a familiar, yet oh-so hated voice. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Malfoy came up behind Vesperra and pushed her to the side so he could get to the front. He pushed much too hard, which was surely intentional, and she nearly lost her footing. Then, she was pushed aside again by Filch, who was shouldering his way through the crowd.

* * *

"What's going on here? What's going on?" said Filch. Severus followed Dumbledore through the parted crowd, and habitually looked to see if he could see Vesperra. But there wasn't time to look properly, so he continued looking ahead. Filch finally made it to the front, and saw his cat.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" He was clutching his face in horror as he shrieked. Then, he rounded on Potter, who was just standing there, as though innocent. "_You! You!_ You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"

"_Argus!_" said Dumbledore in a very commanding tone. They had just arrived on the scene, so now they stood in the clearing where Potter, his friends, and Mrs. Norris were. While Dumbledore swept forward to detach Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket, Severus only had one thing going through his mind.

_Caught at the scene of an attack… Potter's _really _going to get it now…_ Well, more would have gone through his mind if he had had time. Within seconds, Dumbledore was holding the cat and, grimly, said, "Come with me, Argus. You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Before anyone could move, Lockhart stepped forward, grinning. _Why the hell did _he_ have to come with us?_

"My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore. The crowd on the other side of the corridor parted to let them pass, and Severus saw Vesperra not too far away, her eyes following him. He met her eyes for a split second, and surreptitiously patted his side, where his journal was tucked into his robes, to tell her that he'd tell her everything later.

Vesperra watched him walk away with Dumbledore and McGonagall, and scowled at the rest of them—surprisingly, at Lockhart more than Potter.

* * *

_This is the only time he'll ever be useful…_ Severus thought, hating to have to use Lockhart's office. But his dread was nothing compared to actually walking in there… Even in the dark, he could see several posters of Lockhart, all with their hair in rollers, dodging out of sight. _How is it even possible for one man to love himself that much?_ For a moment, he felt that Lockhart shared more of a likeness with James Potter than his own son did.

The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk, then stood back so Dumbledore could lay Mrs. Norris's stiff body down and examine her. He and McGonagall bent close while Severus loomed behind them, struggling hard not to smile.

He knew for a fact that Potter couldn't have done that to Mrs. Norris himself—whatever happened to her must have been extremely Dark Magic. Magic leaves traces, and he could tell. However, Dumbledore had said at the beginning of the year that if Potter or Weasley broke any more school rules, he'd have no choice but to expel them. Moreover, he'd like to have known what caused it… That was _not_, by any means, common magic. He had to say, he was intrigued. And what really gave him the urge to smile was that he distinctly remembered Lily saying, years ago, "_I love animals, Sev, but I swear I am going to kill that cat one day…_"

At least she got her wish (though it was indirect)—the cat was dead. She deserved at least _that_ on her deathday… Filch had been the caretaker when Severus was at Hogwarts, and he got Mrs. Norris as a gift. That cat had nearly gotten him and Lily in huge trouble quite a few times… But he made sure not to smile now, because Filch was sobbing, slumped in a chair next to Lockhart's desk, his face in his hands. Severus couldn't have Filch hating him, because he was a useful person to have respect you.

Lockhart was no longer standing back, but hovering around them. "It was probably a curse that killed her—probably the Transmogrifian Torture—I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…" he was saying, glancing once or twice at his portraits for them to nod in agreement. "I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou—a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared up the matter at once…"

Severus then blocked out the sound of Lockhart's voice and watched as Dumbledore tried various revealing spells on Mrs. Norris and at last straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," said Dumbledore softly. Severus was glad to see Lockhart look slightly embarrassed as he shut up.

Filch stopped sobbing, but said in a choked voice as he looked through his fingers, "Not dead? But why's she all—stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified—" said Dumbledore, and Lockhart said over him, "Ah! I thought so!" "—But how, I cannot say…" For once, Severus saw that the old man actually appeared confused. He was never confused.

"Ask _him_!" Filch shrieked, turning to Potter, whose eyes widened.

"No second year could have done this. It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—"

"He did it, he did it!" spat Filch angrily. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found—in my office—he knows I'm a—I'm a—" He paused for a moment to force himself to say it. "He knows I'm a Squib!"

And finally, Potter spoke—and loudly. "I never _touched_ Mrs. Norris! And I don't even know what a Squib _is_."

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

They wouldn't get anywhere at this rate, but Severus knew exactly how to get to where they wanted—_he_ wanted. "If I might speak, Headmaster…" All heads turned towards him, including the Lockharts on the wall. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said with a slight sneer, doubting it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

Thanks to Vesperra, he had the perfect way of proving that Potter wasn't trustworthy. Severus already knew why they hadn't been at the feast, but he wanted to see if their story would match up with his.

"Nearly Headless Nick invited me to his deathday party!" said Potter. "And I promised him I'd go, so—"

"We thought we'd go with him," Granger said shrilly. "and we _did_—"

"It was in the dungeons," Weasley added. "There were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there—"

"But why not join the feast afterward?" asked Severus, determined to find that they had done something wrong. "Why go up to that corridor?"

"Because—because—" Potter stammered, failing at his obvious attempt to appear innocent. "because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."

Severus's glittering eyes swept over Potter's, and he didn't even have to go into Legilimency mode to dip into the surface of his mind—he was obviously lying. But he didn't delve further, because Dumbledore would surely see what he was doing, and Legilimency was forbidden on students. Still, a triumphant smirk flickered across Severus's face.

"Without any supper?" he asked. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

Then just as a huge rumble sounded from the boy's stomach, Weasley said, "We weren't hungry." This was too easy… Severus's smile widened as he turned to Dumbledore.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." This was turning out to be a better Halloween than he expected. That is, until—

"Really, Severus," McGonagall said sharply. "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Oh, but there was… Severus didn't need to put any effort into using Legilimency to see that the boy what guilty of _something!_

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," said Dumbledore after giving Potter a searching look. It seemed as though the old man was using Legilimency himself… but couldn't he see? Couldn't the greatest wizard of their age _see_ that Potter was guilty?

Filch seemed just as furious as Severus. "My cat has been Petrified! I want to see some _punishment_!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

Then Lockhart stepped forward. "I'll make it," he said eagerly. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Excuse me," Severus said icily, glaring daggers at Lockhart. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school." In the pause that ensued, Severus was fuming both for Potter's lack of a punishment and Lockhart being a pompous arse, and everyone else stared awkwardly.

"You may go," said Dumbledore to the trio. They left at once, and Severus calmed down a bit once he didn't have to look at those brats anymore. The Headmaster then turned to Filch, who had an expression of mingled anger and grief. "If you wish, Argus, you may keep Mrs. Norris's body in your own quarters until the Restorative Draught is ready, as she is your cat."

Filch began sobbing again, and nodded. He picked up Mrs. Norris softly and, cradling her in his arms, left Lockhart's office as well.

"We will leave you now, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore. "I'd like to speak to Minerva and Severus privately, and it would be immensely rude to have you step out of your own office." Lockhart looked as if he were about to insist they stay, but Severus was glad to leave the room full of Lockharts on the walls.

"You don't suppose this could be a prank, Albus?" said McGonagall when they had arrived in Dumbledore's office.

"It would be a very sick prank," he replied grimly. "Only very Dark Magic could have Petrified Mrs. Norris… and to claim the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again…"

"But that isn't even possible, Albus—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Severus said over McGonagall, even though he wasn't, "but isn't the Chamber of Secrets a myth?" He had read about the legend when he had gone to Hogwarts, and though he had always believed it was true then, had a hard time believing it now that it was staring him in the face. People's minds worked strangely like that.

McGonagall looked at him strangely, but Dumbledore said, "Forgive me, Severus. I have forgotten that you are one of the few teachers at Hogwarts who wasn't here as a student or professor the first time it was opened. You may know the legend, but the recent story is much longer."

He never knew it had been opened at all… But according to legend, Salazar Slytherin's monster resided inside the chamber, and would set out to kill all who were "unworthy to study magic," meaning Muggleborns. If it _was _opened again, and that monster had been released…

"Do you believe it has been opened again?" asked Severus.

"Some pieces fit together," said Dumbledore, "yet others don't. I cannot be sure at this point in time. Now, Minerva, it is late—" Without waiting for him to finish, she strode to the door and bade them goodnight. "Severus, I daresay you would like me to inform you of the last time the Chamber was opened… And even if you wouldn't, it is important that you know."

"You might as well tell Vesperra and me together, to save me the trouble of retelling the story to her."

Dumbledore considered for a moment with an expression that made Severus think that the story would involve Lily or protecting Potter, but then his blue eyes twinkled. "Tomorrow, then. Bring her here anytime after breakfast, because I like to have a bit of a lie-in on Sundays."

Nodding, Severus made for the door, but was stopped by Dumbledore's voice again.

"You still haven't told her about Lily, have you?" Turning around, he saw that the Headmaster was smiling sadly. He scowled.

"No."

And before he could harshly shut the door, Fawkes let out one low, musical note.

* * *

Before leaving to the dungeons, Vesperra made sure to get a good look at the writing on the wall. Up close, it seemed to have been written in blood.

She had never heard of the Chamber of Secrets… but Malfoy had seemed to. Had he been part of Mrs. Norris's attack? If he had, it would have been stupid to go shouting that…

Vesperra stayed up, staring at her journal, waiting for Severus to write. After an hour, she started to think he had forgotten about her and gone straight to sleep after he returned to his room, and she figured she should have expected as much, since it was after midnight. She had just decided that she ought to get to sleep when the _S_ on the latch of her journal began glowing.

As soon as the latch was undone, the pages flipped themselves and landed on a page where a message wrote itself out, accompanies by Severus's voice;

_Are you awake?_

They talked halfway into the night. Vesperra told him about hearing the voice again, and how she was the only one that heard it. He told her everything that had happened in Lockhart's office, including how Potter once again walked free, unpunished, when he was obviously keeping something important from the staff. As usual, they ranted back and forth about Potter for a few minutes before they got back on track to the original conversation. Then, Severus told her the legend of the Chamber of Secrets as he had known it, and that he recently discovered it wasn't just a legend.

He then told her to come to the staffroom after breakfast tomorrow (which was technically today), because Dumbledore would tell them both everything. Glad that the old man wasn't keeping things from them this time, she quickly fell asleep.

* * *

"What's your business?" said one of the stone gargoyles outside of the staffroom.

"Professor Snape told me to come—" As soon as she said that, the door was pulled open by Severus, who stepped out immediately and closed it. She guessed that there were other teachers still in the staffroom, and that he didn't want them to see her.

"Malfoy didn't—?" he started to say.

"No, I made sure."

He smirked, and placed his hand in between her shoulder blades, leading her further down that corridor and up a couple flights of stairs until they stopped in front of a huge stone gargoyle.

"Chocolate Frog." The gargoyle leapt aside, allowing Severus and Vesperra to step onto the moving spiral staircase, which came to a stop at the Headmaster's office door. Severus knocked with the brass door knocker, and Dumbledore's voice rang out, "Enter."

"Ah, Severus and Miss D'Monicas," said Dumbledore brightly as they entered. "Please sit down—trust me, you'll need to."

They obliged, and Severus remembered something. He reached inside his robes for a small bottle, and handed it to Vesperra. "I knew you couldn't have had gotten more than four hours of sleep, so I brought it for you—so you won't be tired."

A small smile reached her eyes, and she took the potion, gulping it down. "Thanks, Severus." Both of them looked to Dumbledore at once, wondering what the old man would think about Vesperra calling him by his first name. He merely looked patient, folding his bony hands on his desk and smiling warmly at them, his eyes twinkling more than ever.

"I did not originally want any students to know this, Miss D'Monicas," Dumbledore started. "But considering all that you have done for Severus, especially last year, I feel it is important that you know. I trust you will not breathe a word to any of your fellow students."

"Of course I wouldn't, Professor," said Vesperra.

"Excellent. Now, I believe Severus has already told you the legend of the Chamber of Secrets?" They nodded, and didn't ask how he knew. Both of them were used to the fact that sometimes, Dumbledore just knew because he knew. "Well, from the Chamber's creation up until about fifty years ago, most thought it was a myth. Then, one year, there were a series of attacks on Muggleborn students, in which they were found Petrified, much like Mrs. Norris is now. After one student was killed, Armando Dippet—the Headmaster at the time—prepared to close the school. However, a prefect by the name of Tom Riddle turned in another student, who had sufficient evidence against him and was expelled from Hogwarts. But that student was innocent, and I knew he was, so I let him stay on as the Gamekeeper."

"So it was Hagrid, Professor?" said Vesperra, sharing a glance with Severus for a second. Dumbledore nodded. "But if he was innocent, why'd he still get expelled?"

"I could not persuade the school governors, Miss D'Monicas. Even the Ministry was involved. No one but I believed that it was not Hagrid that was the Heir of Slytherin, but actually Tom Riddle. You see, very few people know that 'Tom Riddle' was Lord Voldemort's given name." Eyes widening and heart pounding faster to the same beat, Vesperra and Severus shared another glance. "Not even his Death Eaters knew—_especially_ not his Death Eaters. Only those who taught him, or were unfortunate enough to attend school with him know."

Dumbledore glanced at Severus, and his blue eyes flashed strangely. Knowing what he meant by it, Severus shook his head so softly that you wouldn't be able to tell unless you were looking for it. It was to say, _No, I haven't told her I'm a Death Eater yet. So don't mention it._

"I had not known for sure, at the time, that Tom was the Heir of Slytherin—but I had guessed it, for he was a Parselmouth, like Salazar Slytherin." There was an awkward silence where both Dumbledore and Severus looked to Vesperra.

"I'm not about to find out that You-Know-Who is my uncle, am I?" she asked tentatively. She had only recently discovered her relation to Voldemort's most loyal Death Eaters, and now _this_ possibility…

But Dumbledore merely chuckled. "No, Miss D'Monicas. It would be impossible… And you are definitely not related to Slytherin, either. Voldemort was his last living descendant. Your Parselmouth ability is a rare occurrence, to not have been caused by heredity…. Anyway, after Tom framed Hagrid, there were no more attacks, and Hogwarts was not closed. Slytherin's monster returned to the Chamber of Secrets, and has lied dormant there for fifty years. The events that transpired last night are… peculiar. Mrs. Norris was Petrified, like the last time the Chamber was opened, and there was, of course, that cryptic message. But there is the fact that Mrs. Norris is a cat, and that only Voldemort could have opened the Chamber. As Dark and complex magic it would take, I believe it may, in fact, be a prank to scare us into thinking the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Evidence points in both directions. But if it _is_ open, then—"

"Then the Dark Lord would have to be in the school again," Severus said quietly, dreading the possibility. He had spent all last year foiling Voldemort and Quirrell's plans. It had been dangerous, stressful, and worst of all, constantly watching out for Potter. He had thought that things would be easier this year, but he could see they weren't going to be.

"Precisely. But I do not believe that Voldemort could have penetrated the castle's defenses yet again, especially in his current state as less than a soul. However, I am not so self-loving as Voldemort—" _Or Lockhart,_ thought Severus and Vesperra. "—to believe that I am never wrong. I would suggest that you be wary, though I know you would do so without my suggestion."

"Professor," Vesperra said suddenly, remembering last night, "I think Draco Malfoy might have had something to do with the attack. Did you hear what he shouted last night? 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!'" She cringed after using that word, even though it was in that context. Severus gripped the arm of his chair a little harder. They both hated that word. "He at least knew about the Chamber… So it would make sense that he'd want to pull a prank like that. He could have learned the curse from his father—"

"Thank you for telling me this, Miss D'Monicas," said Dumbledore calmly. "But Mr. Malfoy was in the Great Hall at the time of the attack, so—"

"He could have done it before the feast, Professor—"

"I understand your concern, Miss D'Monicas, but I hardly believe Mr. Malfoy to be capable of such magic. I would not even believe that you, with your talent, could manage it, and I realize that you are intelligent beyond your years. And now I apologize, because I would like to speak with Severus alone for a short moment, and must ask you to wait outside."

Still frustrated at Dumbledore, she didn't return his smile, but left her chair. She squeezed Severus's arm lightly before making her way to the door, pausing to glance at the phoenix before shutting it.

* * *

"Do you realize what you've done?" Severus hissed, scowling at Dumbledore, who was unfazed.

"No—what is it?"

"You've encouraged her." He spoke quietly, just to make sure Vesperra would not hear him. "You said you didn't expect her to be able to manage that level of magic, and she's going to take that as a challenge!"

Dumbledore merely smiled and shook his head softy. "Severus, I think she has far too much on her mind to find another thing that would keep her busy."

"Too much on her mind—Albus, you didn't—?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Severus. She'd sense me in her mind, anyway."

"Yes—she would, I've noticed that about her…" Severus's lips twitched upward for a brief moment.

"Why have you not told her, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.

He scowled again. "About which—Lily, or me being a Death Eater?"

"Both."

Severus glared in silence for a minute, then said in barely more than a whisper, "You think I don't want to?"

There was another silence, in which Severus refused to look Dumbledore in the eye. "I see," he said at last. "But I suppose it's for the better… That girl would be heartbroken, Severus."

Realizing at once what the old man meant, his face hardened, and he stood up. Half of him wanted to ask Dumbledore how he knew, and the other half wanted to refuse to believe it. "Is that all?"

"One last thing, Severus—if Voldemort is somehow in the school, then you know—?"

"Yes, I know what I have to do."

* * *

**God, Malfoy is such a little shit, isn't he? Now, I'm not going to mention anything else, because I know you're already thinking about them. I'd like to see what you guys think before saying anything (and you know what I'm talking about.)**

**This is somewhat unrelated, but I'm planning on writing a Galaxy Quest one-shot with Alexander/OC, which will either be up today or tomorrow. So if you like Galaxy Quest, watch for it. :)**

**Please review, so I know what you think about this chapter!**

**In the next chapter: Quidditch, Swelling Solution**


	21. Book 2: Chapter 7

**I would have uploaded this last night, but was being a jerk and wouldn't let me. Now, I know I originally said that the Dueling Club would be part of this chapter, but I decided to push that to the next one, because I didn't want this chapter to get too long. Incidentally, this is a little shorter than the others. Well, read and enjoy!**

* * *

Vesperra left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, scowling as usual. Lockhart had assigned them to compose a poem about his defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf for homework… Well, she was not going to do it. She hadn't done any of Lockhart's homework, nor had she participated in class at all. Every time he asked her why she refused to do anything, she was sorely tempted to say, "Because you're an idiot," but she was sure that outright calling him an idiot would get her detention. And she dreaded the possibility of spending a night of detention with Lockhart more than she dreaded Voldemort somehow being inside the school again.

Luckily, not doing Lockhart's homework hadn't gotten her detention yet. But it almost seemed worth detention to turn in the poem she had already come up with in her head while walking in the corridor:

_Lockhart is a pompous arse,  
__He's stupid and he lies.  
__I want to wrap my hands around  
__His throat and squeeze until he dies._

It wasn't in a perfect rhythm, and she guessed it would sound better in Iambic Pentameter, but she liked it. She had never written a poem before, and she was proud of herself.

Wondering what Lockhart's reaction would be if she actually turned that in, she went directly to the library. Vesperra not only refused to write a poem out of spite for that man, but also because she had found something to do that was much more important than DADA classes—or at least, what they had become. She had realized what she wanted her spell to do.

It surprised her that she hadn't thought of it before… Vesperra was taunted everyday. Her fellow second year Slytherins made a past-time of it (with the exception of Theodore Nott), as well some students from other years and Houses. What she really wanted… was a spell to make them all shut up. No, not just a spell—a curse.

She could easily do that with a Silencing Charm, but what good would that do? It wouldn't. They'd get a teacher or an older student to take it off, and then they'd come back… No, she wanted something that would make them shut up,_ and_ make it painful. Then they'd get what they deserved for everything they'd ever said, and they'd be too afraid to ever say anything ever again. Then they'd leave her alone.

So she spent all the time she could studying Latin, Greek, and Runic languages, and writing down anything she thought might work on scraps of parchment. There would be a lot of work ahead of her, but she knew she could do it.

* * *

With the possibility of Voldemort being in the castle yet no clues as to _how_, Severus was going through inner turmoil. If he was in the castle, then Potter was undoubtedly in danger. After failing to kill him last year, Voldemort would surely try harder this time…

But Severus didn't know what to look for. Could he have possessed another teacher, or perhaps a student? He didn't see how, since none of his students had suddenly donned turbans… And he'd still have to somehow give them the key to the Chamber. Still, he watched for any suspicious activity, just in case. It was all he could do, because he didn't even know if there _was_ anything to look for yet.

Meanwhile, he had told Vesperra to be on the lookout, and to use _Sonorego_ on anyone if she thought their conversation was worth listening to. So far, neither of them had found anything, and he saw that as a good sign.

* * *

As the second Saturday of November neared, Malfoy became more and more unbearable. Every second that he wasn't insulting Vesperra, he was talking about Quidditch. Although, it was the start of the Quidditch season, so everyone was talking about it. Last year, she had actually been eager to see the downfall of Potter and the Gryffindor team (and disappointed when it didn't happen), but now that Malfoy was on the Slytherin team… she decided that she hated the sport. Vesperra was definitely not going to support Gryffindor against her own House, but she didn't want to root for Slytherin when Malfoy was involved.

But she had to admit, it was virtually impossible for Slytherin to lose this time. Every member of the team had a Nimbus Two-thousand and One—the best model there was. They were nothing more than greenish blurs when they were flying out on the field, and Malfoy really wasn't a bad flier.

Okay, so she couldn't help but want her own House to win. But she wanted it for the House points, not for the sake of Quidditch.

During those two weeks, she also took to spying on Malfoy, though not as heavily as she had when she was trying to get revenge a year ago. Vesperra merely paid attention to everything he said during meals (though she made sure not to appear so), in case he said anything about the Chamber of Secrets, or whether or not he had a hand in that prank—if it even was a prank.

All Malfoy had said was that his father had already told him all about the Chamber of Secrets, that he didn't believe it was only a prank, and that he wished he knew who had done it. Undeterred, she kept listening, sometimes using _Sonorego_ from across the library or corridors to hear if he said anything privately to Crabbe and Goyle. Once or twice she heard him mention her, but it was the same old stuff. She was sure, because of what he said, though, that he was making the efforts to follow her like Severus predicted.

Unfortunately for him but luckily for Vesperra, he never caught her going to Severus's office, because they had stuck to the plan of her visiting him only when Malfoy had Quidditch practice.

On the Saturday of the Quidditch game, she felt wholly apathetic about it. But at eleven, she made her way down to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school, if only to see Gryffindor get crushed.

* * *

Severus pushed aside the black robes in his wardrobe on Saturday morning, and instead grabbed the one dark green set. It was the first Quidditch game of the season—Gryffindor versus Slytherin, as always—and no matter what, he always supported his House.

Just before eleven, he returned to his chambers to grab his Slytherin gloves and scarf, then headed out to the pitch. It was a muggy day, and a threat of thunder resided in the air, but he didn't mind. He always liked Quidditch games to have sort of an ominous setting.

Wanting to avoid Lucius Malfoy (who was sure to be there, as his son was now on the team), since he'd likely be bragging the entire time, Severus didn't climb up to the higher boxes. Instead, he budged along the crowd until he found a seat in the back of a section of mostly older Slytherins. Out of habit, he began scanning the crowd for Vesperra. After a few minutes of failing to see her, he had just decided that she was probably on his side of the pitch when he heard a voice beside him.

"Looking for someone?"

* * *

He quickly looked to his right and down, and saw Vesperra sitting next to him on the bench, looking up at him from her side view. "Ves—Miss D'Monicas, what are you doing here?" he hissed, making sure not to be overheard by the nearby students.

"It's not against the rules for a teacher to sit next to a student, is it?" she asked, leaning towards him so he could hear.

Severus stared at her in disbelief. What was wrong with her? They had put in a lot of effort to make sure no one ever saw them, and she just decided on a whim that she'd sit next to him? "But—"

"Relax," said Vesperra in almost a commanding tone, holding up her hand. "Malfoy won't be able to see us in the air, and the rest of the second year Slytherins are way down there." She pointed to her right. "Everyone else in the school won't even care—"

"What about Thomas and Finnigan?" said Severus. "You know they'd like to get some dirt on you… And they're on the other side of the field. They could see us if they wanted to."

"And what are the chances they're going to look to see where I am? They're not the spying type—that's why they're Gryffindors."

In spite of himself, he smirked. "You're basing this on 'what-ifs!' Since when do you want to risk everything just so you can sit next to me?"

"And _what_ am I risking, Se—"

"Call me Professor Snape, at least, while there are people around."

"Fine, but that's useless, as they'd be more suspicious just by hearing our conver—"

"Wait." That gave him an idea. He immediately reached inside his robes for his wand, and waved his wand on the area around them, muttering "_Muffliato_."

"What did you just do?" Vesperra asked.

"Cast a spell so no one can hear us," he told her. "Now call me whatever you want."

"So it's the opposite of _Sonorego_?"

"I suppose… but what were you saying before?"

"Oh—that we're not risking anything more than we already have been, Severus," she continued. "And do you really think I care about Quidditch? I thought that if I came, I might as well enjoy it. I hate to do anything based on chances rather than solid fact as much as you do, but that's usually inevitable. There's a lot of 'what-ifs' going on right now—What if the Chamber of Secrets has been opened? What if You-Know-Who _is_ in the castle? And the 'What if anyone discovers our relationship' has been going on since you and I became friends. And still, if anyone sees, no one can do more than just suspect it, which is what they've already been doing."

He had to admit, she had a point. "Wait—" Vesperra started to open her mouth to tell him it was no use arguing, because she wasn't going to leave, but he covered it with a gloved hand before she could. Unable to scowl with his hand over her mouth, she furrowed her brow and fixed her eyes into a cold look. "If anyone does see you, you know they're going to ask questions. And I know you don't want another thing to be taunted for. It would be more evidence against you—"

Vesperra reached up and was prepared to pry Severus's hand from her mouth, but his muscles softened up at once and he let her move his hand away. "I'll lie and say they saw someone else. I mean, they can't really tell for sure from across the field unless they're using binoculars—and look, no one in our own section is looking at us. They'll be too interested in the game."

Just as she said that, the Slytherin team came out onto the pitch, immediately followed by deafening cheers that erupted around them. Vesperra was so startled that she gripped Severus's hand hard, which she was still holding after removing it from her mouth. Amidst the roaring from the Slytherins were boos from the rest of the school, but despite there being over twice as many students booing, the sounds were even due to effort on the Slytherins' part.

Even from up in the stands, she could see the smug look on Malfoy's face as he nodded to egg on the cheering. But it soon died down, only to be started up again once the Gryffindor team came out—except there was much more cheering now, since it was everyone but the Slytherins.

Severus leaned back with a grunt of annoyance at the noise, and Vesperra clutched at her temples, which were aching like hell.

"_This_ is why I hate Quidditch," she said, leaning back with him as the team captains shook hands down on the pitch.

"I'll give you a Headache potion when we get back to my office," said Severus, squeezing her hand back but keeping it out of sight and behind the bench in case anybody was looking. He didn't dare look at her the way he sometimes did when they were alone, since he didn't want to take any more risks than necessary. His heart was already pounding at them being out in the open, even though the surrounding people were oblivious and they were out of sight of anyone who even cared whether or not Vesperra was friends with him.

She looked at him questioningly, and began to open her mouth, but was drowned out by Madam Hooch's whistle and the roar of the crowd as the teams kicked off. When the noise died down some, she said, "So we're spending the day in your office?" It had only been about a month since they had spent more than a couple hours together at a time together, but it felt like longer. Vesperra supposed it would be better this way, because then it would be a treat the few times she _was_ able to spend all day with him.

"If you want to." _What was the point in saying that? Of course she wants to…_ But he had a habit of being a gentleman when it came to her. He turned to her, and she nodded. "And don't worry about Malfoy… In case he decides to stake out my office, you can leave during dinner."

Vesperra nodded again, but silently doubted that Malfoy would go straight to spying on them… He'd probably be in the Common Room talking about the game and bragging—if they won, that is.

But it was very likely they would win, because Adrian Pucey scored and got Slytherin ten points right off the bat. Vesperra watched the Chasers, but her vision was somewhat out of focus, as she was paying more attention to the fact that her hand was still clutching Severus's behind the bench. It seemed stupid to be holding his hand in public, but sort of a thrill came with hiding it from anyone…

Absentmindedly, their fingers shifted to become interlaced with each other's as they watched the game. Pucey had the Quaffle and was zooming towards the goalposts… And then a Bludger started flying towards him, and Vesperra was sure it was about to hit him because the Slytherin Beaters weren't getting there fast enough… But then the Bludger swerved in midair and shot back in the direction it came from.

Severus and Vesperra's eyes followed it up to Potter, who it nearly hit before he dropped and one of the Weasley twins hit it in Malfoy's direction. Vesperra's heart rate went up, as she was extremely hopeful to see Malfoy get hit, but the Bludger swerved again and shot at Potter. He sped up on his broom and flew to the other end of the pitch, and the Bludger followed him as if it were magnetically attracted…

It was then that Severus started panicking. Bludgers were _not_ supposed to go after one person, and it was no coincidence that this one was after Potter. This was just like last year. _Not again._

But it didn't add up—last time, it had been his broom, and it took powerful magic to jinx a broom, especially one like a Nimbus Two-Thousand… but the same couldn't be said for Bludgers. It wasn't that difficult to magically tamper with them… In fact, he'd expect a student to be able to do it…

Involuntarily squeezing Vesperra's hand so hard he could have crushed it, he whipped his head around to her. "Please tell me you didn't do that."

"No—of course I didn't—why do you automatically suspect me?" she said, feeling slightly hurt. The fact that he was hurting her hand didn't register to her, though—actually, she didn't mind it.

"I'm sorry—it's just, you hate Potter, and you seemed a bit… _enthusiastic_ for it to hit him." She had been smirking up at Potter the same way he had seen her smirk at last year's first game…

Vesperra realized that she shouldn't be angry with him for thinking she might have done it, because she definitely _would _have done it if she had had the idea. Besides, it seemed like the sort of thing she'd do… "Well, it's pretty obvious that Malfoy did it, isn't it? Or at least someone on the Slytherin Quidditch team…"

While Potter continued to zoom around the field, chased by the rogue Bludger, and the Gryffindor Beaters were preoccupied with it, the Slytherin team had almost nothing stopping it from scoring goal after goal. In no time, it was already sixty to nothing.

It suddenly started to rain, and heavy drops pelted their heads, plastering their hair to their faces. Vesperra was too busy watching Potter and wishing that the Bludger would break his face to think to pull her hood up—and she really didn't care. The damn Weasley twins never failed to hit it away… But luckily, the Slytherin team had already scored two more goals. It seemed that everyone was watching Potter, though. There was laughing among the Slytherins, and gasping among everyone else.

Even though he was sure now that Voldemort had nothing to do with the Bludger, Severus was also sure it would eventually hit Potter, and that he could likely fall and die. He could have cast a Shield Charm on himself and Vesperra to keep them dry, but he only vaguely noted that it was raining, and was focusing on trying to cast a wandless countercurse on the Bludger. The thing was, though, it was nearly impossible to do so when it was zooming around the pitch just as fast as Potter was.

Finally, Oliver Wood signaled for a time-out, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. All the players dived and landed on the ground, and Madam Hooch managed to get hold of the Bludgers for the moment. Relieved, Severus relaxed his hold on Vesperra's hand. He rolled his thumb tenderly over her fingers, afraid he might have broken some of them. She didn't wince when he did, so he decided that he must not have.

Then, he realized that they were soaking wet. So he pulled out his wand and Vesperra watched him as he did a complicated little wave over them, muttering words under his breath. "We're already pretty soaked, but it's starting to rain even harder… so we won't get any worse, at least," he told her. Now, every raindrop bounced in a different direction once it got an inch away from them.

"Thanks," said Vesperra, her cold eyes lighting up at once and the edges of her lips twitching upward.

The Gryffindor team was huddled together, and the Slytherin team was pointing at them and jeering. Vesperra feared that Malfoy might take this time to scan the crowd, but he must have completely forgotten about her while he had the chance to ridicule Potter. And she didn't think he'd be able to make out her face through all this rain, anyway.

While Vesperra was grateful for the rain, Severus was worried that it would make it even more difficult for Potter to dodge the Bludger, and thus easier for him to die. His worries were confirmed when Madam Hooch blew her whistle and they all kicked off again, and Potter was immediately zigzagging through the air as he climbed. For the first time (well, perhaps the second), Severus was grateful for the boy's flying skills. _Then again,_ he thought, _if he had no flying skills, then he never would have been on the team in the first place…_ Unable to move his eyes as fast as the Bludger or do anything to stop it, he was frozen, just waiting for Potter to get knocked off. He didn't care if that kid got a couple broken bones, but if he got knocked off at that height…

He didn't want to think about it. Severus tried not to squeeze Vesperra's hand that much, as that would show that he was anxious, and she would undoubtedly wonder why he was worried for Potter… But all things considered, he wasn't worried for Potter—he was worried for himself. There were so many times when Severus had wanted to kill him, and he honestly would not give a damn (and would, in fact, be glad) if the boy was maimed and seriously injured enough that he had to be sent home… The only thing Severus cared about was that he was able to keep Lily's son alive. It was just for Lily… and his own selfish desire that only stretched as far as his late beloved and the girl sitting next to him.

The Slytherin team was now up one hundred points to twenty, but hardly anyone was paying attention to anything at eye level. Even non-Slytherins were laughing now, because Potter had to do all sorts of stupid-looking twirls and loops to avoid the unstoppable Bludger that made him look like a right prat. Vesperra didn't laugh, but managed a smirk. Malfoy hung in midair near him, probably stopping to make fun… Though he was wasting time when he could have been looking for the Snitch, Vesperra was glad. There was no way Gryffindor could catch up at this point, so the longer the game dragged out, the more time the Bludger would have to hurt Potter… and badly.

And as it was inevitably sure to happen, the Bludger suddenly collided with Potter, who slid sideways through the air on his broom as if he were about to fall. But he quickly picked himself up and swerved to avoid the Bludger's roundabout attack and dived straight for Malfoy. Many people stood (or jumped, if they were already standing) up in shock, thinking Potter was trying to attack him.

After taking his arms off the broom, Potter seemed to lose control over the it and he headed straight to the ground in an unintentional dive—but Severus's heart rate eased up, because he suddenly knew the boy could not die. He might have if he fell from that height, but his broom wasn't falling vertically. Potter would only collide with the ground, and maybe break a couple bones, but he wouldn't die.

Some yelled in fear, and others watched in awe, hoping for the worst. With a _thud_ audible even from up at the stands, Potter hit the ground and rolled off his broom into the mud. More gasps sounded across the crowd, and then everyone went silent. When he didn't stand after a minute, Madam Hooch flew over to him and bent down. She pried something from his hand, and held it up, making a signal to Lee Jordan.

"It appears that before blacking out, Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins One-hundred and Seventy to One-hundred and Ten!"

Even Vesperra groaned, though not as loudly as the other Slytherins, at that. The rest of the school cheered. People immediately began leaving the stands, mostly to get out of the rain as soon as possible. However angry she was that Gryffindor won, Vesperra couldn't help but smirk as she passed Potter, who was still lying on the ground, now surrounded by his teammates and Lockhart. Malfoy didn't seem to know whether he should be angry or happy either, but then Flint jerked him around and started yelling at him for not seeing the Snitch when it was right next to his head. And now, Vesperra felt that it was worth a loss for Slytherin to have Malfoy take the blame for it.

Severus trailed behind her as they returned to the castle, careful not to get too close to her so no one else would see. With Malfoy preoccupied, they were able to get down to his office without any fear of been spied upon.

Absolutely drenched, Vesperra remained standing so she wouldn't get his couch wet. Severus immediately took her coat off for her and laid it on a chair, then pointed his wand at her—hot air emanated from the tip, drying off her robes. Staring at him peculiarly, Vesperra realized that he was always trying to look out for her. He always did these sort of things without even being asked (as if she would ever ask him), and he didn't say anything… he just did it. And she loved that he did.

Lifting her arm, he took off her glove and set it aside with her coat, then dried off her robe sleeve. Vesperra watched the calmly determined look in his eyes—it was as if nothing mattered more at the moment than getting her dry, not even drying himself. Then, she noticed just how strange he looked with wet hair… The rain had it stuck to his skin, and rather than framing his face as usual, it was clumped together in several thick strands. She figured hers looked the same.

"There," he said as she was completely dried off. It had hardly taken any time—but as she sat down, she noticed that he hadn't done her hair. Not that she cared, but she wondered why… After drying himself off, he strode over to the door that let to his bedroom and, with his hand on the doorknob, said, "Excuse me a moment."

It really was just a moment. Hardly a few seconds after she nodded, he returned and sat on the other end of the couch. Turning so he was sideways on the couch, he sat facing her with his legs crossed.

"Come here," he said quickly yet casually, as if he didn't expect her to question him. Ideas raced through her head, but she didn't dare get her hopes up. Raising an eyebrow, she scooted over to him. "Turn around." Confused, she did as he said and crossed her legs like he was so it would feel less awkward sitting sideways on the couch.

He grabbed her knees and pulled her closer so that she was leaning against his legs, and softly pulled her hair back from her face. Vesperra stiffened, and her face was suddenly flushed. It was a good thing Severus couldn't see it.

"What are you doing?" she asked slowly.

"I'm brushing your hair." He ran the brush he had fetched from his room down her hair, trying his hardest not to hurt her by pulling any out.

"Why?"

"Because I can't dry it until it's untangled… You're teased enough for your hair already, and I didn't want it to be worse at dinner."

"Oh."

Though she really didn't care about her hair or whether or not it was greasy, or if she had split ends (whatever that meant), she really enjoyed sitting there with Severus brushing her hair. Despite her rapidly growing heart rate, her breathing was very even—she was surprised she could breathe at all, though. She began to feel as though she were in a trance, and wished she could just sit there forever.

Severus leaned forward slightly and caught the scent of her wet hair as he brushed it. He didn't know why, but… he liked it. Well, he always liked the smell of rain… but in her hair, it smelt wonderful—or, welcoming… he couldn't describe it. He was about to lean close enough to inhale it directly, but then he felt embarrassed, and mentally smacked himself. Was it wrong to like the smell of her rain-soaked hair? He didn't know, but it didn't feel right. He just felt strange about what Vesperra would think if she turned around and he was sniffing her hair, or if she felt it.

He finished brushing it, and then began to dry it with hot air from his wand. It quickly turned from damp brown to her normal dirty blonde hair, and then he brushed through it again just to make sure. Running his fingers through it, he was surprised—

"It's not greasy anymore," muttered Severus.

"What?"

"It's hardly greasy at all… It feels… normal. Feel it."

She did, and pulled a lock of it in front of her face so she could see it. "How did _that_ happen?"

"…I think it was the rain. So that means we've discovered how to keep our hair from being greasy," said Severus. He continued running his fingers through her hair, feeling how soft it suddenly was. As much as he liked the feel of it, the surprise quickly wore off and he decided that it didn't fit her.

"Great, now everyday, I just have to go out into the rain, let it air-dry a little, brush it, dry it, then brush it again," she scoffed. "It's not worth it."

Smirking, he grabbed the brush again and did his own hair, which he realized would likely end up like Vesperra's. He hoped to God that no one commented on it later… But he was sure Lockhart would. Shuddering at the thought, he began drying his hair.

Vesperra got tired of sitting up, so, nonchalantly, she leaned back into Severus's chest. Folding her hands over her lap, she tilted her head up to see him glance down at her, brushing his now dry hair and smirking. He then finished, set the brush down, and felt his hair. Reaching up, Vesperra felt it as well, and twirled a lock around her finger briefly before letting go. It didn't look much different, but it felt soft—not silky, though… and almost fluffy.

"I prefer your usual hair," she said.

"You prefer it when it's greasy?"

"Yes, actually. I do." Truthfully, he just wasn't her Severus without his greasy hair.

And she wasn't his Vesperra without hers.

* * *

After the ensuing conversation, which frequently dipped into what had happened with Potter, Severus began thinking that it might be practical, in a sense, to tell Vesperra about Lily. That way, she would know never to try and kill Potter.

He didn't doubt that she might try it someday. She had been thoroughly disappointed that—in her own words—"every time Potter has all odds against him, he still doesn't die." But really, he should have been more afraid for Malfoy, who she hated more than anyone else.

The next morning before breakfast, Dumbledore stopped him in the staffroom.

"Severus, last night another student was Petrified—Colin Creevey," said Dumbledore grimly. "A Muggleborn. It cannot be a coincidence… the Chamber must be open again."

"Do the other teachers know?" he asked, face hardening.

"Only Minerva so far. I counted on your punctuality so I could speak to you before the rest arrive. I saw no point in calling you to my office, as there was not much I wanted to say to you alone."

His head was swimming—Severus definitely didn't expect to be greeted with this news on a Sunday morning. "And you still have no idea how he could be in the castle?"

"Alas, I do not."

"Could you guess?"

"I do often guess correctly, don't I?" Dumbledore almost smiled, but this was a serious matter. "But no, because there is nothing to base a guess on. Both the location of the Chamber and what exactly the monster _is_ are unknown. My guess is as good as yours, Severus."

And then Professor Sinistra pushed open the staffroom door, at which Dumbledore promptly walked away from him. Riddled with confusion and dread, Severus followed Dumbledore into the Great Hall for breakfast.

* * *

Saturday night had to have been the best night ever. Actually, considering all that had happened earlier, it was one of the best days ever—for Vesperra, at least. At dinner, Malfoy was being treated close to how _she_ was most of the time. Every Slytherin was angry at him for single-handedly ruining the game.

For a while, he was insulted by most of the Slytherins that walked by him, but then everyone just stopped talking to him and kept shooting him dirty looks. Without Malfoy to lead the rest of them, Vesperra was left alone for the most part. Potter popped up in their conversation a fair few times, but she didn't care to listen and find out who messed with the Bludger. She just appreciated that Malfoy was getting the wrong end of the stick—which he deserved. And she shot him a few smirks that she knew she'd regret later.

Sunday afternoon, however, was probably one of her worst. On her way to the library intending to get some more research done for the curse she was developing, there was a _thump_ against her ribs that she hadn't felt in a while. Obviously she still talked to Severus most nights, but he hadn't written to her through the journals during the day for at least a year. And she knew he wouldn't do so unless it was an emergency or something important.

Luckily she was already near the library, so she was able to find a secluded spot quickly and take her journal out.

* * *

_Dumbledore told me earlier that a kid was Petrified last night. The Chamber of Secrets is open again, so Voldemort must be in the school._

Vesperra realized that she had never heard Severus say Voldemort's name out loud before, so it sounded strange… And then she remembered that they were writing, not talking out loud. That made it stranger.

_**I suspected it myself, but how is that possible?**_

_I'm not sure. He doesn't even have a solid form right now._

_**That's only as far as we know… Last time, he was possessing Quirrell, but Quirrell let him. So I would guess that he's possessing another one of his followers, especially since he'd have to have given them the key beforehand. Could it be one of the teachers?**_

_I can't say for sure that it isn't, even though I've known them all for years. But it doesn't seem likely that Voldemort would have one spy stationed here and then another for backup in case that one dies. And then, of course, there are so many students that it would be impossible to keep track of all of their behavior to see if it was off._

_**If he was possessing anyone, wouldn't that person have him jutting out the back of their head or at least another part of their body?**_

_He would be sharing their body, so I think so. But I don't know anything about magic that Dark. Generally, only phantoms can possess humans, but Voldemort isn't a phantom. Although, he can't be completely human, either, because he didn't die when the curse rebounded on him. I know he wanted to be immortal, but whatever he did to himself to become immortal was Darker magic than I've even heard of._

_**I wouldn't really call it immortal if he became less than a soul afterward. I'd rather be dead than just possessing people all the time. Is there any way he could have gotten a body without possessing someone?**_

_Not that I know of, but Voldemort knew more Dark Magic than anyone in history. I don't doubt that he knows a way. And if he hasn't possessed anyone, that's probably what he's trying to do, since he can't do magic without a body._

_**If he's less than a soul right now, he must be unsubstantial, so couldn't he easily get into Hogwarts in that form? **_

_I suppose he could, but he wouldn't be able to open the Chamber. In that form, the only thing he would be able to do is just float there._

Vesperra imagined Voldemort as a piece of a soul, floating through Hogwarts walls, talking to himself…

_**Severus, what if he's the voice I've been hearing? It would make sense, because he wants to kill Muggleborns, and the voice kept saying it want to kill…**_

_Didn't it also say that it was hungry? And if it was Voldemort, why can only you hear it? _

_**I don't know… Okay, now we're back to having no lead. **_

_We should be used to having no leads by now, since last year, we didn't have one until May. And it turned out to be wrong. _

_**The only difference is that this time, people's lives are at stake. Well, just the Muggleborns, but still.**_

_You don't have a problem with Muggleborns?_

_**No, why would I? Do you?**_

Severus suddenly liked Vesperra a lot more. In fact, he nearly made the impulse decision to tell her all about a certain Muggleborn, but stopped himself. This was not the time.

_Most Slytherins do, because Salazar Slytherin prided blood purity, and therefore most anti-Muggleborns end up in Slytherin. But no, I don't mind them, and I don't think they're unworthy of magic. _

_**What are we supposed to do until we discover how he's in the castle? We don't even know how the Chamber opens, so everything we were just talking about might have been useless. It could be a key, or the Heir of Slytherin might have to put his hand on it, or maybe it's some old runic incantation that only the Heir could know—we have absolutely no idea! **_

_There's really nothing we can do. You and I are completely safe, since we're Half-bloods, but it's my duty to protect the school. The only problem is that I don't know how, and I hate it._

What was worse was that he couldn't tell her the most important part, so she could never know the half of it. It was more than just a duty—it was his life purpose to protect Potter, who would be in danger with Voldemort in the castle. And without knowing how or even what the monster was, how could possibly do that?

_**I'm sorry, Severus, but you know I'll help as much as I can.**_

They both knew this was true, and didn't deny it for one second. Vesperra knew there was stress, pain, and likely death ahead, but Severus was worth anything. And he would have to be an idiot to think that her loyalty to him would ever waver, no matter how many times he'd tell her that she didn't have to go through that for him.

* * *

It was frightening to think that Voldemort was inside the castle, even though Vesperra knew she was perfectly safe. If Voldemort could get in, was it really safe at all?

But nothing happened for weeks except a silent panic among the students—well, some of the students. Malfoy's superiority was soon restored because Slytherin had won enough House points to get in the lead again—about half of which were won by Vesperra. _Figures._

At least half the students had read about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets in _Hogwarts, A History_ or heard it from a friend by then, so all of those who weren't Muggleborns were perfectly confident that they weren't in danger. The remaining half either chose not to believe it or were traveling in tightly knit groups. And though she never saw it happen, she knew that Muggleborns were trading protective devices amongst themselves. Malfoy had been laughing his arse off about it during lunch one day…

"Adrian Pucey told me that he managed to scam _four_ Mudbloods with crystal necklaces yesterday," he had said, laughing all the while. "And they think it's going to _protect them_—Ha! As if anything could stop Slytherin's monster… This is why they don't deserve to learn magic, they're naïve."

The Chamber of Secrets was actually a bit of a joke to most Slytherins. Rather than afraid, they were all intrigued and, generally, glad to think that the school would soon be rid of Muggleborns. And no one hid that they were curious about whom the Heir of Slytherin was—Malfoy was often saying how he wished he could help them and, along with others, tried to ask around the Common Room and see if anyone would admit to it. He couldn't seem to understand why anyone would want to hide it from fellow Slytherins, since they definitely wouldn't turn them in…

And that's when they turned to her. In the initial hype of the rumors flying about, they had all forgotten that she was a Parselmouth. She was expecting this, as everyone knew that Salazar Slytherin was famous for talking to snakes. What she wasn't expecting was to see looks of near admiration when they asked her.

"You haven't been saying anything about the Chamber, Gr—D'Monicas," said Malfoy. Vesperra almost choked on her kippers when she heard him address her by her last name instead of that nickname, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed. "And you—you're a Parselmouth, just like Slytherin was! You're his Heir, aren't you?"

"She _must_ be," Pansy said. "Who else could it be?"

They all stared at her expectantly, and not even Malfoy was attempting to hide his smile. Vesperra glanced around at them, completely overwhelmed that they all suddenly seemed to _like_ her, just because they thought she was the Heir of Slytherin. She had never even seen so many people look at her like that. Severus had certain looks that he reserved for her, and there were a handful of people that didn't don a look of disgust when they saw her (not including teachers), but to have them all admire and possibly _worship_ her…

For a moment, she considered telling them that she _was_ indeed the Heir of Slytherin. Then, they would all treat her even better than they usually treated Malfoy, and they would never call her that nickname again, and they wouldn't care whether she was friends with Severus or not… And she'd be idolized by the Slytherins—better yet, feared.

But for every person that likes you, there are three that hate you. Word would spread around and soon everyone but the Slytherins would hate her… Then the teachers would start to suspect and one of them would take her to Dumbledore, who'd then be forced to tell the school that Vesperra had been lying about being Slytherin's Heir. She shuddered to think what Severus would say to her… Besides, they'd ask her all sorts of questions that she wouldn't be able to answer, like what the monster _was_.

Pushing aside thoughts of Crabbe and Goyle fanning her and Malfoy feeding her grapes, she said, "No, I'm not." But their smiles only faltered slightly.

"You don't need to lie!" Malfoy assured her. "We're not going to turn you in when we want the Mudbloods out of Hogwarts too—!"

"But I don't even want them out," she argued. "I don't have any problem with Muggleborns, and I'm _not_ the Heir of Slytherin." Trying to establish a 'the discussion is over' sense at the table, she promptly looked down at her plate and acted as if they weren't all still staring at her. Still, they thought she must have been lying, and persisted.

"How can you be a Parselmouth, then?" asked Tracey in a tone that suggested she either didn't care or didn't remember the incident in which they discovered that she was a Parselmouth. The others nodded in approval of the question and looked at her more intently.

Vesperra hated to tell them things she considered personal, but anything to get them off her back… "It's not inherited—I just am. And Malfoy,"—she turned to him—"You've said that your father knows all about the last time it was opened… Don't you think he would have told you if the person that opened it last time was _my _mum or one of my grandparents?"

He didn't speak for a second. But then he opened his mouth as if he were about to, closed it, and opened it again, now entirely changing his expression. "And you don't know who it is?"

"No idea," lied Vesperra dryly just before taking a gulp of pumpkin juice. She had promised Dumbledore that she wouldn't tell anyone about the last time the Chamber was opened, and she wasn't going to break it.

There was a short silence.

"Well thanks for _nothing_, Grease-perra." Following Malfoy's cue, they all relaxed in their seats and let their anxious expressions drop. However, most of them gave her calculating looks as though they still believed she was the Heir of Slytherin.

It was better this way, she supposed. And now, they could suspect all they wanted and still fear her somewhat, but she doubted they would spread it around the school. She never fancied the idea of people fawning over her, anyway… It would be annoying.

Vesperra was glad that she'd be rid of them all, especially Malfoy, when the Holidays started—except she wouldn't. When McGonagall came around collecting names for those who would be staying at school during Christmas, Vesperra watched with dread as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle put their names down. She nearly called McGonagall back to take her name off, but she couldn't go back to her parents, and she'd actually been looking forward to spending the Holidays with Severus.

Most of the school had hurried to sign their names, so Vesperra was pretty much left with Malfoy and his cronies, and Potter and his group of friends. She tried not to think about that, but of the coming weeks where most of the school would be gone—and also Thursday afternoon, when she had Double Potions.

* * *

Whether even half the class was ready or not, Severus had the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors progress to Swelling Solutions this week. As this was more difficult than most of the things they had done, it was easy to make mistakes. Nearly everyone did, but he only pointed them out in the Gryffindors', as usual.

The advantage of having Vesperra sit in the desk closest to his was that he didn't have to stand next to her so long to observe her closely. And he often did observe her closely, because he loved the way she worked. Her eyes were always intently focused, flicking sharply from the board, to her notes, to her ingredients, and to her cauldron—and nowhere else, except occasionally him. He loved watching her precise movements, and the way she never eye-balled it, though it didn't take her long to measure exactly… But of course she wasn't perfect. She _did_ make mistakes sometimes—but she fixed them. Whenever something happened that shouldn't have, she always made sort of a scowl, but then looked like she was deep in thought for a minute. And then she added something or did something to the potion, and looked wholly satisfied with herself.

But he couldn't spend all day sitting at his desk and watching her. As Severus passed her and bent down to peer into her cauldron, he noticed that, as usual, she continued working, although slower as if afraid of making a mistake with him right there. She turned her head slightly so she could glance at him from an angle, and he gave her a smirk to tell her it was perfect before walking off.

Vesperra always looked forward to Potions classes specifically because of Severus, but it was difficult to focus with him looming over her and practically breathing on her neck. Sometimes it seemed as though he did that on purpose… But no one else stiffened up when he stood directly behind them—except for Longbottom, but it was out of fear. She guessed that it was because she was used to focusing only on him when they spent time together. Trying not to dwell on it, she put all her conscious effort into crushing up scorpion stingers.

Prowling through the thick fumes of the dungeon, Severus saw that Malfoy was paying less attention to his Swelling Solution and more to flicking puffer-fish eyes at Potter and Weasley. His aim was actually quite good, because each of the eyes hit one of them in the back of the head. Pretending not to notice, he found Granger and tried hard to find something wrong with her potion. There wasn't.

Then he came across Potter, and paused. "While the assignment was not to create _water_, it appears you have managed that, Potter," he sneered while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Severus made a couple more remarks about the runny potion, then continued his fun with Longbottom, who was near the back.

"Once again, Longbottom, you have proved yourself of abysmal ignorance," said Severus to the shaking boy. "Tell me, you _moron_, can you read? The board clearly says that the potion calls for three stingers, not _thirteen_. If you had the slightest bit of common sense, you—"

There was an explosion behind him, followed by several screams and loud clanking. Severus whipped around and saw Goyle blundering around and knocking things over with his hands over his eyes, which were now the size of dinner plates. Malfoy was weighted down to his desk with an enormous nose, and looked as if he were about to cry. At least half the class seemed to have been splashed with Goyle's Swelling Solution, including Vesperra.

"Silence! SILENCE!" he roared over the noise of the chaos, and everyone stopped moving and shut up at once. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft—when I find out who did this—" Severus strode immediately to his desk, and reached inside his robes for the antidote.

A bit of the Swelling Solution had splashed all the way across and hit Vesperra's hand just as it was hovering over her cauldron. She felt a burning sensation as her skin expanded and her usually slender hand had quickly swollen so that it looked like she was wearing a very thick flesh-colored glove. She hurried up to Severus's desk, and was the first one there to take a swig of the antidote. Vesperra noticed that she had one of the lesser embarrassing swellings, as some students were hunched over with arms like clubs, and others had gigantic puffed-up lips. Smirking nastily at Malfoy, whose nose was now over five times as large as hers, she returned to her seat and waited for her hand to shrink back to its normal size.

Severus noticed that the rest of the students lined up were reluctant to take the antidote bottle after Vesperra's lips had been on it. Malfoy looked absolutely disgusted at the thought, and wiped the rim with his robes before swigging it. Soon, everyone had taken some and went back to their desks, waiting for their swellings to subside.

Sweeping himself like a large bat over to Goyle's cauldron, Severus reached inside and, with his long, spidery fingers, scooped out twisted, scorched remains of what looked like a Filibuster firework. Every head in the dungeon was turned towards him, and there was a sudden hush. A sense of dread filled the room as Severus narrowed his eyes at the firework.

"If I ever find out who threw this," he whispered, though his voice penetrated the silence very clearly, "I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled." He swept his fathomless eyes over the students before striding back to his desk and sitting down with such a harshness that made sure that everyone understood how angry he was.

The firework… that had been just like last year, when the same thing happened to Vesperra—except it hit her textbook, not her cauldron. But Thomas and Finnigan wouldn't be stupid enough to do that again… No, it was Potter, and he knew it. Severus glared at the boy, both to analyze his face and to tell him that he knew it was him. His expression was obvious… Once again, he was guilty, but he was _not _going to get away with it this time. He couldn't prove that Potter had done it, but he had other means of giving that brat what he deserved. And what he wanted to know first was, _why?_ No one would dare cause mayhem in his classroom unless they had a death wish or if it were something really important…

Meanwhile, Vesperra's hand had gone back to normal, and she started to resume working on the potion, which she had nearly finished, but it was ruined. Goyle's Swelling Solution obviously hadn't been done correctly, and some of it got into hers when it splashed everywhere. The fumes had gone and it was now sizzling into a dark green—

"This is _useless_!" she hissed quietly, her face twisting into a scowl. She didn't know where exactly Goyle had gone wrong in his potion, so she had no idea how to fix it. Infuriated, she gripped the edge of the desk and clenched her teeth. A lot of other people's potions had been ruined (or improved, in Longbottom's case) too, but she hated to see anything she worked on go to waste. In jerky, irritable movements, she cleared off her table and returned jars of ingredients to the student cupboard, then dumped out her ruined potion.

When the bell rang, most of the class still had potions to fill a flask with, and turned it in ruined or not. Vesperra made to leave after the rest in a huff, but Severus put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and closed the door.

"Why didn't you turn in anything?" he asked. He had just looked through the labeled flasks and didn't see any with her name on it.

"It was pointless," said Vesperra angrily. "Some of Goyle's potion got in it and ruined it… I just want to know who threw the firework so I can—"

"Yours was perfect before that happened, so you still have full marks—there's never even been a lesson where I _didn't_ give you full marks." He didn't really want to know what she had been about to say, but she had raised her hand like a claw and was about to clench her fingers, so he had a good guess. "And I _know_ who it was—Potter," he growled.

"Are you sure?" she said, though she didn't doubt it was him.

"Positive. I just wish I knew why…"

"Maybe he was aiming for Malfoy—he's not the only person that would like to throw something at him."

Raising an eyebrow, he thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps," said Severus. "I could have underestimated his stupidity… But after all Potter's done this year, and he _dares_—" He stopped in mid sentence, looked down at Vesperra, and relaxed his face slightly. "You need to get to your next class. And please _don't_ try to hurt Potter, in case you were planning to—I'll deal with him myself."

To his surprise, she didn't argue, and instead nodded. Still seething over Potter, Vesperra walked to the door and, with a short wave goodbye, left to Transfiguration.

* * *

**I hope you weren't too freaked out by Vesperra's on-the-spot poem... I thought the chapter could use a little Dark humor. You should know by now that Vesperra likes that kind of thing... I bet she would _love_ Dead Baby jokes. **

**Please review! I want to see what you think of this chapter, if you have any theories, any constructive criticism, etc... Please!**

**In the next chapter: Dueling Club, Christmas**

**Oh, and with Christmas coming up, what do you think Severus and Vesperra will want? ;D**


	22. Book 2: Chapter 8

**Thanks for all your reviews, guys! I'm up to 54 now... but seriously, if you don't review, _please_ do. I know that at least twice as many people as the ones who review read this fic and like it. I do like detailed reviews, but if you could just leave one saying that you like the story, that would be great. A lot of people will be searching for stories, and once they see that there's not many reviews, they automatically don't want to read it. So by reviewing this story, you're giving it heavier traffic and therefore allowing the number of reviews to grow exponentially. Or something like that.**

**And I want to respond to one person that reviewed that didn't have an account.  
****_Amy_: Just because you don't like Dead Baby jokes doesn't mean that no one has that sort of sense of humor. It doesn't mean that having that sense of humor makes you a bad person, either. Personally, I love them. I have a lot of friends that do as well. And if you pay attention to this story, Vesperra would definitely like them.**

* * *

"Headmaster, I don't feel that I would be doing my part as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher if I wasn't teaching the students everything I know, and I thought it would be _wonderful_ if I could start a Dueling Club!"

Lockhart was speaking with rather a lot of pride for a person who hadn't even been able to fend off Cornish Pixies. It was Tuesday afternoon, and a handful of teachers were in the staffroom, trading paperwork, sitting down for a few minute's conversation, and having a bit of coffee. But it was difficult to have a conversation with Lockhart in the room, because he hardly left anyone their privacy. And when he was having conversations with other people, especially about what he would call 'important matters,' he made sure to speak loudly so everyone could hear just how important he was.

Severus snorted into his coffee, and nearly sucked it in so fast that it burnt his throat. _Everything he knows? That's enough information to fill a matchstick…_

"Those children are a bit lacking in dueling skills, and who better than I to teach them?" continued Lockhart. He then flashed Dumbledore a smile, which was obvious even to those that couldn't see his face at the moment. The way his head moved back and put his hands on his hips… he always did that.

"Oh, I don't know, anyone?" said Severus, setting his mug of coffee down but not moving from where he sat. His icy voice struck the room into silence and seemed to reverberate in the air for a moment as everyone looked to him. A few moments passed and the feeling was gone, and a couple teachers stifled laughs, hiding it by taking a sip of their coffee. "You might as well allow the Giant Squid into the castle to teach the students to duel, Headmaster."

It was rude, it was cruel, and even though everyone hated Lockhart, it was uncalled for. But Severus didn't care—he couldn't help but say it. Besides, he was known for being rude and cruel.

"Severus, always the man with a wry sense of humor!" Lockhart said happily, with one hand on his hip and the other ticking a mockingly reproving finger at Severus. There was an audible sigh amongst the staff present as they turned away, not wanting to be part of this. A few even left. "You'd be quite surprised at how much experience I have—"

"How could I be, when you're constantly boasting about your _many_ adventures?" Severus asked snidely, doubting that half the 'adventures' had even truly happened.

"Aha—exactly! We're all aware of my expertise, so why not pass on some of that to the students?" Lockhart spun around to face Dumbledore again, and spoke with obnoxious hand gestures. "Well, do I have your permission, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in Severus's direction before he nodded and smiled. "I think it's a wonderful idea, Gilderoy. It'll be a useful and fun experience for anyone who chooses to participate—are you sure you'll have everything under control?"

"Actually, I _would_ like an assistant to help me demonstrate… Severus, do you know anything about dueling?"

He scowled. For Severus to say that he 'knew something about dueling' would be an enormous understatement—he knew more curses than Lockhart had ever even claimed to have dealt with. He used to be the Dark Lord's right-hand man… he had learned many techniques from Voldemort himself. He could block almost any spell with a casual flick, and could even use Legilimency to know what spell his opponent was about to cast.

But he definitely wasn't going to tell Lockhart any of that. "You'd be quite surprised at my experience," said Severus.

Clapping his hands together cheerfully, Lockhart said, "Excellent, you'll be my assistant, then?"

_Assistant?_ Severus would never be someone's _assistant_, least of all Lockhart's. "Like hell I—"

"Why Severus, I'd think you'd be grateful for a chance to help out Gilderoy," Dumbledore cut in. "You've wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for years, and now you can."

He was about to retort, but held it back so his lip merely twitched. Dumbledore was right, he _had_ been after that job, but this would be helping out Lockhart when Lockhart should be the one assisting him. Actually, Severus wouldn't have ever chosen Lockhart as an assistant. And with that man running it, everything would be chaos… But then, it occurred to him that he could use it as an opportunity to humiliate Lockhart. Even if he had refused, he had a feeling that Dumbledore would force him.

"Alright, fine…" he muttered, turning away from both of them and taking another sip of coffee. After a couple seconds, he felt a hand on his shoulder, which turned out to be Lockhart's.

"Great! The first lesson should be before the Holidays, I think," said Lockhart, grinning widely. "How about tomorrow evening, Severus?"

He tried to jerk his shoulder out of Lockhart's hand, but the man was gripping too hard. "Fine," he said irritably.

Suddenly, Lockhart gave a small yelp and released his hand at once at if it were burnt. As he looked at his hand, Severus glanced at him and saw that his expression was somewhat frightened for the moment being. But then he smiled roguishly again and went back to Dumbledore.

Severus touched his shoulder lightly, but felt nothing. Had he just used unintentional magic? That hadn't happened in a while… It's not as if he wanted to stop it, anyway. But he supposed even he couldn't control his anger sometimes.

Hours later, after afternoon lessons, dinner, and grading essays, he decided that he wanted to talk to Vesperra. Since the Slytherin team had lost the first match, there were no longer any Quidditch practices for Malfoy. They refused to only talk through the journals and never see each other outside of class, however, so they had devised a new plan. Vesperra would leave her Common Room and, if Malfoy was in there, wait outside the empty stone wall for a few minutes in case he came out after. If he didn't, she deemed it safe to visit him without being spied upon. He'd have liked to have her sitting with him tonight, but it wasn't necessary. That's what weekends were for.

In the meantime, hearing her voice without seeing her face was just fine.

* * *

_I think I'm going to have to clean my shoulder with acid, or at least cut it off and burn it._

_**Why?**_

_Because Lockhart touched it._

_**Which shoulder was it?**_

_What does that have to do with it?_

_**Well, I prefer your left shoulder. It wasn't your left shoulder, was it?**_

_Actually, it was. Now, tell me why you prefer my left shoulder?_

Vesperra felt like an idiot for having said that, even though it was jokingly. Her heart was suddenly lodged in her throat, as she really didn't want to say 'because it's the shoulder I always lay my head against, and it extends to the hand I love to hold so bloody much.' But she didn't have to say anything, she had to write it. And she could lie. She forced herself to calm down before writing back, because otherwise he would hear her choked, nervous voice when he got the message.

_**Well, I usually sit on your left side, so it would be weird sitting on the side that only has a bit of skin and sinew holding your arm to your body.**_

_You could always sit on my right._

_**I did at the Quidditch game, and it felt odd. Why was Lockhart touching your shoulder, anyway?**_

_He was just being overly friendly, as usual. And he wanted me to assist him in the Dueling Club he's starting._

_**Are you going to?**_

_Against my better judgment, yes. I see it as a good chance to humiliate him, and technically I'm finally teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. _

_**If Potter comes, you could easily humiliate him, too. That'll be a much better punishment than any detention you could give him. **_

_I actually hadn't thought about it, but now I'm definitely going to do that. The first lesson is tomorrow, will you come?_

_**Of course! Seeing you humiliate Lockhart and Potter would be like an early Christmas present. Where and when?**_

Hearing the words 'Christmas present' struck a nerve and started a series of gears in Severus's mind. He hadn't thought that much about the Holidays, mostly because it was a habit from living several years without anyone he could consider close to him. Those years, he had absolutely hated Christmas… He still did, but he hated it a bit less now that he had Vesperra to spend it with. Neither of them were used to having even a decent Christmas, and the only one he'd had in years was the last… So did either of them really need presents?

_The first lesson's tomorrow night at eight in the Great Hall. And speaking of Christmas, I don't want any presents. If you've already gone to any trouble to get me one, I won't mind, but what I'd prefer is your company on Christmas Day._

_**That's alright. I haven't gotten you anything yet, and I don't want any presents either. Besides, your birthday is hardly two weeks afterward. I'll get you a present then.**_

_You really don't have to._

_**Alright, I'll tell you that I'm not getting you anything, but I'll get you something anyway and force you to take it.**_

_How do you propose you force me?_

_**It depends on the present. I haven't decided yet.**_

_I have to admit, I'm sort of scared now._

_**You wouldn't have to be if you just agree that you'll take whatever I decide to give you. Who knows, I might decide not to get you anything if you keep being a jerk.**_

_Oh, please. I'm a jerk to everyone but you. And you like seeing me be a jerk to people… It's a good thing sarcasm travels through the journals, isn't it?_

_**I do love seeing you be a jerk to people… But I wouldn't call it being a jerk. It's more like being nasty and cruel.**_

_Flattery will get you nowhere. _

_**Who said I intended to get anywhere?**_

It went on like this for the night, as usual. More than she admitted it, Vesperra enjoyed the conversations they could have that weren't imbued with dread. She liked the nights where they could just talk and make snide comments not to deal with whatever was coming, but for fun.

* * *

The next day, some time after dinner, Dumbledore Vanished the House tables and replaced them with a golden stage along one wall, along with other decorations, in preparation for the Dueling Club. Lockhart had insisted that he do it himself, but Dumbledore politely refused, as he needed to make sure everything was perfect. Severus snorted and did nothing to hide it.

"That all seems to be in order," said Dumbledore as the last few sparks fell from his wand. "Good luck, Gilderoy…" He started to walk out of the Great Hall, but stopped by Severus and said quietly, "Behave yourself, won't you?"

_Behave myself?_ Before Severus could translate his thoughts into words, Dumbledore had left, leaving him to seethe. _Behave myself, my arse… He's talking to me like I'm some schoolboy—I can behave myself just fine! What does he think I'll do, kill Lockhart? Like I'd be stupid enough to do that in front of all the students that come to this… If I did, it would be in the Forbidden Forest or a dark alley somewhere…_

"I'll have to leave too, Severus," said Lockhart from behind him, at which he slowly and reluctantly turned around, scowling. "Oh, don't worry—I won't be gone that long, so you won't have to start without me… I just thought I should go change into better robes. Ooh—you should, too." He paused a moment to pinch the fabric on the chest of Severus's robes, frown slightly, then smile and leave.

Lips pursed oddly and nose wrinkled in absolute disgust, Severus looked down at his robes where Lockhart touched them. He smoothed it down roughly, as if that would remove any trace of Lockhart's fingers having been there.

There was a little less than half an hour before eight. Severus didn't know how many students would come or how early the earliest of them would be, and he didn't want to leave and then wade his way back through a tightly packed crowd… So he decided to stay. He walked towards the corner of the Great Hall that was half-hidden by the stage, but before he could get far, he heard footsteps echoing behind him.

* * *

Severus kept walking, but turned his head back just to see whether it was a student or if Lockhart had returned already. He saw Vesperra, but didn't process it at first. After a double-take, he whirled around, delightfully surprised. She was completely alone.

"You're here early," he said, walking towards her.

Vesperra glanced around at the Great Hall. It looked very strange when it was completely empty except for a stage and thousands of candles hovering above it… And it was even stranger that she was alone in such a large room with Severus. She couldn't be the first one here, could she…? "I wanted to get here before there was a crowd, so I could be up front," said Vesperra, smirking. "Where's Lockhart?"

"Off making himself look prettier," muttered Severus.

Vesperra decided not to comment on that. Instead, she folded her arms, walked over to Severus's left side, and reached up to touch his shoulder. "Hmm. It doesn't feel like you cut it off…"

"I figured I ought not to, since you apparently like it…" He lightly patted her hand on his shoulder, and began walking towards the corner he had been earlier, leading her with a hand in between her shoulder blades. "Though it wouldn't be half as bad as Lockhart touching my nose, because then I'd have to cut _that_ off—"

"Don't even_ joke_ about that," said Vesperra seriously. There was a somewhat dangerous look on her face as she continued, "He _didn't_—?"

"No, of course not. He'd be dead the moment his hand came within five inches of my face… But just before you got here, he touched the front of my robes." Severus scowled and gestured to his chest.

Feeling a sudden surge of anger towards Lockhart, Vesperra absentmindedly flexed her fingers. They sat down at the chairs in the corner of the Great Hall, which was still empty and silent except for the subtle resonance of their voices echoing throughout it.

"What this time?" she asked, frowning.

"Just grabbing them for a closer examination," he said, miming what Lockhart did, "and suggesting that _I_ go change robes as well… I think he wears some sort of cologne, because I can still smell it in here."

Vesperra sniffed the air—she could smell it too. Leaning into Severus, she lightly grabbed the spot of his robes that he had gestured to, and smelt them. She frowned again and sat straight, smoothing his robes back down. There was a bit of a fruity scent on him… she did _not _want Severus's scent tainted by essence of Lockhart.

"So, do you think the rest of the school will hate you more or less for humiliating him?" She was immediately in a better mood, and smirked as she thought of what would happen.

"Probably an even split between both… It depends how badly he's embarrassed. It takes a lot to wipe that stupid little smile off his face," he growled.

"Whatever you do to him, make sure he's physically hurt… Maybe break a few bones."

"Dumbledore told me to behave myself."

"Compared to what you _could_ do, you would be behaving yourself…"

"Well, killing him wouldn't necessarily humiliate him, anyway. But I'll do whatever I can."

Vesperra let out a derisive laugh, and said, "Good luck." She had an impulse spark of boldness and began to stand up and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek for extra luck, but she had hardly moved when they heard more footsteps and voices just beyond the Great Hall. They shared a slightly disappointed look before Vesperra left him and went around to stand next to the middle of the stage.

The group of students that came in were some older Ravenclaws—she should have figured. _They couldn't have decided to come five seconds later?_ Partially, Vesperra blamed herself for not being brave enough. She could still have given him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of that little spot with him, but she had chickened out once she heard voices… but bravery was for Gryffindors. She was a Slytherin, and therefore self-preservation mattered more to her. But she would have liked that spark of bravery to have lasted longer.

Vesperra leaned against the stage as the Ravenclaws found a spot on one end of the stage and talked excitedly. More students, either alone or in groups, entered the Great Hall, all with their wands already drawn. As eight o'clock neared, it became more frequent, and she was really glad that she had come so early, because it seemed like most of the school was coming. At some point, Lockhart arrived and shuffled along the sides of the large room to get around to the space next to the stage where Severus was.

Severus could do nothing but sit there and wait while the Great Hall became more and more packed. It wasn't until a few minutes before eight that Lockhart returned, now wearing plum robes and with his hair looking as if he had put in even more hair-care products. Luckily, he didn't mention anything about Severus not taking his advice.

"Miss me?" said Lockhart, grinning.

"No," Severus answered.

"Well," Lockhart continued, looking at his watch, "It's near eight, I suppose we'll wait a few more minutes."

Meanwhile, Vesperra waited impatiently for the Dueling Club to begin.

"I didn't expect _you_ to be here, Grease-perra," drawled a voice from behind her. She turned around to see Malfoy, who had just jostled his way through the crowd along with most of the other second year Slytherins. "I'm surprised you're not hiding in your bat cave, as usual."

For a moment, Vesperra was confused, having figured that they would all expect her to be there since Severus was. But then, she realized that she was the only one who already knew Severus was there. They discovered soon enough, anyway.

Hardly a minute later, Lockhart and Severus walked onto the stage, and there were some gasps among the students, both of excitement and dread. Severus hadn't expected nearly the entire student body to come… He stood beside Lockhart, suddenly wishing he hadn't agreed to come, and scowled, folding his arms.

"Gather round, gather round!" called Lockhart, waving an arm for silence, though Severus's presence was keeping most of the students quiet already. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works."

Down in the crowd, Vesperra groaned inwardly. She ignored the hisses and jeers from Malfoy and the others about Severus, though it was difficult when they were pushing her roughly to the side.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued, smiling widely and gesturing to Severus. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry—you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Lockhart's the one we should be fearing for," whispered Malfoy, voicing exactly what Vesperra was thinking. "What an idiot…"

Severus's lip was curling horribly as his irritability rose. Lockhart, however, was still smiling and looked foolishly unafraid. The two walked so they were a good distance away from each other, then turned to face the other. While Lockhart bowed, twirling and flourishing his hands, Severus jerked his head and raised his wand like a sword. His black eyes glittered malevolently, which was easily noticed by Vesperra, whose eyes did the same.

There was a foreboding silence among the students, as everyone in Hogwarts knew that the first to cross Professor Snape was the first to die. Even those who loved Lockhart understood that Severus was a much more talented wizard who did not like to be portrayed as 'second best.'

But Lockhart spoke through the silence, unaware of his circumstances. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position. On the count of three we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, or course."

By the sound of coughs, shuffling, and muttering throughout the crowd, most people doubted that. Severus was annoyed to the point of baring his teeth, which contrasted greatly with Lockhart's straight and perfectly white ones.

"One—two—three—"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed it at the other, but before Lockhart could utter a word, Severus cried, "_Expelliarmus!_" A flash of scarlet light shot from his wand and blasted the other man off his feet and backward off the stage. He smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

A lot of the Slytherins surrounding Vesperra cheered, and while her heart was doing leaps, she merely smirked. And she couldn't help but laugh. Lockhart appeared dead for a moment, but had started to get unsteadily to his feet. Disheveled with his hair standing on end and his hat somewhere on the ground, he stumbled back onto the stage. Severus couldn't hide his satisfaction, either, and was sneering. He glanced at Vesperra, and could see her eyes flash as they moved from Lockhart to him.

"Well, there you have it!" said Lockhart in a slightly shaken voice, though he was regaining his usual confident stature. "That was a Disarming Charm—as you see, I've lost my wand—" A Gryffindor girl shuffled up to the stage and reached out her arm to hand Lockhart something. "—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy—however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Severus felt murderous, and Vesperra could see it on his face. Neither of them could believe that Lockhart dared say that he was going easy on Severus, even though they really shouldn't have been surprised. But nevertheless, it was just plain aggravating that a man like Lockhart existed.

He proved not to be a complete idiot when he took one look at Severus's expression and faltered a moment before saying, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me—" Lockhart was saved the trouble of continuing when Severus stepped off the platform.

While Lockhart went and matched up the right side of the Great Hall, Severus matched up the left. He made sure to get to Vesperra first, and grabbed her shoulder. His thumb firmly gripped her collarbone out of habit, but not so firm that it hurt, and his index finger held the back of her neck so that he could have easily choked her. He was careful to make it seem harsh enough that it wouldn't seem like a sign of closeness.

"Miss D'Monicas, you can—" Severus glanced around quickly, and set his eyes upon one student, then directed her to him. "You can partner Thomas." Smirking, he let go of her and walked off to partner up more students.

Vesperra's eyes flashed with a mad glint at her partner as she rolled her wand in between her fingers. Thomas looked less than willing to duel her, probably because he was remembering what she had inadvertently done to his best friend. Actually, anyone forced to duel her would be foolish not to look afraid. They stood in silence, glaring at each other and waiting for Lockhart to give the say-so that they could start.

Near the back, Severus found Potter and his friends, and strode up to them at once.

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter—" The boy automatically moved toward the Granger girl, and Severus smirked yet again. "I don't think so. Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger—you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

After everyone had been partnered with someone else and they were all spaced evenly in the Great Hall, Lockhart returned to the stage. "Wands at the ready!" he shouted. " When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents—only to disarm them—we don't want any accidents—one… two… three—"

Taking advantage of her chance to fight without fear of detention, Vesperra decided to try out the half-developed spell she had been working on. Sure that it couldn't kill Thomas and prepared to take it off as soon as it seemed to work, she jerked her wand up and muttered words under her breath before the other boy could do anything.

His face contorted in pain and he clutched at his throat, falling backwards. Vesperra was suddenly excited, for it had worked somewhat, but took it off so Thomas would not die. It seemed that mostly everyone had done something other than disarm their opponent, and Lockhart tried to restore order.

"_I said disarm only!_" shouted Lockhart in alarm, while Severus did nothing, because he was watching Potter and Malfoy, anxious to see the latter triumphant.

But the moment Thomas had the air in his lungs to speak again, he pointed his wand at her and hit Vesperra with the Jelly-Legs Jinx.

Her legs were useless, and they wobbled around until she fell. But she quickly pushed herself to a sitting position with her arms and pointed her wand at Thomas once again. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" Arms and legs snapping together, he fell over, stiff as a board. Vesperra would have gotten up to stand over his body triumphantly, if only her legs would stay still. She settled for sitting with a twisted smile.

Duels raged on around them, and they were getting out of hand. "Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, still unable to control them. Severus watched the chaos lazily for a moment, happy that Lockhart was struggling. _He doesn't handle responsibility very well, does he? No, he's definitely not a proper authority figure… He doesn't command half the respect that I can._

Taking charge, Severus waved his wand in the air and shouted, "_Finite Incantatem!_" Greenish smoke emerged from his wand, and it eventually covered the entire Great Hall in a haze. It was the more complex variation of the spell, so the effects of all the spells on everyone were lifted within seconds.

Vesperra's legs felt normal again, and Dean Thomas was no longer under the Body-Bind. Around them, many students were sitting or lying on the floor, panting, covered in something gross, or bleeding. They were among the few that looked completely fine.

Still trying to act as though he was in charge even though he definitely wasn't fit to be, Lockhart moved through the crowd to examine the aftermath of the duels. Severus could honestly say that this was the first time he was glad that the majority of the students had disregarded the rules—well, they were Lockhart's rules. But because of it, he had had the chance to remind them all that he was still in charge—Lockhart just _thought_ that he was, like a small child that had been given fake responsibilities by their parents to make them feel important.

"I think I'd better teach you how to _block_ unfriendly spells," said Lockhart as he stood in the middle of the Great Hall, looking flustered with his hands on his hips. Severus's eyes glinted as the man glanced at him, and he quickly looked away. _That's smart of him, he's finally learned to fear me… _"Let's have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you—"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Severus as he glided over, feeling like this would be an opportune moment. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley in a matchbox… How about Malfoy and Potter?" His lips curled into a twisted smile. Far to the left of him, Vesperra watched with anticipation.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, obviously trying once again to appear as though he knew what he was doing. He gestured Malfoy and Potter into the clearing in the middle of the hall, and the crowd backed away to give them room.

Turning to Potter, Lockhart said, "Now, Harry. When Draco points his wand at you, you do this." He raised his wand, wiggled it in a complicated wiggling movement that resembled nothing Severus had ever seen used for a spell, and dropped it. Some of the students—mainly Slytherins—sniggered, and Severus and Vesperra smirked as Lockhart picked it up, saying, "Whoops—my wand is a little overexcited—"

_What an awful excuse for a teacher,_ thought Vesperra._ Can't handle a bunch of students, isn't skilled in magic in the slightest, and calling the students by their first names… that's so unprofessional._ It was completely different than her and Severus—they were close, whereas Lockhart wasn't close to anyone but himself.

Severus moved closer to Malfoy and bent down to whisper in his ear some advice of his own. "I believe your father has already taught you the Snake-Summoning spell, hasn't he?" Malfoy smirked as well, and Severus straightened up and strode far behind him.

Vesperra felt a sudden surge of jealousy, and couldn't help but get angry, too. _Severus said he hated him… But he obviously hates Potter more, and it's just a matter of humiliating him instead of Malfoy, so I shouldn't be angry…_ But she was. Still, she tried to let it go and just watch.

"Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?" asked Potter, sounding nervous.

"Just do what I did, Harry!" said Lockhart merrily.

"What, drop my wand?"

Lockhart ignored him and said, "Three—two—one—go!"

"_Serpensortia!_" bellowed Malfoy as he quickly raised his wand. A long black snake shot out of it, landed heavily on the floor, and raised itself, ready to strike. People screamed and backed away into the crowd, clearing the floor, but Vesperra stayed where she was, not fearing or minding the snake, and raised one eyebrow at the others.

Enjoying the sight of Potter standing motionless with fear, Severus gave it a few seconds before interfering. This sort of humiliation wasn't quite as intense as he would prefer to give him as punishment for the Swelling-Solution incident, but it was the most he could do. "Don't move, Potter," he said lazily. "I'll get rid of it…"

But before he could raise his wand, which he had been doing slowly, Lockhart said, "Allow me!" and brandished his own at the snake. It didn't Vanish, but there was a loud bang and the snake flew ten feet in the air, landing even angrier than before. Hissing furiously, it slithered towards a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again to strike.

Vesperra didn't hate or even know Justin, so she couldn't honestly say she was eager for the snake to attack him, but in any situation, she would root for a snake over a Hufflepuff. Severus had been about to Vanish it himself, but stopped when Potter quickly walked towards the snake and made a strangled hissing noise.

However, Vesperra didn't hear a hissing noise—Potter had clearly said, "Leave him alone!" As the snake slumped to the floor, the Slytherins around her inhaled sharply and looked from Potter to her. The rest of the Great Hall had gasped a little before going dead silent as well, and even Severus looked confused. She seemed to be the only one not acting weird… what was going on?

Finch-Fletchley looked scared and angry rather than grateful, and shouted, "What do you think you're playing at?" He stormed out of the hall, leaving Vesperra bewildered.

_What's wrong with everybody?_ she wondered, glancing around. _And why did that snake actually listen to Potter?_

Severus stepped forward and waved his wand, causing the snake to Vanish in a puff of black smoke. He looked straight at Potter, narrowing his eyes in a calculating look. That had been completely unexpected… Potter, a Parselmouth? And since when did he deliberately try to hurt people?

Whether because they were afraid of Potter or because they wanted to get away from the awkward situation, Severus wasn't sure, but everyone began to leave the Great Hall. Potter was dragged off by his friends, looking confused, and others were murmuring amongst themselves. Even Lockhart was gaping.

"I—I really must—leave, you know—bye," he said nervously, meshing with the crowd of students.

Only Vesperra stayed behind, and she waited until they were the only ones left to speak. "Severus, what just happened? Why did everyone seem scared?—Potter told the snake to leave that kid alone!"

"That's what he said to it?" In the midst of it all, he had completely forgotten that she was a Parselmouth as well. "Vesperra, you're the only one that understood him—he was speaking Parseltongue."

"_What?_ But—Potter's a—?"

"Apparently. Do you realize how rare it is that we have two Parselmouths at the school? The ability to speak to snakes is about one in several thousand. And neither of you have it because of heredity…." And then he felt as though a stone had dropped in his stomach. "I have to go speak with Dumbledore," he said, starting to walk out of the Great Hall.

"Can I come?" asked Vesperra.

He stopped and looked down to her. "You want to—?"

"Well, I assumed your conversation with Dumbledore would involve the Chamber of Secrets, so it would be easier if I could be there to listen, and offer input, like last time…"

Severus faltered, and suddenly felt horrible. He still hadn't told her anything about Lily or protecting Potter, and at the moment he felt like that was a mistake. But she couldn't know yet… not yet… And he certainly wouldn't have time to tell her now. Still, he hated to leave her out.

"I'm sorry, Vesperra, but—not this time, no, it's—" He paused, seeing the faintest hint of hurt in her eyes. "It's a different matter than that… You should return to your dorm."

"Okay," she said, walking with him to the Entrance Hall. As they parted and she made her way down to the dungeons, she had a feeling that he was keeping something from her. Then again, she kept quite a few things from him, as well… so they were even.

* * *

Severus swept through the empty corridors and gave the gargoyle the password, which had been changed to 'Lemon drop,' then waited for the spiral staircase to bring him up to the Headmaster's door. He knocked with the brass door knocker, and heard Dumbledore's voice call, "Enter."

"What do I owe this pleasure, Severus?" said Dumbledore when he strode in. "I trust the Dueling Club went well?"

"Actually, it didn't," he said, "and for a number of reasons—one of them being that the school is now afraid of Potter. The boy is a Parselmouth, Albus—Malfoy conjured a snake, and Potter spoke to it."

Dumbledore simply raised his eyebrows at this information, but seemed unfazed by it. "Yes, well, I had my suspicions… and now they are confirmed."

"You've known?" said Severus, frowning.

"I suspected it. When Voldemort attempted to kill Harry eleven years ago, I believe he unknowingly transferred some of his powers to him. It would explain why their wands have twin cores, and why Harry can speak Parseltongue."

"But… if the Dark Lord transferred his Parselmouth abilities to the boy, couldn't he have also transferred the power to open the Chamber of Secrets?" There was a moment of grim silence.

"That is a possibility, but I do not believe for one second that Harry would attempt to open the Chamber and kill Muggleborns."

"What if he's being possessed?"

"Voldemort would have had to possess him before he entered Hogwarts this year, and the circumstances would have had to have been similar to Quirrell's. You know as well as I that that could not have happened. Thank you for telling me this, but I have nothing more to say on the matter. Good evening, Severus."

He hadn't expected their conversation to be so short. In retrospect, he realized that he could have brought Vesperra with him and she wouldn't have heard anything he didn't want her to. Severus felt a lot better in that sense, but still felt like there was something else they needed to discuss. Unable to think of it, he left Dumbledore's office and returned to his chambers.

For much of the night, he and Vesperra talked. He told her everything that had gone on in Dumbledore's office, but made it sound as though other things had been said as well that he couldn't tell her. That way, she wouldn't wonder why he hadn't let her come if he was just going to tell her everything. Neither of them could quite fathom the truth that Potter was a Parselmouth. It was strange for Vesperra to think that she shared that likeness with _him_, the one person she hated almost as much as Malfoy—not including Lockhart, of course.

They sadistically agreed that this meant everyone would now think that Potter was the Heir of Slytherin, and he would finally be hated by the entire school. And, of course, that there wouldn't be any more Dueling Club meetings. Even if there were, they definitely weren't going.

* * *

The next day, there was another attack—a double attack. It had happened during morning classes, but Severus heard it from McGonagall in the staffroom, and everyone had been talking about it during dinner. What was more, Potter had been caught at the scene. Though Vesperra knew he obviously didn't do it, she thought with relish of how he'd be hated even worse.

But the attack itself had brought on more questions. Justin-Finch Fletchley had been Petrified, and Nearly Headless Nick—well, no one was really sure what had happened to him. As a ghost, he shouldn't have been able to be harmed, but he had gone from transparent to black and smoky, and he hovered horizontally. His face and partially detached head were stuck in one position as if Petrified, though he wasn't solid.

No one knew what sort of magic it would take to harm someone that was already dead. Apparently, not even Dumbledore could recount having ever heard of a similar situation. Nervousness turned into outright panic, and the majority of the school that hadn't booked seats on the Hogwarts Express yet did so, fearing that they would be the next victim if they stayed in the castle. As far as Vesperra knew, the Granger girl was the only Muggleborn staying for the Holidays. For a genius, that was pretty stupid of her.

For both of them the main question was, _how could Voldemort be in the castle and able to send Slytherin's monster to attack without anyone noticing?_ It brought upon a strange feeling, because unless they caught anything right as it happened, there wasn't anything they could do. They couldn't search the castle, partly because it was Lord-bloody-Voldemort, who was highly powerful and dangerous, and partly because he would, no doubt, be somewhere where no one could find him.

And they had decided that Voldemort couldn't possibly have a solid body already, which made everything even more confusing. Severus realized that if he did, then his Dark Mark would have been burning—but he didn't mention that to Vesperra. Instead, he told her that if Voldemort had managed to get a body, the first thing he would have done would be gathering up his Death Eaters and planning his rise to power again—which was completely true as well.

There soon wasn't a single thing that was clear in this Chamber of Secrets business except that Voldemort was behind it. Questions haunted them all day, mocking them, torturing them… How has he gotten inside the castle? If he doesn't have a solid body, how can he open the Chamber? If he does have a solid body, why is he terrorizing the school rather than the rest of the Wizarding World? How exactly is the Chamber opened? And what the hell is Slytherin's monster?

It was just questions. All questions and no answers for them, and no means to get any answers. They just had to wait for more attacks to happen, and possibly some clues. Until then, Vesperra was angry at Dumbledore for expecting Severus to be able to deal with something as impossible as this. Severus, however, insisted on patrolling the corridors even when it wasn't his shift.

Vesperra thought it was because he wanted to feel like he was at least doing _something_, and she wouldn't be wrong. But Severus also needed to try his best to protect Potter, and spying and patrolling were the things he did best. Although, it didn't do anything for his morale, for it brought him nowhere closer to any clues, let alone a conclusion.

Once term ended, they were relieved that nothing could happen for the time being. Nearly the entire school would be gone for the Holidays, which meant Voldemort had nothing to do. Severus wondered if he would go after Potter, but realized he couldn't keep an eye on the kid every minute of the day.

Knowing that all was calm for now didn't help very much, considering that they were extremely pessimistic people. If nothing was going on now, there would surely be much worse ahead of them. But in the meantime, they tried to rationalize, tried to calm down… and tried as hard as they could to actually enjoy the bit of relief they had for now. For the first time in their lives, they looked forward to Christmas.

* * *

Vesperra woke up on the morning of December Twenty-fifth without immediately realizing what day it was. Only when she passed the small pile of presents at the end of Millicent's bed did she remember that it was Christmas. The thought didn't bring her any excitement in its own, but she knew that at least she'd get to spend the day with Severus.

She glanced at the end of her bed, not expecting anything to be there, and found her presumptions to be correct. But she didn't care about presents… The only time she had ever gotten a proper one was last year—well, she had had a few. Dumbledore had given her and Severus necklaces that later turned out to be more than that… She had wondered if they had any magical properties other than glowing when it was the other's birthday. Knowing Dumbledore, there probably was.

And then there was the ring… It had belonged to her aunt who she never knew, and had been passed down by generations of Lestranges. By simply wearing the ring, those who knew what her cousins had done would respect her and even fear her. But was it really a gift? It was a symbol of her connection to the Lestranges, who had murdered and tortured hundreds at Voldemort's side. They were rotting in Azkaban now, and would likely be there until they died. Why would she want to wear something that showed off her connection to them?

But whether she liked it or not, she was a Lestrange. Wearing the ring didn't make a difference… She had never even known until earlier that year. Severus had thought the information too horrible for her ears… he hadn't wanted to burden her with it.

So why was she still wearing the ring? Why hadn't she, upon discovering what being a Lestrange meant, pulled the ring off and thrown it at Severus like he had the book? Why hadn't she gotten rid of it afterwards, or at least put it away in her trunk and not worn it anymore? Well, she wasn't exactly ashamed of her lineage… Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been insane and horrible, but they were powerful. And being a Lestrange made her powerful.

Vesperra sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand up to her face to examine the ring closer, though she wasn't sure why. Perhaps she was trying to come up with an excuse for having kept it, and not even taking it off once. It was useful… if it weren't for the ring, she most likely wouldn't have the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards, or that book of poisons and antidotes. And the ring was likely to keep her safe whenever she ventured back into Knockturn Alley in the future, since no one would dare disrespect her, let alone try to hurt her, once they saw it. And possibly the most important reason; Severus had put it on her. Though he had known all along and still hadn't told her when he did it, he had been the one to slip the ring on her finger—and for that, she couldn't take it off.

There had been one other present that night, even though Severus hadn't intended for it to be a present. He had shown her the Mirror of Erised, and she had had the privilege to stand in front of that ancient object. She realized how dangerous it could be, but Severus was there to take her away from it in case she wasn't able to leave it on her own. Vesperra wondered where it was now, and whether she'd see the same thing she did last time if she looked into it again.

That night had ended in tears… they had been happy tears, but tears nonetheless. That had been the first time she and Severus had really let each other see their vulnerabilities… And she realized, she didn't mind _him_ seeing. But as she hurried to dress herself and brush her hair, she decided that she didn't want today to involve any crying… she just wanted to spend a peaceful Christmas with Severus.

* * *

Severus woke up with a sharp headache, and groaned as he threw off his blanket and sat up, turning and placing his bare feet on the ice-cold stone floor. He could still remember the night before, though it was hazy and he remembered that it involved drinking. So he couldn't have been too drunk… but his hangover was still painful. Somewhat off-balance, he stood and went into his office, then passed through to the Potions classroom so he could get to his cabinet of already-brewed potions.

He looked through it, struggling to focus so that he didn't see double, and failed to find any bottles of Hangover antidote. _What? No, I couldn't have run out… I haven't even had a hangover since—Damn, they've been stolen, they always are! _Angrily, Severus closed the cabinet and held his burning forehead in his hand, hoping his cold skin would help soothe the throbbing pain. It did, but only a little. _Damn teenagers, getting drunk and then stealing _my_ Hangover antidote instead of brewing their own…_ He didn't even know how they had managed to steal it without him knowing until now, but someone must have.

Desperate, he quickly returned to his room and rummaged through his personal drawer, even though he knew he hadn't kept any in there for a while. Now the only thing he could do was brew the antidote, which was, coincidentally, a bit difficult to do when you had a hangover. Madam Pomfrey was likely to have some, but he was _not_ going to go to her and admit that he'd had too much to drink the night before.

So Severus ignored the pain, and set up his cauldron in his office. As he went to his storeroom to get the ingredients, there was a knock on the door that automatically triggered more pain in his already pounding head—but it was his and Vesperra's secret knock.

* * *

"Vesperra—good morning—come in…" He let her walk in, noting the confused look on her face, and closed the door behind her. "It's a bit early, isn't it?"

She glanced around, and wondered if he'd prefer solitude at the moment. Coughing awkwardly, she said, "Well, I thought I'd come before Malfoy had the chance to wake up. Er—do you usually brew shirtless? Or this early in the morning?"

Oh. Severus hadn't realized that he was only wearing his trousers—he hadn't even remembered that he had fallen asleep without a shirt on… But now he did. He had been drinking firewhiskey last night, and despite it being winter and him living in the dungeons, it had made him feel too hot, and he had taken his shirt off. It was a good thing that he hadn't taken his pants off as well.

Realizing that there was nothing hiding his faded Dark Mark from her, he quickly turned his left arm so his forearm was hidden to her, and hoped to God that she hadn't already seen it.

Vesperra tried to keep her eyes on his face, but they kept slipping down to his bare chest, which was sparsely covered with black chest hair. She quickly stopped wondering why he was shirtless and was putting all her mental effort into not looking at it. It was quite a nice view, though… _No, dammit—why am I thinking like that?_ Apparently, Severus hadn't been aware of his shirtlessness, because he immediately looked down, shocked to see that he was half-naked.

"No, I don't—excuse me a moment, please," said Severus, feeling embarrassed. Without his usual swiftness, he hurried to his bedroom and, without shutting the door, found his wardrobe and jerked it open, then grabbed a shirt and forced his arms through the sleeves. His fingers fumbled with the buttons in his post-drunken haze, but he managed to get the last few done while he walked back into his office.

In the few minutes that it took him to get a shirt on, Vesperra was putting everything together in her head. Severus was acting strange… He seemed to have trouble standing straight, and his voice had been slightly broken, as if he were in pain… And he was sweating. She recognized the look in his eyes, but it was nothing she had seen on him before—she had seen it one too many times on her father in the mornings.

When he returned, Severus tried to stand in a dignified position. "I apologize, Vesperra, I—"

"Severus, do you have a hangover?" she said calmly. It shocked him, but more that she said it with worry instead of accusation than that she knew the symptoms of a hangover.

"I—yes." He wanted so badly to sit down for a minute, but he didn't want to be rude. "Vesperra, I don't want you to see me like this… I'm a mess right now. I just need to brew a Hangover antidote and then you—"

"I'll help you," said Vesperra. Severus noticed how she wasn't asking, and it wasn't an offer. It was a statement. She continued before he could argue. "It'll be done faster and, to be honest, you're in no fit state to do much—you look horrible. Besides, do you really think I'd leave you like this on Christmas?"

"Christ—?" It was Christmas? That was yet another thing he hadn't realized… Damn. And he was putting her through this… "Happy Christmas," he said, feeling nauseous.

Vesperra sighed. "Happy Christmas. Here—do you want me to brew it for you from your instructions while you sit down?"

Upon seeing the genuine worry in her eyes for him while he was in this shameful state—hungover on Christmas morning—he nearly lost it. But as much as he'd love to sit down, he couldn't let her do that for him. He didn't deserve it. "No, I'm still capable of brewing… but you can help if you'd like."

"Alright, then—what do we need?"

She and Severus entered his ingredients storeroom, and he told her which ones to take as he took some too. It was just like when she had helped him in the first few weeks of the school year—Vesperra prepared ingredients, some without having to be told what to do, and Severus prepared others and made sure to add them in the correct way as well as stirring. And she had the stool again so she could work easily.

While crushing mint leaves in a stone bowl into a paste, a thought came to mind, and she turned to Severus. He was so obviously in pain, and he was sweating… One of his hands clutched at the flat surface of the table, supporting himself so that he didn't fall forward. Her heart skipped several beats, and she could have sworn that she had just died for a moment.

"Severus?" said Vesperra, setting the stone bowl down for a moment and covering his slightly shaking hand with hers. "Why were you drinking last night? Enough to get drunk, I mean."

"I was… I was being stupid," he said, not stopping what he was doing as he spoke quietly, yet clearly. "I felt awful, and with all that's gone on, and with us unable to get anywhere… I decided to have a drink. And that turned into more. I'm… I'm very sorry, Vesperra. You shouldn't have to see me like this, and though you have every right, I don't want you to think of me badly—"

If he wasn't prone to topple over at the moment, she would have hit him. "Don't say that." Normally she'd have been louder and sterner, but she knew that loud noises would worsen his headache. "I _don't_ think badly of you at all. I've been just as stressed as you, lately… If I had had access to alcohol, I could have done the same thing."

He doubted that she had been just as stressed as him when he had Potter's safety to think about, but he appreciated her words all the same. She let go of his hand and returned to the mint leaves, so Severus said no more and concentrated all his effort on the potion.

Until nausea got the better of him, that is. It built up throughout the hour as discomfort in his stomach, then a strangely empty feeling in his chest, then light-headedness, then urges to heave gradually getting stronger and stronger. But he ignored them, which resulted in him sweating more and it became more and more difficult…

There was a lurch in his stomach, and he nearly dropped his wand into the cauldron. With the hand supporting him, he shakily took hold of Vesperra's wrist and pulled it up to the cauldron, and quickly transferred his wand to her hand. "Stir clockwise five more times—" he said huskily and quickly before running out of his office and into his bedroom so he could get to the bathroom at once.

Vesperra did as he said, but heard the sounds of Severus retching, and couldn't continue with the ingredients after the stirring was done. She had never heard him in that much pain before… And they only got worse as they went on, Severus coughing and making futile gasps of breath in between… Without immediately realizing it, she was shaking as if she had felt his pain. She _was_ feeling pain, and almost too much to bear—it was the pain of knowing how much Severus was in. Hot, traitorous tears streamed down her face as she gripped the table hard, waiting for it to be over.

Finally, he returned, after cleaning out his mouth and nose, which were still burning, and having steadied himself. Vesperra surreptitiously wiped her face when he stood next to her again, and said in a slightly choked voice, "No. Sit down, I'll finish it."

"Vesperra, I can—"

"No, you can't. You need to sit down."

"I've done this on my own before, you know," said Severus, annoyed at being told what to do in his own office, though far less annoyed than he should be.

"But you've never had me before, have you?"

_No, I haven't…_ Suddenly extremely grateful that he did have her, he made his way to the couch and sat, leaning back and holding his head.

From the couch, he gave her instructions. Luckily, there wasn't much left to do, so it didn't take long. The Hangover antidote was difficult to brew, but if done by a skilled witch or wizard, would be finished shortly. It was an even split between highly inconvenient and convenient for anyone who was forced to brew it the morning of a hangover.

When she had finished, she filled a small flask and brought it to him. Severus merely glanced at it—it was a pale pink, like it should be—before downing it in one gulp. He completely trusted Vesperra's ability to do it correctly.

"Feeling better?" said Vesperra.

"It'll take a minute to work, but… thank you." Slowly, his headache and nausea disappeared, and he became less sensitive to light and noise. Then, he and Vesperra filled more flasks until there wasn't any potion left in the cauldron, and he put all of them in his personal drawers.

"I can't say this has been one of my better Christmases so far…" Severus said once they sat down again. "Nor can I say that I'll never touch alcohol again, because that's not going to happen."

Vesperra smirked at him. "Did you get any presents?" she teased.

"I don't know, I was too hungover to even realize it was Christmas two hours ago, so I didn't check… The Weasley twins probably sent me more shampoo." Severus grabbed her hand and brought her to his room to check, and there were two packages at the end of his bed. He picked up the tube-shaped one and checked for a name. There wasn't. "This is the shampoo, and—"

"This one's from Lockhart." Vesperra had picked up the other one, which was wrapped in extravagantly colored paper and topped with a bow. She handed it to him and he ripped it open to reveal a box full of hair and skin-care products.

Scowling, he set the box down on his bed and pulled out the card. He read, "'_Thought you could use it. Best regards, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary—_'" He didn't finish reading it, but crumpled up the note in his fist, gathered the rest of the wrapping paper, and walked over to the fireplace. First pointing his wand at the grate to start a fire, he threw the paper into the hungry flames, which crackled loudly at its new source of food.

The bottles of shampoo would indefinitely create a disgusting smell if thrown into the fire, so he simply Vanished those and went back into his office with Vesperra. "I can't believe he has the nerve…" he muttered angrily.

"I can," said Vesperra. "He has the nerve to do a lot of things anyone with positive I.Q. points would never do. You know what, it's Christmas—so let's go find Lockhart, bind and gag him, then throw him in the lake."

He smirked at the thought, and nearly laughed. "I don't object at all to that idea, but the lake's frozen over."

"Even better—we use magic to cut a hole in the ice big enough to push Lockhart through, so even if he manages to free himself from the ropes, he can't get above the ice again."

"Christmas _is_ the time for miracles… Maybe Slytherin's monster will mistake him for a Muggleborn."

For a while, they just talked like that, planning the details of Lockhart's death until they had exhausted all possibilities. Though she had seen him in silk pajamas before and, just earlier, without a shirt, it felt strange to be talking to him while he wasn't wearing robes. It was just his usual black trousers and a black button-up shirt.

"Are you going to wear that all day?" she asked after a while.

Looking down at his shirt, he said, "I'll change if you want me to."

"No, it's fine—you can wear whatever you want. I was just curious, because you always wear robes… I thought that you'd prefer it."

"I do… and it appears you do, as well. I've never seen you in anything but your robes—and nightclothes, on one occasion—not even during Christmas or Easter Holidays." He didn't look at her questioningly, because he knew the reason. Just as he did, she hated any ties to her Muggle roots, especially because of her father. She took pride in her magical side only, and though he wasn't sure, he guessed that she hated Muggles, thinking that they were all like her father, just as he used to. Before she could answer, he wordlessly summoned a set of robes from his room and used a Switching Spell as soon as they flew to him. His shirt remained on him, but his pants appeared neatly folded in his lap.

"I thought you said you felt like there was a split second where you felt like you were naked when you did that," said Vesperra.

"You've already seen me shirtless… and I didn't switch my underpants, so I saw no point in getting up. Sorry about that, by the way…"

_Sorry about giving me a full view of your chest?_ "It wasn't that bad," she said before she could stop herself. He raised an eyebrow at her, almost at a loss for words. "Well, you're thin, and—and a bit muscular, so… I can't say it was horrible to look at—not that I was looking at it—" She decided to shut up then.

Severus watched as she tried to explain with irritable hand gestures. He could tell, by the way she had gone stiff and kept eye contact, that she was embarrassed, but trying hard not to look it. Still, he didn't understand how she could possibly find him attractive… But he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, so he changed the subject.

"Do you want to play Wizard's Chess?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, thankful that he saved her the embarrassment of trying to continue explaining.

"I have a set—it's in my room. Come on." Vesperra followed him to his room, where he stopped at a stack of boxes near the fireplace and ran one finger down it until he found the Wizard's Chest set, and carefully pulled it out so the boxes on top of it didn't topple over. He was about to carry it back to his office so they could play it on his desk, but he had already gotten used to the warmth of the fireplace, and instead set it on the ground.

"You can be white," he said, pulling out the pieces and setting them up properly. A slight smile reached Vesperra's eyes as she helped, since he was letting her go first. It was a simple gesture and possibly meaningless, but she was just too glad that she was his friend at the moment.

And they played. It was uncomfortable to sit cross-legged while bending over, so they took to laying on their stomachs on the stone floor, where they could see the pieces at eye-level. All the while, both of them stopped caring about who won or lost and were just enjoying each other's company, being able to lie across from each other while the fire crackled beside them, keeping them warm… Oh, what Vesperra wouldn't give to be just a bit closer…

After their fifth game, Vesperra having won two of them, Severus paused in thought and pushed the chessboard to the side. He folded his arms on the floor and buried the lower half in his face in them. Vesperra smirked and did the same.

She didn't know whether he intended for them to have a staring contest, but that's what it felt like. Neither of them blinked for a while, but Vesperra slid her right hand across the stone floor to his left. Rather than grasping his hand, she lifted it and placed her hand so their palms were together, and aligned her fingers with his. She was looking at their hands rather than his face.

"What are you doing?" asked Severus calmly, slightly muffled by his sleeve.

"Seeing how much larger your hand is than mine."

At that, he almost laughed, and his lips, hidden from her view, twitched into a smile. "Comparing hand sizes… A popular thing to do as children, when you were bored…" _Or when you just wanted an excuse to hold their hand._ But Vesperra didn't need an excuse… so perhaps she was just bored. He remembered doing that with Lily once or twice, mostly because he just wanted so badly to touch her hand… She had always noted, with a Lily-esque giggle, that his was rougher and thinner than hers. Suddenly, he missed her very, very much.

_Tell her, you have the entire day. This is the scenario you wanted to do this in, isn't it? She'll understand, she understands everything else. You can't keep this from her forever…_ Of course he couldn't, but he wasn't going to tell her _now_… He just couldn't. It was Christmas—how would that be for a Christmas surprise? _Oh, Happy Christmas Vesperra, now here's a story about how I loved a girl and she was killed, indirectly by my own fault, and to top it all off, she was Potter's mum!_ No, he was not going to do that. Besides, what if Dumbledore was right? What if she was heartbroken by the knowledge? He couldn't do that to her.

Severus shifted his fingers so that he could use them to fill the spaces in between Vesperra's, and they talked for a while, not minding the gaps of silence where there was nothing to say. The urge to tell her all that he hadn't yet told her was growing stronger and stronger, but he ignored it.

And for Vesperra, there was a growing, desperate urge to move forward and let him wrap his arms around her so she could be closer to him. It was an engulfing, almost all-consuming urge, but she fought it. Every once in a while, her arm would make an involuntary twitch towards him, but she didn't think he noticed it. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't know what it meant…

"We've missed breakfast and lunch," said Vesperra nonchalantly when she found nothing else important to say at the moment.

"Are you hungry?" Severus asked. "I could fetch us something from the kitchens."

"A little, but I think we should just wait until dinner. It's Christmas, so there'll be a lot more to eat anyway."

When it came time for dinner, they left for the Great Hall—separately, so Malfoy wouldn't suspect. One could say that it was impossible not to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts, but that person obviously didn't know Severus and Vesperra personally. They'd have very much preferred to eat alone—with each other, that is—and not to be subject to so much cheerfulness.

A dozen enormous Christmas trees lined the walls, covered in frost and intricately decorated. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe hung from the ceiling, and enchanted snow fell upon the tables, though it was warm and dry. Dumbledore led the teachers and the few remaining students in some Christmas carols, at which Severus and Vesperra absolutely refused to participate.

They were glad when it was over and they returned to his office as soon as they were full.

"Lockhart asked me how I liked my present," said Severus the moment he and Vesperra sat down.

"What did you tell him?" she asked.

"Actually, I was focusing too hard on trying not to choke him to say anything." Severus made a short wave of his wand and a bottle of wine flew through the open doorway from his room and into his hand.

Vesperra stared at the bottle, confused. He had woken up with a hangover that morning… and he was drinking again?

"I thought we could have a drink—just one glass for each of us," he told her, knowing what she was thinking. "It's good wine… elf-made."

"And you didn't have anything to drink at dinner?"

"I don't drink with other people… Except for now, but you're different." Summoning two glasses, he poured the wine and gave Vesperra a little less, as she was younger. They sipped and talked, the wine keeping them calm.

Upon first tasting the wine, Vesperra didn't like it much, but after drinking a bit more, she realized that it was an acquired taste. It was a strong flavor and left her tongue tingling, but it did work to keep her nerves down. Although, Severus's presence was doing that already.

"So, are you an angry drunk or a silly drunk?" asked Vesperra, genuinely curious. "Or a flirty drunk?"

Severus stifled a laugh, sure that he definitely wasn't a flirty drunk. But he hadn't really thought about it much… "It would probably depend on who I'm with, but I never get drunk _with_ anyone… I don't even get drunk that often. I'd guess that I'm an angry drunk." Taking another sip of wine, he thought of his father, who would beat him and his mother in a drunken rage when he was a child. He guessed that Vesperra's father may have done the same… And at that, he promised himself that he would never, ever get drunk in front of her. Not only to hide the things he might say with his cognitive abilities hindered, but for fear that he might hit her. If he ever struck _her_… he didn't know how he would be able to live with himself.

Vesperra could understand why he would want to be drunk at this point in time… It was relief, where your mind could be separate from your body, separate from reality… But the consequences were harsh, and you always landed back in reality with a painful _thud_. That was what got people addicted to the relief of alcohol—it was probably what happened to her father. After a while, the thud with which you landed became duller until you no longer cared—but Severus cared. He was mature, extremely superior in intelligence and will power than her Muggle father. He only drank when he really needed to.

Neither of them knew what was ahead of them, but they knew that it would be similar to the previous year—full of mixed emotions, mainly dread and stress. They didn't know how long it would be until everything was figured out, or if everything even would be figured out. The last time the Chamber was open, a Muggleborn died. Hogwarts had almost been closed down…

But for now, they decided to let themselves enjoy the time spent with each other. They just enjoyed the fact that they could relax in his office for the moment. And they wished so badly that the whole day hadn't felt like an hour…

Severus was still so very grateful for her. He was grateful for her existence, for the fact that she cared about him, and for the fact that he had something besides his obligations to care about. She had helped him that morning when he didn't deserve it—she had _insisted_. She cared about him so much that she resorted to giving him orders. She was just as stubborn about taking no for an answer as she was when it came to accepting help… And it seemed that she had a certain drive to look after him, even though he was much larger and more capable than her.

There were times when she really scared him with how much she knew about certain aspects of Dark Magic and how interesting she found them… At those times, he was afraid that she would end up on the same path that he had taken. But at other times, like now, he was sure that those fears were mistaken. She was _so_ much like Lily… but only towards him. Vesperra was in absolutely no way inexplicably kind, like Lily was, but she felt protective over those she cared about—him. And she was passionate about it. What on earth would he do without her?

Nothing he could say could possibly express the magnitude of how grateful he was for everything she had done that morning and making that day a wonderful one for him. He couldn't put it into words, and he'd only humiliate himself if he tried.

So after a short moment of silence in which Vesperra had drunk the last of her wine, he set his glass down, and turned to her. He bent forward neither quickly nor slowly—as if swooping down, put one arm around her back to hug her waist, and pressed his lips to her cheek.

Vesperra didn't know what had brought it on, but she suddenly didn't care. Severus was kissing her cheek, his nose pressing into her cheekbone and with one arm around her. Her heart seemed to have stopped completely, and a sudden warmth spread in her chest while sparks surged through the rest of her body. For a split second, she considered turning her head so he would be kissing her lips instead, but it occurred to her that he might bit a little tipsy from the wine, even though it was only one glass. Besides, that wouldn't be appropriate—a kiss on the cheek was one thing, but he was still twenty years older than her.

It was the sort of kiss where he pressed his lips to her skin while they were relaxed and slightly parted, and _then_ outstretched them so he could kiss her cheek firmly. He put all of his gratitude into it, as well as all of his care for her, and every ounce of happiness that he had ever felt because of her. He hoped she understood.

After a few seconds that seemed to last a lifetime, he relaxed his lips and moved an inch away from the side of her face. "Happy Christmas," said Severus, not removing his arm from her waist.

"Happy Christmas," Vesperra said almost breathlessly. That… was heaven. Her own lips had stretched into a real, shameless smile—and she had let them. She couldn't be any happier at the moment.

While Vesperra reveled in the post-kiss euphoria, feeling as though his lips were still on her cheek and trying to convince herself that it had meant something, Severus straightened himself and kept his arm around her waist. He regretted that he couldn't bring himself to pull her closer so he could bury his nose in the crook of her neck, and mutter into her hair, "I love you, you know that?"

Because he really did love her, in more ways than she could imagine.

In more ways than even he could imagine.

* * *

**God, I really hate Lockhart. He's always been one of my least favorite characters... at least he was only a one-time deal. I'd hate to have to see him in any of the other books besides that one scene in Order of the Phoenix. Anyway, I'm glad that I was able to work in Severus being shirtless. I was originally going to have him in pajamas, but I thought shirtless would make for a funnier scene. Shirts are overrated anyways. **

**And of course, I loved writing the scene where he kisses her on the cheek. I've been waiting for this just as long as you guys have.**

**Once again,_ please_ review! Oh, and I decided that I'm not going to give teasers for the next chapters anymore because I often change my mind.**


	23. Book 2: Chapter 9

**This chapter isn't as long as the others, and it's not one of my favorites, but it's necessary. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

For at least a week after Christmas, Vesperra couldn't help but feel contentedly happy, and smiled to herself whenever she remembered how Severus had kissed her on the cheek. She wanted to believe that it had meant something, but plenty of arguments bombarded that thought—he wasn't thinking completely clearly because of the wine, he meant it as sort of a Christmas present or a thanks… and it was most likely just a friendly gesture.

But there was another question that took up residence in her mind and refused to leave—_why_ did she want to believe it had meant something? Why had it made her feel so happy? Why did she want to turn her head and kiss him full on the lips? And she would _not_ say that it was because she loved him—how could she love him? She had never loved anything…

All the while, Vesperra never realized that while she was trying to shove off those feelings, she was absentmindedly lightly rubbing her cheek and kissing her fingers.

When the new term started and the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas Holidays, there were a flurry of rumors around Hogwarts that Hermione Granger had been Petrified. The reason for her sudden disappearance from classes had been made out to be the worst, and it reinstated the panic that much of the school must have forgotten over Christmas. Vesperra had first heard it from Malfoy, who sounded cheerful when he delivered the news.

"I knew it would be no time before Granger was attacked," he said on the second day of term during dinner, looking smug. "I called it—didn't I, Goyle?"

Malfoy cocked his head in the direction of Goyle, who furrowed his thick brow, giving him a clueless look.

"I told you and Crabbe that I hoped the next one attacked was Granger—on Christmas, remember?"

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged looks of confusion, then looked to Malfoy and shook their heads. Malfoy appeared annoyed.

"I suppose it's not the first time you two've seemed to have short-term memory loss…"

While the rest of the Slytherins talked about Granger's situation, Vesperra ate in silent anxiety. If Granger had been Petrified, it must have been during Christmas… and neither her nor Severus had even known about it. At first, that gave her the feeling she hated more than anything—the feeling that they were powerless in this situation. As much as she would have been glad to hear that the insufferable know-it-all was Petrified and would be out of class for much of the year, it was Severus's job to protect the students, however grudgingly, and she felt the desire to help him. It was purely out of loyalty.

But then she felt stupid. If Severus hadn't been told by Dumbledore, then it was likely just a rumor. Still, it was rather suspicious that Granger would be missing from classes when she was such a bloody overachiever. Out of curiosity, Vesperra tried to surreptitiously pass the Hospital Wing after dinner so she could catch a glimpse of what had happened, like many other students had been doing—though _they_ made no effort to seem inconspicuous. However, Madam Pomfrey had closed the curtains around Granger's bed, and she couldn't see anything.

That was even more suspicious, but she decided not to make anymore assumptions just yet. Naturally, the first thing she did was talk to Severus.

* * *

_**Severus, do you know if the rumors about Granger being Petrified are true? She's in the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey has her hidden.**_

_Actually, they're not. McGonagall was asking Madam Pomfrey about it in the staffroom just yesterday, and apparently Granger is covered in fur. She's hiding her to spare her the embarrassment._

_**Finally, one of her spells went wrong. It would be embarrassing enough for her if the entire school knew that she had done something wrong. But I'm not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.**_

_Don't be disappointed, Madam Pomfrey said that Granger would be in the Hospital Wing for at least a month._

_**An entire month without her? Let's celebrate with the rest of your wine.**_

_Isn't the fact that we have a Granger-free month enough to keep us calm? That's expensive wine, anyway. I want to save it. _

_**Well, do you suppose Potter and Weasley will cause more or less trouble with the brains of their operation missing?**_

_It might not make a difference. Whatever mayhem they cause usually doesn't appear to involve a plan that would require the least bit of intelligence to come up with. They just have a drive to break rules and make life difficult for all the teachers at Hogwarts, namely me._

Not unexpectedly, the ensuing conversation was mainly about Potter and using increasingly creative descriptions of the magnitude of their mutual hatred towards him. Both of them went to sleep that night satisfied that they had vented everything on their mind.

* * *

It wasn't too long until everyone in the school realized that Granger was not actually Petrified. The Slytherins were disappointed, but had fun coming up with theories as to why she was actually in the Hospital Wing. Vesperra would have told them, but she had a feeling that they would wonder how she knew, which would inevitably lead to them teasing her about Severus.

Speaking of Severus, she woke up on the ninth knowing that it was his birthday without having to look at her glowing necklace first. Twisting the silver _S_ on its chain fondly, she pushed back the curtains around her four-poster and went to her school trunk to fish out a clean set of robes. After she had showered and dressed, Vesperra took the necklace off and looked at the back of the _S_ just for the sake of doing so.

She hadn't forgotten that Severus had turned thirty-three, but seeing it etched on the silver letter sort of struck her, and made her think about how strange their friendship was. He was a thirty-three year-old _man_, and she was a twelve year-old girl. When she had first seen him during the start-of-term banquet last year, she hadn't even dreamed that they'd actually end up friends—especially not friends as close as they were. What were the chances?

Anyone could agree that their relationship was unusual—if anyone knew about their relationship, that is.

That night at eight, Vesperra left the library, where she had been writing her Charms essay, and went straight to Severus's office instead of her dorm. He had asked her to come to help him inventory his private stores, as she guessed she'd be doing every month now—not that she minded. While walking there, she checked around corners as a habit, making sure that Malfoy wasn't following her. She hadn't seen him anywhere near the library, but she knew from experience that he knew how to stay unseen. Vesperra knew for a fact that he'd been attempting to spy on her lately, but luckily she knew how to avoid him. It was somewhat thanks to Severus, who appeared to know a lot about the arts of sneaking around.

Vesperra wondered if he had purposely decided to inventory his ingredients today, or whether he had even remembered it was his birthday. She supposed she would figure that out after she knocked.

* * *

And she would be correct about both of those things. As apathetic as Severus was towards his birthday, he knew Vesperra would want to spend some of it with him and that she wasn't kidding when she said she'd force him to take whatever present she got him. So he decided that he'd do best to accept it grudgingly and appreciate it, whatever it was. Plus, he needed to do his monthly inventorying soon, and Vesperra might as well visit him when she had an excuse to.

Not long after eight, he heard a knock and began walking towards the door before it even became evident that it was their knock. Severus was a perceptive man, and he could easily recognize the sound of her knock by the pitch, because she had smaller hands than anyone else he'd expect to knock at his door. The knock to the rhythm of that Muggle song Lily had liked never bothered him anymore—he was actually glad to hear it, because though it was a reminder of her, it was a happy reminder. It was the sort of reminder he had almost every day that he spent any time with Vesperra, and gave him the feeling that she was channeling Lily at the moment.

* * *

He opened the door to let Vesperra in, and immediately cast an Imperturbable Charm over it, as usual.

"Happy Birthday," said Vesperra as soon as he turned around. He glanced at her hands and pockets, and saw nothing. She didn't say anything else either, so he assumed that she decided not to get him a present after all. Not sure whether he was glad or disappointed about that, he quickly moved his eyes back to her face so that she wouldn't suspect what he was looking for.

"But what do you care, right?" she continued. "It's just another day closer to death—"

"Well, that's a comforting thought," he said, smirking. "No really, it is. It's too bad I'm only thirty-three, so I won't be dying for a while…" Severus was only half-joking. He was anxious for any way to get out of the hell-hole called life, but there were things keeping him behind. His duties to protect Potter, for one. And of course… Vesperra. He used to figure that after he had done what he had sworn to do and the Dark Lord was finished, which could be many years from now, he would just die because there was nothing else to live for. But now that he had her… he refused to die. He would not die and leave her alone.

Vesperra gave a nervous smirk. Even though she knew he wasn't serious, Vesperra felt a stab of pain at the thought of Severus dead. For him to say that he'd have welcomed death and just left her alone to grieve and not see him again until _she_ died… that hurt.

Seeing the sudden hurt in her eyes that she quickly made the effort to hide, he realized that he had made a mistake in saying that. "There's things I need to do before I die, though. And I'm not going to."

"If you die, Severus, I will kill you," she said. They shared a look before he strode to his cabinet and pulled out the roll of parchment that they had recorded everything on the month before, and summoned another roll of parchment, which he handed to Vesperra.

As they went through the list, Severus counted ingredients because he was taller and could reach the higher ones, and Vesperra copied it down. Both of them rewrote labels where they had faded and made sure everything was in the correct order. They had only gotten to the second column on the left side of the storeroom when anything seemed out of place.

Severus's hand stopped on an empty space, and he scowled. "The Antimony's gone," he said in a quiet, dangerous voice. Where his hand had stopped, there should have been a thin, glass prism of silvery-grey liquid. It was very rare, and very expensive. He only owned one phial, because most potions that required it only called for a few drops at the most. Searching the surrounding section of shelves in case it had been misplaced, Severus's scowl deepened until there were deep crease lines on his face.

"It's gone. It must have been stolen," said Severus.

Vesperra marked Antimony's status as 'None—stolen' and looked up at Severus. "But how is that possible?"

"Things have been stolen before… though not very often. I've caught some students attempting to steal ingredients for illegal potion-brewing, and then there are the few that have somehow managed to get in here without my knowledge. There's no way to prove who it was, so they've never been punished," he added angrily.

After thinking about it a moment, Vesperra said, "Did you remember to lock and cast wards on the classroom door when you were drunk on Christmas Eve?"

He hated to be reminded of that, but she had a point. "There is a _slight_ possibility… that I didn't." Alright, it was more than possible, and it was likely considering the situation. And Vesperra knew that too—he could tell by the look she was giving him. "I'd still like to know who the idiot was that dared attempt to steal from _me_. Do you know how much trouble I had to go to in order to purchase that?"

"I'd expect you had to travel to distant countries, trade with foreigners, and pay a large sum of Galleons."

"Correct on all accounts except that I didn't pay in Galleons—I traveled to Greece five years ago and met up with Muggle scientists, who warned me several times that Antimony is that state was dangerously unstable and that I would find no use for it, but they eventually agreed to allow me purchase it for seventy-five Muggle dollars. That's equivalent to about eight Galleons… But you know all about Muggle money, don't you?"

"Actually, Severus, I don't," said Vesperra, too intrigued by his story to be annoyed. She made a mental note to ask him to tell more ingredient-procuring stories another time. "My mum never let my dad teach me about Muggle money—not that I ever wanted to. But the Antimony—I didn't know Muggles knew how to isolate it…"

"The most advanced of them do. Though without magic, it takes much too long and they have to be sure of all sorts of conditions of the room it's kept in to keep it stable. They've no idea of its magical properties or how valuable it can be, so it's easier to obtain it from them than wizards… but still difficult. To make sure they didn't grow suspicious, I had to Obliviate them afterwards."

"Wait—why couldn't you take back the money and Obliviate that memory as well?" she asked.

"I am not a thief, Vesperra," growled Severus, narrowing his eyes at her. "Not even when it comes to Muggles." He frowned, realizing that he was right in guessing her attitude towards Muggles, but also angry at himself for being such a hypocrite.

She looked at him for a moment, watching the sudden anger in his eyes dissipate. "I'm sorry," she sighed truthfully. "Now, what are we going to do about the Antimony?"

"We can't necessarily _do_ anything," he said. "Unless the thief confesses or I happen to find the phial in anyone's possession, there's nothing I can do. No potion on the curriculum for any of the years involves Antimony, but certain other potions will be impossible to brew until I'm able to procure more."

"I don't suppose you can go back to Greece any time soon?"

"I doubt it," said Severus. "It wouldn't likely be found in any apothecaries, either."

"What about in Knockturn Alley?" she asked. He gave her a slightly curious look, and she realized he must not expect her to know much about that place. "I know a lot of illegal trading goes on in there…"

"It depends… if you know the right people, then possibly. It would still be expensive, though, and teachers aren't paid a large salary. Meanwhile, we should finish inventorying and dwell on that later."

They did continue, but only until Severus realized that they were missing a jar each of powdered horn of bicorn and shredded boomslang skin. He knew at once what was going on.

"Someone's brewing Polyjuice Potion," he realized. "And they must want it pretty badly to steal from me. If I _ever_ discover who snuck in here…"

Something clicked in Vesperra's head as she was reminded of something similar that he had said a few weeks before, and she let out a small gasp. "You don't think—?"

"Potter did it? I would, but you and I both know that he has absolutely no skill at potion-making, so I can't see him attempting it… And I don't know what use he'd find for it. Even if he did, there's still no way to prove it."

It wasn't turning out to be a good birthday. He and Vesperra finished inventorying in harsh silence, with Severus seething that some of his ingredients were stolen, and Vesperra trying to piece together information to figure out who stole them and how. At last they finished, and Severus told her that she ought to get back to her dorm. She agreed and slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, and was already headed for the door when she suddenly stopped.

"Oh—I almost forgot, Severus," she said, turning around. "Your present."

So there _was_ a present… Looking purposefully annoyed, he relaxed his muscles and waited for her to give him whatever it was.

"This present requires that you sit down," said Vesperra.

Curious, he walked over to the couch and sat in his usual spot, and she followed. "Why?" he asked.

For a moment she hesitated, and that moment allowed her heart to start beating like a frantic bird trying to escape its cage. But she would not, _could_ not, bow down in the face of useless fear. Slytherin or not, she forced herself to have some goddamn bravery for once. Stepping closer to the side of the couch, she said, "Because I'm not tall enough." And she put one arm around his neck, the other holding his face, and bent down a little to kiss his cheek.

In those few seconds, she didn't worry about what his reaction would be—she just enjoyed it. It was just as much of a present to her as she meant it to be for him.

Part of him wasn't surprised. He assumed she was repaying him the kindness he had given to her on Christmas… Perhaps she had realized what he meant by the kiss, and wanted to convey the same thing to him—that she was grateful. Severus could honestly say that he liked it, and not just because of the intent behind it. He liked how it felt. Her nose pressing into his cheek, the tingling in the spot where she had kissed…

"Happy Birthday," said Vesperra when she pulled away and let go of his face. She tried her best to sound natural and not at all how she felt—breathless and dizzy. Severus turned slowly to her and raised his eyebrows, but then smirked. To see that he wasn't angry or confused gave her immense confidence.

"Thank you," he said quietly, practically whispering. "Night."

"Night, Severus." Vesperra made for the door, feeling extremely proud of herself.

* * *

If anyone said that they were missing having Granger in classes, they would be lying. Though many of the teachers had said they hoped the girl would get better soon, Severus knew that they were all relieved on the inside. They were glad that there wasn't one girl answering all the questions and showing off merely by repeating what she had memorized from a textbook. Lockhart was the only exception, as he had bragged that Granger had the highest marks in his class. That easily translated into 'she gives me the most attention', and Lockhart practically lived off attention. Severus wondered how long it would be before the man cracked if he locked him in one of the dungeons with limited food.

But it was much more pleasant with Granger missing, because that easily made Vesperra the best in the class by a large margin, and Potter and Longbottom faired even worse than usual without the girl's help. That gave him more things to criticize, which he loved to do. The only thing he missed was not being able to insult her, but you couldn't have everything in life.

As for the missing ingredients, he hadn't told Dumbledore. It seemed pointless to do, and he wasn't going to let the old man purchase replacements—if he even offered to. He didn't expect him to enforce punishment either, as he would indefinitely say "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus." Or something of the sort. But regardless of who had stolen from him, it had put him in a bad mood for at least a week. And as usual, he took it out on the students by giving them massive amounts of homework.

Severus had assigned two rolls of parchment on the uses and dangers of Growth potions the very next lesson he had with the second year Gryffindors and Slytherins, which he knew would only add more stress for those who hadn't even started the previous lesson's assignment that was due a week from then—which was most of them. Well, that was their problem, not his. He had, however, told Vesperra that she only had to turn in one roll of parchment, since she didn't deserve to be punished. But she had already finished it a few days after he had assigned it, and written more than was necessary.

* * *

It was nearing the end of January, which naturally meant that it was getting colder, yet dryer. The snow on the grounds shared more of a resemblance with ice, and the bitter cold had everyone in several layers of clothing. One morning the Slytherin second years were headed out to Double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and were hurrying to cross the grassy slopes before the freezing temperatures began to sting their ears and nose.

It was difficult to walk too fast, though, without slipping. Malfoy was showing off by sliding around on the ice with ease, nudging people to the side when he passed them, and laughing obnoxiously as he did. Vesperra's usually pale face was flushed with blood because of the cold, and she was trying to walk as quickly as she could to the greenhouses without slipping.

Suddenly, Malfoy slid up to her side without Crabbe and Goyle, who had fallen and been left behind to catch up. "Try not to fall, Grease-perra!" he said with a nasty grin. "You wouldn't want to—" Annoyed, Vesperra avoided looking at the git and stuck out her arm before he could his, and pushed him. He slid forward and lost balance, but before Vesperra could smirk, he had grabbed her scarf with one of his flailing arms and pulled her down with him.

They were on a small slope that led directly to the greenhouses, but the solid snow-ice didn't allow for much traction. Though Vesperra tried to jam her foot into the ice to stop herself from sliding all the way down, Malfoy kept a firm hold on her scarf and it continued to pull her down. It only lasted for a few seconds until it leveled out and Vesperra was finally able to pry Malfoy's hand from her scarf. She stood up at once and pulled back her fist to punch the lights out of him, but a thick, meaty hand grabbed her arm and she had no doubt that it was either Crabbe or Goyle.

At this point, she didn't care that she'd be fighting like a Muggle—she just wanted to hit Malfoy so badly. But then Professor Sprout arrived on the scene, probably having wondered why no one was in Greenhouse One yet.

"Break it up this instant, you three, or it's detention for the lot of you!"

Malfoy waited until Professor Sprout had turned away, then shot a smirk at Vesperra. She jerked her arm away from who she now saw was Goyle, and picked up her bag, checking inside to make sure nothing had broken. Luckily nothing had, so she joined the others in Greenhouse One, ignoring the stares and giggles from the other students.

It wasn't as though this sort of this didn't happen nearly every day, but Malfoy had humiliated her… And even though he had inadvertently humiliated himself as well, she wasn't going to let him get away with it.

After Herbology was Charms, and Vesperra was glad to be back inside the castle. Once in the Charms classroom, she took off her winter coat and stuffed it inside her bag, and rubbed her face so the friction would warm it up.

"We're starting a new charm today," squeaked Professor Flitwick, "Would you all please turn to page seventy-four in your Standard Book of Spells!" There was the sound of flipping pages for a few seconds, and Vesperra saw that the spell they were learning was the Severing Charm… which she had already learnt on her own. That was before she began devoting her time that she wasn't spending with Severus to developing her own spell. Nevertheless, she still took notes just out of habit.

"The difficulty increases with the thickness of what you are trying to rip or tear," Flitwick was explaining. "Parchment would be the easiest, and then fabric, and then wood… A powerful Severing Charm can break apart even metal. Of course, you also need to practice getting a nice, clean rip rather than a jagged one. Now, as you can see by the illustrations, the wand movement is a sharp flick in the direction you wish the rip to be in. You need to keep your arm steady, and as always, enunciation is important! Please say the incantation with me—_Diffindo_."

The class answered back dully, as Slytherins were often less than enthusiastic. Vesperra merely muttered the incantation under her breath, annoyed that Flitwick always spoke to them as if they were small children. He had to be her least favorite teacher… after Lockhart, of course.

"Now, I want you all to practice—on parchment first. Get into pairs, and one of you will levitate the parchment while the other attempts to rip it with the Severing Charm."

Vesperra's mind automatically went to Malfoy, and decapitating him with the Severing Charm. It seemed that he was thinking the same about her, because she could hear him hissing to Crabbe and Goyle, "Neither of you can properly levitate anything yet, just—just partner each other." He left his seat and sat down next to Vesperra, who was in the back. She wasn't sure whether to be angry or glad.

"Oh look at that, Grease-perra, everyone else has partners, so I guess I'll have to be yours," said Malfoy, glancing around.

"What an unexpected twist of fate," Vesperra replied dryly. They then alternated glaring at the parchment on the desk and each other, neither of them wanting to do the levitating first.

"Fine, I'll levitate it," she said at last as Malfoy sat in the other chair. "But the moment you try anything, I'll turn my wand on you." He seemed unfazed by her threat, and she wondered whether it was because he didn't think she'd follow through with it, or that he didn't think her magically skilled enough.

They both raised their wands warily, and Vesperra pointed hers at the parchment, muttering "_Wingardium Leviosa_." She tried to watch Malfoy's face and wand at the same time as he flicked his downward.

"_Diffindo_," he said confidently, but it only created a light mark on the parchment instead of actually ripping it. Vesperra smirked, and he scowled. "_Diffindo!_" he tried again, this time creating a jagged tear down the middle. They continued until Malfoy finally had a clean rip down the center of the parchment, which went a little too far and cut down the left sleeve of her robes.

She dropped her wand at once to cover her left forearm, fearing that her scar would be seen, and shot Malfoy a look of complete and utter loathing. Laughing, he picked up her wand from the floor, and her hands lunged for him both to take back her wand and strangle him—

"Now now, Miss D'Monicas, it was only an accident!" Flitwick said, scurrying over. "No need to cause a fuss! And Mister Malfoy, while your precision was off, it seems you are able to sever fabric already—take five points for Slytherin!" Malfoy grinned smugly as Vesperra jerked her wand back and immediately repaired her ripped sleeve, glaring at him. "And you've yet to practice, Miss D'Monicas, so let's see what you can do!"

Most of the others had stopped to watch them, but Flitwick didn't seem to notice. As Malfoy levitated a piece of parchment between him and Vesperra, she made a harsh, diagonal flick with her wand, and hissed, "_Diffindo!_"

Not only did the spell cut straight through the parchment, but it skimmed the side of Malfoy's head and cut a good portion of his hair off, which fell to the ground without him noticing at first. The rest of the Slytherins stifled giggles, and even Flitwick's face held a flicker of a smile. Frowning, Malfoy seemed confused as to what everyone thought was so funny—until he reached up and felt the side of his head.

"Oops," said Vesperra, eyes glinting at the furiously humiliated look on Malfoy's face.

"You—!"

"You may have tried a little too hard, Miss D'Monicas," said Flitwick. With a wave of his wand, he made Malfoy's hair grow back out to its original length and slicked back with the rest of it. Still looking angry, he glanced around at those who had been unable to stop themselves from grinning and they stopped immediately. Judging by the way he glared at her, she could tell that he was going to make her regret having done that.

The bell that rang twenty minutes later couldn't have been more welcome.

Nothing more than verbal teasing happened at lunch, most likely because Malfoy wouldn't dare do anything worse when teachers, especially Severus, were watching. As Vesperra walked down the second floor corridor after lunch to get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she suddenly felt something hit her roughly in the upper back, and the next thing she knew, she was laying on the floor with an intense pain in her nose.

The force with which she had been shoved to the floor had knocked the wind out of her, and she couldn't draw breath for a few seconds. She pushed herself up from the floor and her hand automatically went to her nose, which she was now sure was broken. Opening her eyes, she saw cards scattered on the floor around her, and her previous thoughts of automatically hexing whoever had shoved her were replaced with _Dammit!_

Vesperra heard cold, drawling laughter as she scrambled to pick up all the cards that was obviously Malfoy's, and she glanced up to see him walking away with his back turned. Goyle was following him, but Crabbe wasn't in sight.

"What kind of cards're these, Grease-perra?" Crabbe grunted from behind her, and she quickly turned around on her knees, panicking. Her panic left her and she nearly smiled as she saw him pick up one of the cards. Gathering together the rest of the deck, she stood up and walked over to Crabbe, who was staring at the card with a stupid expression.

"Whad's id say?" she asked, her broken and bleeding nose hindering her speech.

"Fire," said Crabbe. Vesperra stood behind him to see it, and the picture showed a crackling fire, moving as all Wizarding pictures did, but rather than being fueled by logs of wood, there were what looked like human bones. When he looked at her confusedly, she put on an expression of faint curiosity, and said nothing. Crabbe frowned, and stuffed the card into his robe pocket before walking off to the classroom.

A sense of sadistic satisfaction invaded her, and she wanted to laugh out loud. She had finally had the chance to use the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards… and Crabbe got fire. If only Malfoy had stayed behind and picked up one of the cards… but Vesperra was sure he'd have been in Borgin and Burkes before, so what if he recognized them?

She walked back over to her bag, which lay where she had landed, and she saw a few drops of blood on the floor that must have been from her nose. Then she looked at the hand that she had been holding her nose with, and there was blood on that as well. Wiping her hand on her robes, she grabbed her bag and made for the classroom, until she heard another unwelcome voice behind her.

"Good afternoon, Miss D'Monicas! You're lucky I'm running a bit late as well, I was just speaking to Professor Snape—Good Lord, what happened to your nose?"

Lockhart stopped in front of her, frowning. "I fell," she said.

"Well it appears to be broken… Here, I'll fix it for you—"

"No!" Her eyes widened and she covered her nose as soon as Lockhart pulled out his wand. She had heard how he tried to heal Potter's broken arm after the Quidditch game but ended up removing all the bones in his arm. Even if that hadn't happened, she would still never trust him to heal her. "Don'd—"

"Don't worry, it won't hurt a bit—I'm an expert—"

"No, you're nod. I'll go do Badab Pobfrey—"

"Nonsense, I can just fix you up right here…" Vesperra didn't bother arguing and just began to leave with a sharp wave of one hand to cover up the rude gesture she almost made. "Oh—is that a deck of cards?"

Vesperra stopped, realizing that she was still holding the cards and that he must have seen them. Her lips curled into a smirk, and she slowly turned around. "Id's nod jusd any deg of gards, Professor," she said in a careful tone as she could do with her broken nose hindering her speech, pausing a moment before glancing at the cards and offering the deck to him. Lockhart smiled his usual roguish smile and didn't seem suspicious at all, which she figured might not even be a result of her careful gestures—he was just an idiot.

Taking the top card, he gave a confused smile and said, "'Insanity'… Hmm—what are these exactly, tarot cards?"

"You gould gall dem dad…" Lockhart made to hand her back the card, but she put the deck back in her robe pocket and said, "Geep id, Professor." She then turned and left, leaving him before he could tell her a story about some bewitched cards he might have come across in one of his adventures, or whatever.

She wasn't originally going to get her nose healed, and had planned on staying in class despite the pain and waiting for it to heal on its own, but now she had no choice. Vesperra supposed that with her nose the way it was, it was best to get it put right so Malfoy and the others wouldn't have another thing to tease her about anyway.

After taking the stairs down to the ground floor, she crossed through the Entrance Hall and began walking down one of the side-corridors that would lead her to the Hospital Wing. Turning a corner, she saw Severus walking in her direction.

* * *

It was one of his free afternoons, so Severus didn't hurry as he usually would have to leave the staffroom after lunch. He had been caught up in a conversation with Flitwick just then, but the other man had other things to attend to, so he promptly left to return to his office. What he didn't expect to see as he headed to the Entrance Hall was Vesperra.

Actually, he didn't recognize her until he got closer, because there was blood on her face, dripping from her nose, which was obviously broken and bent at an odd angle.

"What the hell happened to you?" he said, stopping in front of her.

"By face had an ibpagd with the floor," she answered, glad to see him but feeling as though this wasn't the best time.

Severus furrowed his brow, hoping he understood her right. "Who did it?"

Deciding not to lie, she said, "Grabbe—well, Balfoy dold hib do."

Since she had initially seemed reluctant to tell him what happened, he guessed that she didn't want him to know what she had done afterward. "I take it Crabbe received his comeuppance?" She nodded. "And did you _do_ anything to Malfoy, or…?"

"Doday's been sord of a war of rebenge," explained Vesperra. "He hubiliaded me, so I hubiliaded hib, so he decided to hab Grabbe breag by nose…"

"Ah, yes—Flitwick told me that you gave him a bald spot with a Severing Charm," said Severus, almost smirking. It was impossible to do so when looking straight at Vesperra's bloody face. He assumed that she had been heading to the Hospital Wing, but saw no reason to let her continue on when he was right there. Stepping forward and dropping to his knees, he took her face in one hand and pulled out his wand, pointing it at her nose. She looked slightly surprised, but didn't refuse to let him help her. Severus nonverbally cast _Episkey_, and watched as her nose straightened itself into its normal shape.

Vesperra's nose suddenly felt very hot, then very cold before the pain was gone altogether. Watching him as he healed her nose, she saw that he had the same calmly determined look in his eyes she had noticed the day of the Quidditch game when he had been drying her off. He hadn't said anything about helping her—he just decided to and didn't waste another moment in doing it. Severus kept his wand pointed at her face, and siphoned off all the blood as well, letting go of her face.

"Thanks," she said, feeling her nose. "I should get back to Defense Against the Dark Arts now—" He immediately put his hand in between her shoulder blades and turned her around, walking with her back the direction whence she came.

"I was already going in that direction," he explained.

"What was Lockhart talking to you about earlier?" asked Vesperra as the question sprung into her mind.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "How d—?"

"Lockhart said he'd just come from talking to you when he was late getting to class."

_Late to his own lesson?_ he thought, annoyed. "He was attempting to convince me to continue to help him with the Dueling Club… Obviously, I refused."

"He still hasn't disbanded it?"

"Apparently not."

They talked until they had to part ways, and both of them wondered what the chances were that they would run into each other unintentionally. It had happened at least three times before… But when they thought about it, it didn't seem so unlikely. They had reasons for being the places that they were, and those reasons were usually similar. And Vesperra and Severus had long since accepted that their thought patterns were very similar.

* * *

It wasn't as difficult to tolerate Lockhart for the rest of that day's lesson after she had had him take one of the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards… In fact, she was in a good mood for the rest of that night. The only problem was… his card had been 'insanity.' How could he be cursed with insanity when he was already insane? She guessed he would just become worse… And she hoped it would be enough that he'd have to be carted off to the mental ward in St. Mungo's soon. _Wait—how soon is soon?_

Mr. Borgin had said "Offer the deck to an enemy, and they are inflicted with the curse of the card they choose"… But curses were often not immediate. It could just mean that they'd be prone to such things, and that would be the thing that eventually causes their end. There weren't many possible scenarios in which 'insanity' could harm Lockhart before it finally defeated him, so that must mean that it would be soon. And everyone knew that there was a supposed curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job—so if it was real, he'd be gone within the year anyway.

As for Crabbe, she was suddenly feeling doubtful. She hadn't offered the deck to him, they had scattered everywhere and he had picked it up off the ground. Would it even work? And what if the victims weren't supposed to keep the card?

Vesperra blamed Mr. Borgin for not telling her more about the cards when he had sold them to her. There wasn't anything she could do now except wait and see if the curse of the cards worked on Crabbe and Lockhart, and that could be a while… _Wait—yes, there is._

The next morning, she first checked to see that Millicent was asleep—she was, then rummaged around in her schoolbag for a quill and a small piece of parchment. On that, she began writing her letter to Mr. Borgin, which felt strange because she had never actually written a letter before. Unlike the way she communicated with Severus everyday, this would have to sound formal and slightly degrading, because she figured that the Lestranges weren't known for being very polite to their inferiors.

Finally after much crossing-out and careful thinking, she had written what she called a suitable letter.

_Mr. Borgin,  
__Last August, I purchased the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards from your shop. I recall you telling me to offer the deck to an enemy and that they would be inflicted with the curse of the card they chose, but the lack of certain details on my part could be problematic. Is it necessary for me to directly offer the cards to them, or would they be cursed just by picking up the card, even if they were sitting in front of them? Must all of the cards of the deck be together when the victim takes it? Is there anything in particular that needs to be done with the card after they've chosen it?  
__Before realizing that you told me none of this, I had already experienced these problems, and I would be highly disappointed if any of the cards had gone to waste. Disappointment does not sit well with me.  
__On an unrelated note, I would like to know if you know any tradesmen or otherwise that could provide me with Antimony.  
__~Vesperra Lestrange_

It was the perfect blend of writing in a style that expressed her hierarchical status and implied threats. She decided to add the bit about Antimony because she knew how difficult it would be for Severus to come by, and had figured that Mr. Borgin was likely to have contacts that traded illegally or had procured rare potion ingredients, so why not use her superiority to her advantage?

And of course, she had to sign it with _Vesperra Lestrange_—not_ D'Monicas_, because Mr. Borgin probably wouldn't even recognize that as a Wizarding name… and then everything would have fallen to shit.

She rolled up the parchment and sealed it, then got dressed and left her dorm. When she passed through the Common Room, only a handful Slytherins were in there, and they weren't surprised to see her passing through early on a Saturday morning, since she usually did. As she left the dungeons and made the long walk up several flights of stairs to the owlery, it really dawned on her that she was sending a letter by owl for the first time in her life, and it was a professional one to boot.

At last she made it to the top of the West Tower, and entered a stone, circular room. The floor was covered in straw, owl droppings, and regurgitated skeletons of small animals that crunched under her shoes when she walked. It being one of the higher towers, the floor was frozen and she had to be careful not to slip. Vesperra quickly found an owl and tied the letter to its foot.

"Take that to Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley," she told it. It blinked at her, then shot its wings out and took off, soaring out the glassless windows. She watched it fly away and into the fog for a few seconds before taking off herself, and returning to the dungeons.

* * *

This was the first time Severus had been glad that Vesperra was too busy with schoolwork to spend Sunday evening with him. It wasn't a normal Sunday—it was the thirty-first… Lily's birthday. And like he did every year, he had planned to leave Hogwarts that night and Apparate to Godric's Hollow so he could visit her grave.

He always could have told Vesperra to get back to her dorm at some point during the night and left afterward, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep himself from grabbing her arm and whisking her out of there to go with him. Now that he thought about it, that might be a good way to tell her when he finally did… Or at least, he knew that the first thing he did after he told her would be to take her there.

When he reached her marble tombstone that night, Severus kneeled there in the mud for what felt like forever, just staring at it, not even attempting to understand the distinction between all the emotions thrashing about inside him like a storm. His immense grief and guilt were pierced by other things… but he wasn't sure what they were. He couldn't possibly feel any of his usual hatred for James Potter and his son when he was paying his respects to her, but with everything that had gone on so far that year… Potter had been making it pretty bloody hard for him. He had put his own life in danger and was stupid enough to get into situations that would be impossible for Severus to rescue him from. Severus had nearly failed already…

And then there was Vesperra. Though he was extremely grateful just for her existence, when he was right there _looking_ at Lily's tombstone… he suddenly didn't want to believe that it was possible for him to ever love anything but her, even if it was only in a paternal or friendship sort of way. But… what if Lily wanted him to? What if, wherever she was, she was watching over him? Surely she wanted her son to end up defeating the Dark Lord as well, and she must know that Severus protecting him was crucial… and assuming that she was currently omniscient, she would know that having Vesperra helped him, and would likely drive him to protect Potter even more.

He didn't know.

Severus ran his thumb over her name carved in the marble, and finally let himself cry. _You should be here… You should be _alive_, not dead because I made a mistake… And you should be happy, like you always were just because you were such a wonderful person, and celebrating your birthday… You don't deserve to be dead, you never did anything to deserve death, never… It was my punishment, not yours. _

Conjuring a lily, he turned the delicate stem in his fingers before laying it on the grave to replace the one that must have been blown or washed away the past year since he'd been there. Severus kissed his fingers and touched her name on the marble, then heard a bell chime from the church in the distance—_midnight_. He stood up, cleaned the mud off of himself, and forced himself to walk away from that place. Each step was a greater pain to take.

* * *

**The reason this one was short isn't what you're thinking- I know exactly what I'm doing and I have the rest of this year planned out chapter by chapter and every event, canon or head-canon. But the things at the beginning of the next chapter just wouldn't make sense at the end of this one. **

**And I really wish Sev would hurry up and tell Vesperra about Lily, don't you? I tried to tell him, but he won't listen to me. **

**As always, I would love it if you left a review. Seriously, you people don't understand the power of reviews.**


	24. Book 2: Chapter 10

**I would have updated earlier today, but I just saw DH2. I swear, my heart shattered into peices and a bit of me died at Snape's death and the Prince's Tale. It's a good thing I have a Horcrux. But I could have sworn I saw Vesperra somewhere... Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter... Oh- and if you don't already, make sure to read Snape's parts in Snape's voice. It really helps with the effect.**

* * *

On Monday morning, the mail came as usual, hundreds of owls flying through the windows and into the Great Hall, landing on the House tables and dropping off letters and packages. When one owl landed right in front of Vesperra's plate and stuck out its leg, everyone turned towards her at once and stared.

Oh _no_… How did she not realize this would happen? She should have told Mr. Borgin to send it at a certain time so that it would arrive in the middle of the day, and she could have been waiting outside so the letter would have found her first…

"Who'd be writing to _you?_" said Malfoy as she untied a small parchment envelope from the owl's leg. Vesperra tried to quickly hide it in her robe pocket, but Pansy, who was nearest, made a grab for it and was nearly able to snatch it out of her hand. But she had a tight grip. Panicking, Vesperra grabbed Pansy's arm and dug her nails into the girl's skin as hard as she could. She let out a yelp of pain and let go, but there was just enough time for Malfoy to lunge forward and make his own attempt to grab it.

As she pulled the envelope out of reach, Malfoy's eyes widened and he said, "You've got—?"

But she never heard exactly what Malfoy thought she had, because another voice, icily soft, cut through the chaos.

"_What_ is the meaning of this?"

* * *

Severus had initially thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw an owl land in front of Vesperra. She was never sent anything… except for on two previous occasions, one being from her mother on Christmas a year ago, and the other from Dumbledore. He had looked to the Headmaster, who seemed not to notice, and decided that it wasn't from him.

What didn't surprise him was that the other Slytherins were either staring at her or lunging for her to take the envelope from her. It wasn't shocking, but it angered him. Immediately, he had left the Staff Table and strode down to the Slytherin table, stopping behind Vesperra.

"_What_ is the meaning of this?" he said. Malfoy was practically lying on the table, reaching out desperately with one arm, and others were in mid-lunge. Everyone looked to him, obviously frightened, though Vesperra looked relieved.

Any other time, she'd have been angry that Severus had intervened, but this was different. If anyone else simply saw the back of the envelope, they would see that it was addressed 'Vesperra Lestrange,' and what the _hell_ would she do then? They were likely to know who the Lestranges were and what they had done, and any who didn't would hear it from Malfoy. And if they were to open it, like she was sure they would have tried if they were able to get it away from her, then she might as well kiss her world goodbye. They couldn't know any of that, or else she'd be risking expulsion for having a Dark object inside the school. If Severus hadn't come, she'd have resorted to curses to get it away from them, which would have been just as bad. She was glad he had seen what was going on and hurried over there.

"They were trying to take my letter, Professor," said Vesperra, turning around and stuffing the envelope in her robes. She had surprised herself by actually speaking, since she never told Severus anything that Malfoy or the others ever said to her even in private… she never wanted to appear weak, or as though she couldn't deal with everything on her own. But there was no use staying silent in this situation, since he was bound to ask her directly anyway.

"But look what she _did_ to me, sir!" said Pansy before Severus could say anything. She pulled back her robe sleeve to show four red nail marks on her forearm that looked if they might bleed, which she shoved in his face as she stood up. The others nodded in agreement, and Vesperra scowled. He resisted the urge to smile, once again at Vesperra's tendency for fierce anger, and looked coldly at Parkinson.

"You should feel lucky that you received merely _this_, Miss Parkinson, for I would have done worse if you had attempted to take a personal letter out of _my_ own hands," he said. "As for the rest of you, I would like to know what exactly has piqued your interest about Miss D'Monicas's letter so badly that you would forcibly take it from her." Severus scanned his eyes over them, at which many of them promptly looked down.

"Well, Professor," Malfoy said once he slid back into a sitting position, making an obvious effort to appear innocent, "she never gets anything, so it's only natural that we would be curious—"

"And_ curiosity_ warrants the lot of you stealing her letter, denying her the ability to at least read it before you did?" said Severus. They were all silent, apparently at a loss for words. He waited a few seconds before continuing in a softer, more dangerous tone. "I would demand an explanation out of each of you, but it isn't necessary. The answer is simple—not one of you has any respect for privacy. I highly doubt that any of you believed that Miss D'Monicas would _want_ to share the contents of her letter with you."

_That, and because they all hate me_, thought Vesperra, sure that the rest of them were thinking the same thing. Severus knew it as well, but to voice it would be feeding the fire that was their suspicions of his and Vesperra's relationship. As a teacher, he was not supposed to care if one student hated another, because that wasn't an excuse for acts such as this.

There was a short silence in which Vesperra glanced at the others' faces, and gladly noted the fear etched upon them. Malfoy chanced a look at her, a look full of hatred... but it didn't last, because he was obviously scared that Severus might see.

"None of you will receive detention," Severus finally said, watching each of them relax in relief except for Vesperra, who scowled again. "Mainly because eight detentions would require much of my time to sort out, and I have more important things to occupy my evenings. The only one of you that actually managed to do anything was Miss Parkinson, and I believe Miss D'Monicas has already given her a fair punishment. The next time I catch any of you touching _what isn't yours_, I may not be so lenient."

There was also the fact that they were all Slytherins, and as much as he hated them at the moment for what they had been doing, he just couldn't punish his own House too harshly. If he had, it would seem obvious that he was doing it for Vesperra… It seemed that more and more things were happening that caused him to show bits and pieces of his true colors—when it came to Vesperra, at least. Some of them, namely Malfoy, might eventually be able to put all of them together.

Severus swept his dark eyes over them one last time, passing over Vesperra's very briefly, and returned to the Staff Table.

* * *

Vesperra shifted in her seat to face the table once again, and most of the others did the same. A scowl remained on her face as she ate, but she felt a strange stillness in the air. Everyone else was silent, and though she was looking at her plate, she could tell that they were all staring at her.

"Well, we know it couldn't be from her parents," said Tracey suddenly in a hushed tone.

"Not necessarily, Tracy," Pansy said. "They could be writing to see whether she can stay away forever."

Vesperra ignored them as they kept guessing about her letter and laughed at their own cleverness. None of them came close to the truth, which she was relieved to note, but she realized something rather odd as well… Malfoy didn't speak the entire time.

Throughout the day, Vesperra kept one hand on her robes and stayed alert at all times, paranoid that someone would try to pickpocket the letter off of her. She wouldn't put it past any of them, Malfoy especially. But she was anxious to open it, and knew that she couldn't do so until she was in the privacy of her own dorm. Then, there was Severus… Surely he'd be curious as well, and as much as it pained her to lie to him, she could not tell him the truth. Not only would he appalled at her for ever having entered Knockturn Alley, but he'd know what she'd done to Crabbe and Lockhart (if it had even worked), which she would find out once she opened the letter from Mr. Borgin. But she didn't think she could stand the shame that she would be sure to feel if Severus were to find out. So she spent her time trying to invent a lie and convince herself that it was true so she didn't feel so bad about telling it to Severus.

Though extremely anxious to read the letter, Vesperra thought it best to wait until nightfall, instead of during the break after lunch. For the time being, she wanted to head up to the library to get some homework done. As she left the Great Hall and wound her way through the corridors, she eventually came to an empty one, which she hurried to walk through. It didn't feel right… Making a split-second decision, she spun around on one foot, prepared for anything. When she saw Malfoy walking towards her, she wasn't sure whether she had expected it or not. If she hadn't, she figured she should have.

He didn't seem surprised that she had sensed his presence, but walked faster toward her. Glancing behind him first, he folded his arms and said, "Why did you get a letter from Borgin and Burkes, Grease-perra?"

It was lucky Vesperra had long been skilled in the ability to hide what she was feeling or thinking, because her heart began beating frantically and her mind was playing ominous music. She made sure not to let her eyes or tone give away that she had, indeed, gotten a letter from Borgin and Burkes, or that she was wondering how the hell he knew. There was always the chance that he was just guessing, and that's what she was hoping for… But at this point, she could only talk her way out of it.

"I didn't, _Malfoy_," she said in a quiet and dangerous voice, reminding herself of how Severus often spoke. But he only scowled and stepped closer, forcing her to back up against the wall.

"It's no use lying; I _saw_ the envelope, Grease-perra!" he hissed. "It had the Borgin and Burkes seal, and my father's gotten enough letters from there that I know what it looks like. You bought something there when you were in Knockturn Alley, didn't you?" Malfoy's eyes searched hers, possibly for a hint of fear, but her eyes didn't betray her. She had resigned not to even blink until he quit.

"And where do you suppose I would get the _money_ to buy anything from there?" said Vesperra, testing the waters and seeing just how much Malfoy knew before deciding on a plan. "Or enough respect not to be thrown out the minute I walked in?" She hid her ring from view, but he wasn't looking at her hand, anyway.

"Knowing you, you probably stole it. And as for respect… I dunno. You look filthy enough to make people think you're dangerous, what with all the ugly hags that do their business down in Knockturn Alley… But I want to know why Mr. Borgin would send you anything."

Apparently, he didn't know anything else. With no other choice, Vesperra thought that this would be a good time to appear slightly afraid and defeated.

"Have you told anyone else about it, Malfoy?" she asked. Although, the fact that he had come without Crabbe or Goyle should have answered it for her. If he didn't want them to come along to protect him, then he must not want anyone else to know just yet. She just had to make sure.

"No, and lucky I didn't, or else everyone would be on your case, and that would only make things more difficult for me."

Vesperra leaned back against the wall and frowned, relaxing her shoulders as she exhaled so that she'd look as though she felt she had no other choice but to tell him. "Fine, Malfoy," she said, causing him to smirk in triumph. "If you must know, I _did_ go to Borgin and Burkes, and I—_Obliviate!_"

She cut off mid-sentence, just when he was least expecting it, and pulled her wand out on him. Malfoy's hand had barely reached his pocket when Vesperra had cast the Memory Charm, which was strong enough to send him flying backwards a few feet. It should have made him forget about seeing the Borgin and Burkes seal on the envelope and confronting her. But it didn't seem to have knocked him out, so before he could get up, she found the nearest door and opened it to hide inside.

In her panic, she had completely forgotten where she was in the castle, but now she quickly realized that she had entered Lockhart's office. The year before, it had been Quirrell's. She had only been in there once—the time she served detention, which she had gotten on purpose as part of her plan to get revenge on Malfoy. It looked completely different now…

Severus had told her about it, but she didn't think she'd be this disgusted. Lining the walls were several portraits of Lockhart, all standing in fanciful robes, waving and smiling toothily at her. Next to his desk, there was a large bag full of what she assumed to be fanmail. Vesperra began walking around the room in spite of herself, narrowing her eyes at everything she observed. She went over to his small bookshelf just to see what sort of books he had, and saw all the ones that he had written. The rest were books on beauty spells and wizard fashion, none of which she cared about.

Briefly, Vesperra wondered why Lockhart didn't lock his office door, but it then occurred to her that he must be too naïve to think that anyone would want to get into his office and steal from him. He would be correct about the latter, since he didn't own anything worth stealing. Either way, she was lucky that the door had been open to let her hide for a few minutes. Pressing an ear to the door, she detected no sound of footsteps, so she assumed it would be safe to leave and quickly did so.

On her way to the library, Vesperra couldn't help but think about how close of a call that was. Hopefully she wouldn't have to use _Obliviate_ this often… But Malfoy was bound to discover more things, thus requiring her to. She _was_ getting better at Memory Charms, though, she supposed. As long as only she and Severus knew that she could cast one, they might just end up getting her out of the majority of future situations.

Later, after eating her fill at dinner, Vesperra went straight to her dorm and didn't hesitate in reaching inside her robe pocket and taking out the envelope. In the middle of it on the front side was a black wax seal with two spiky 'B's overlapping. She felt a stab of annoyance when she saw it, once again feeling stupid for not having made plans to keep the knowledge that she had been sent anything from everyone else.

It was crumpled from her hasty untying of it and Pansy trying to wrench it out of her hands, so she tried to flatten it out before opening. Vesperra unsealed it, pulled out the folded length of parchment, and read it.

_Miss Lestrange,_

_My humblest apologies for making the mistake of not foreseeing your problems. I should have told you more about the cards at the time, but I assure you that there is no reason to be disappointed._

_The Twenty-Six Malignant Cards are rather curious objects, because they don't, in fact, have to be offered. The curse of each card takes effect as long as the victim takes the card out of their own free will without knowing what it is before picking it up. However, I believe that the effects will be sooner and stronger if the deck is together and offered directly._

_If you're still not sure, check the box that was created specifically to hold the cards. The designs corresponding to the cards that have already been taken will have disappeared. You can't do anything with the cards after they're chosen, because they'll disappear on their own within the hour. Once all the cards have been dealt, they will reappear back in the box and will be unusable to you. The Cards recognize their owner, you see, so no one else can use them now, either._

_As for providing you with Antimony, I don't have many acquaintances in the substance trading business, but I will contact you if I get word of anyone managing to get their hands on any._

_~Braxius Borgin _

Vesperra practically laughed out loud when she finished reading it, but caught herself. But then she realized that she was alone, so who cared? She laughed.

Mainly, it was that the Cards must have worked, which meant that both Lockhart and Crabbe were cursed. She also felt a strange sense of power by reading the letter. It was obvious that Mr. Borgin had been trying his best to sound polite and sophisticated despite the fact that he usually wasn't, and that showed through his choice of words.

Now that she had the information she wanted, Vesperra had no use for the letter. She didn't want it to be found, so she used a Hover Charm to keep it suspended in midair, then set it on fire with another spell. She watched it burn up until it was nothing, and was vaguely reminded of the Emberys she had seen in Knockturn Alley. It didn't reappear with a shimmer, though.

At once, she went over to her school trunk and unlocked it, then after a minute pulled out a small, wooden box with intricate designs around the sides. Vesperra turned it around until she found an empty spot on one side, and another on the adjacent side, which could only have been 'Fire' and "Insanity.' That settled it… she had really done it.

As if on cue, her journal began thumping against her ribs, and she was sure of the first thing Severus would say to her.

* * *

_Who sent you that letter this morning?_

_**My mum.**_

_May I ask what it was about?_

_**I'm sorry, but you can't. It's just too personal for me to tell you.**_

Vesperra had eventually decided that the best lie she could invent was none at all. That way, there wouldn't be any trouble later on. The only untrue statement was that it had been from her mum, but she knew he wouldn't press it if she said that she couldn't tell him. There was a mutual understanding between them that they both had secrets. She knew for a fact that Severus kept certain parts of his life from her, and that he knew she kept certain parts of her life from him. Some of those parts, she was sure, would remain unsaid forever—or as long as possible, at least.

_Fine, then. I'm sorry for asking. But I can't believe Malfoy and the rest of them were stupid enough to think that they would get away with nearly devouring you to get the letter._

_**People like us will never have any privacy, because we're the ones that want it the most.**_

_People like us?_

_**You know, the people that grew up without being cared about. The people that everyone hate. The ones who spend all of their time in the potion labs on their own. **_

_It's not so much that we can't have privacy that too many people want to know what goes on in our private lives. But you're right, when people boast too much, no one cares. When people keep an air of mystery about them, everyone is suddenly much too interested._

_**Being interested doesn't necessarily mean that they'll do anything about it. Taking action is reserved for those who are especially despicable, like Malfoy.**_

_Please tell me he didn't confront you about it after breakfast._

_**He didn't. He confronted me about it after lunch.**_

_What happened?_

_**Nothing. He guessed about it and was wrong, made a hollow threat, then left.**_

Vesperra really did feel awful about lying to him about this, even though she knew she couldn't possibly tell him. But if there were ever an instant that would prove that he wouldn't be extremely angry with her afterward, she would have told him in a second. She felt the desire to at least tell him as much as possible without revealing the important details, because at least then she wouldn't be lying so much.

_What did he guess?_

_**Naturally, that it had something to do with you and me. I suppose that's why he and the others were so eager to read my letter.**_

Their nightly conversations all seemed to fall into categories. There were the ones full of sarcastic remarks in which they couldn't help but laugh like they wouldn't dare do any other time… There were the ones where they speculated on the Chamber of Secrets business, desperate to come up with something remotely close to an answer… There were the ones where they shared trivial details of their lives to each other just because there was nothing better to talk about—not that they didn't like it, because they grew closer… And then there were the ones like tonight, where they had intelligent conversations about life. It, of course, had merged into the topic of their relationship and how Malfoy grew ever more curious about them. Though tonight's was based on a lie, it was just as serious as usual.

* * *

A week into February, Vesperra realized, along with the rest of the school, that it had been nearly three months without a single attack. Many of the students believed that the Heir of Slytherin must have lost their nerve, but they would have thought differently if they knew that the Heir of Slytherin was Lord Voldemort. It wasn't likely that the Dark Lord would 'lose his nerve.'

Malfoy, of course, had been disappointed. He spent an entire lunch period talking about how the Heir of Slytherin was such a coward, and that he should be willing to risk getting caught to finish Salazar Slytherin's work in getting rid of all the Mudbloods in Hogwarts.

Vesperra didn't take either of those views. She couldn't be relieved, because things like this never just stopped all of a sudden. There had to be something bigger, something more sinister behind it. Voldemort wouldn't just stop the attacks for no reason… There had to be something. And as much as she'd love to say that he'd been scared away and that the rest of the year was going to be a normal one, she wasn't going to fool herself into thinking that everything would be all fine and dandy, because it never was. She had learned that the hard way, every single day of her life up to the one that she met Severus, and then some.

The thing was, she wasn't afraid for herself in the least bit. She was a Half-Blood, so Slytherin's monster wouldn't come after her. She was safe to roam the corridors alone. But Severus had a lot of responsibility, and she refused to let him shoulder it on his own.

Until the attacks started again, which she had no doubt that they would, there was nothing to do but wait in agonizing suspense for something to happen. And then when they did start again, there would be nothing to do but wait for answers to present themselves, and panic internally as the school crumbled around her—metaphorically, hopefully—and chaos ensued.

Perhaps she was too pessimistic. Perhaps Vesperra needed to take advantage of the waiting time and instead of stressing out and pacing her dorm, _enjoy_ it. She knew there was more to life than suffering—having Severus taught her that, but it was a bit difficult to get out of the habit.

* * *

The fact that the castle seemed to be calming down relieved Severus, possibly more than it did Vesperra. While he, too, did not believe that it was over, he was glad that Potter must not have been in any danger for the past few months and likely wouldn't be for a while. Then again, no one really knew what the length would be of waiting period that Voldemort was taking in between attacks, or why he was taking it in the first place.

He couldn't convince himself that something had driven Voldemort out of the castle, not that he tried. What could possibly scare _him_ away? But he couldn't completely deny that possibility, either, seeing as they didn't know any of the details of how he got in. Nonetheless, the chances were slim.

Now that he thought about it, the chances that any of this would even happen were slim. Well, perhaps not with Potter in the castle. That raised the chances of chaos at least thirty percent. But if any event would have slim chances in a normal setting, wouldn't it be likely? No, he couldn't think that way… Severus just decided to expect anything and everything.

Although, he did share Vesperra's pessimistic view for the most part. This wasn't over yet… it just couldn't be. However, evil seemed to be put on hold for now.

What was worse and much more difficult to deal with was the irritating pest known as Lockhart. No, 'irritating' was an understatement… _Infuriating_ was more like it. The man seemed to believe that the attacks had stopped solely because of _him_, that _he_ had been the one to stop the Heir of Slytherin. He figured that his very presence in the castle was enough warning for the culprit, and that the Heir was too afraid to continue with the prospect of being caught by Lockhart.

Severus wondered what would happen if he just let slip to Lockhart who the Heir of Slytherin actually was… He'd probably shit his pants. But it _did_ seem likely that Lockhart could have driven Voldemort away… All he had to do was loudly praise himself constantly, which he did, and Voldemort would collapse in frustration (if that were even possible for someone who was intangible) as he was unable to punch Lockhart in his form, and decide he couldn't take being in the same castle as the man anymore. Then he'd leave.

If only it were that easy. Still, Lockhart wasn't helping, even though he thought he was. In fact, he began talking about 'plans' that he had to cheer everyone up after last term. He never gave any details, but merely said that he was sure everyone would love it. Severus didn't worry too much until he heard Lockhart speaking to Dumbledore about it and asking permission to arrange a surprise that no one but him would know about until it happened, and Dumbledore agreed that everyone could use some cheering up. Whatever it was, Severus was sure that it would _not_ cheer him up.

"I've no doubt that you will all _love_ what I prepared," said Lockhart excitedly as Severus and some of the other teachers passed through the staffroom on the morning of February 14th. He saw that the man was wearing lurid pink robes, and felt sick at sight of them. Quickly looking away for his own safety, he scowled and made his way to the door that led to the Great Hall.

It suddenly made sense why Lockhart was wearing those robes. The walls of the Great Hall were covered, with a few inches space in between, in flowers to match the sickening color of Lockhart's robes. Here and there, bows and ribbons adorned tables, all the same color.

"I may vomit," said Severus. He turned to Lockhart, who was smiling as if extremely proud of himself. "And Dumbledore gave you permission to do _this?_"

"Of course he did!" Lockhart said, looking around at his decorations. "It's unfortunate that he had to run off to the Ministry for the day and miss out on the fun himself."

Severus couldn't even speak. But he didn't have to, because McGonagall spoke for him. "What _is_ this, Gilderoy?" She didn't look quite as disgusted as he did, but she was definitely uncomfortable being surrounded by nothing but pink.

"Why, I'm only celebrating one of the most important holidays of the year—Valentine's Day! The school's been in a nervous state lately, and I had _just_ the thing to boost everyone's morale!" Lockhart gestured around, taking his seat and grinning. The other teachers reluctantly took theirs as well. "We need an air of _love_ around here, and can't you feel it? Trust me, I receive it too many times a day, but it's never tiring. And now, it'll be refreshing! Love is one thing I believe everyone deserves," he finished as-a-matter-of-factly, tapping his nose.

Severus had never celebrated Valentine's Day once in his life, not even as a child, with Lily. Not once. It had always been a pointless holiday to him… Celebrating _love_? That was just stupid, and a complete waste of time. Oh, that didn't mean that he didn't love, because he loved very much. But the fact that he had loved so much kept him from enjoying the day.

As a small child, he'd never been loved. Or at least, he had never felt like it. Looking back on it, his mother might have loved him, but never knew how to express it. That had led to a childhood of feeling nothing but hatred and sadness until he'd noticed a girl do extraordinary things at the local park, things that she wouldn't be able to do if she were a Muggle. Just by watching her, spying from behind a bush as she swung on the swings and jumped off, landing far too lightly, he had fallen in love with her. He had fallen _so_ deeply in love with her at that young age… so deeply that he could never climb out if he tried.

But how could he have, as a nine year-old boy who'd learned the hard way not to let his heart betray him, expressed how much he loved her? The years passed… Seven years as best friends, and he fell deeper and deeper in love, and yet he could never tell her how much he loved her. He never told her, and he believed that to be one of the biggest mistakes of his life. If only he had told her, then perhaps he never would have even felt the desire to become a Death Eater. But he _hadn't_, because he didn't know how to. He hadn't known how to express that he loved her more than anything.

So for him, Valentine's Day had been nothing. As much as he loved her, he never acknowledged the day or ever gave her flowers or chocolate or a heart-shaped card just because other people were doing it. If he had had the bravery to display such affections, he would have been doing so everyday, not just once a year. What was more, people tended to be cheerful on that day. Lily was annoyed by his loathing for happiness, but embraced it all the same. She'd have liked him to celebrate Valentine's Day, and she'd told him so several times, but she accepted that he didn't understand or like the emotion called 'love.' She, like too many others to count, assumed wrong. He did not hate love; he just didn't like to allow people to see what he was feeling. And he was also too insecure to admit that he did allow himself a bit of weakness and to feel love.

He had loved Lily for twenty-four years now. He hadn't stopped loving her after she stopped being his friend, nor after she married the man he hated just as passionately as he loved her, and not even after she bore his son. Not even after she died. He'd had eleven years to move on, but he hadn't. Now, he had still never remembered the date of Valentine's Day, mainly because most people didn't. But when he noticed the few cards and candies being passed around and had the vague sense of what day it was, it sickened him. There was _not_ love in the air at all. All the teenagers snogging in the corridors and what not… they had no idea what love was. They could never feel love as he felt it… Never. It was merely a pale imitation of what people expected love to be, but love wasn't flowers and hearts and fruitiness. Love was something that could only be felt alongside with pain, true pain, something that no one else in the room, especially not Lockhart, had ever felt.

And that was why he sat in his seat at the Staff Table now, practically slipping into an Occlumency-like state so that he didn't become too overwhelmed with anger or memories, the feelings from which he wasn't sure of. It involved anger, at least. All he knew was that he felt like strangling Lockhart at the moment. But when didn't he?

Quickly, the Great Hall was filled with students, and each of their reactions to the horrific décor would have been entertaining to Severus if he wasn't in a murderous state at the moment. When there were a fair amount of students present, Lockhart leaned over to him and said cheerfully, "You haven't even seen it all."

Lockhart waved his wand at the ceiling, and heart-shaped confetti began falling from it. Shaking slightly out of anger, Severus reached up to his hair and wiped all the confetti out of it. It was getting all over his eggs, too—_Oh, what an ingenious idea, Lockhart… How does he even expect us to eat?_

"The best part is yet to come," said Lockhart, who was apparently under the impression that none of the other teachers wanted to kill him. "But we'll just have to wait until the whole school gets here."

Oh, he could wait. He could definitely wait.

* * *

_Holy shit._ Vesperra couldn't believe what she saw as she went to the Great Hall that morning. As usual, she was one of the earlier people to get to breakfast, and she was nearly blinded by the pinkness. She stopped dead at the threshold, glancing around at the House tables to make sure she was in the right room.

Warily, she walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down where she normally did. Since Malfoy and the rest of the second year Slytherins weren't there yet, she looked straight at Severus, who was sitting at the Staff Table, scowling just as she was. He noticed her looking after a moment, realized what she was trying to ask, and jerked his head towards Lockhart.

Of course. She should have known this was Lockhart's doing the moment she walked in—who else? Besides, he was wearing ghastly robes to match. But this was… just _disgusting_. She tried to ignore the flowers and ribbons and just eat, but she suddenly lost her appetite. That was okay, though, because heart-shaped confetti soon began to fall from the ceiling and it would be impossible to pick it all off her food, anyway.

More and more students came in, many of them looking disgusted as well—though not as much as she was, and some of them, mostly girls, squealing in excitement and giggling profusely. In fact, she was one of the only girls not happy about this. When Malfoy swaggered in, he and his cronies stopped like she had, looking horrified. They slowly continued to the Slytherin table, and seemed to forget their hatred towards her in their confusion.

"What the hell is this?" said Malfoy, sitting down.

Vesperra was the only other person at the table besides Crabbe and Goyle, so one would assume that he was speaking to her. But he could always be talking to himself. Nevertheless, she answered, and with gritted teeth. "Lockhart did it."

"How do _you_ know?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said, annoyed. "Look at him."

As much as they loathed each other, Malfoy and Vesperra hated the same people—Potter and Lockhart, mainly. And when one of those two was being a right pain in the arse, they tended to leave each other alone for the moment. It wasn't until Tracey and Daphne showed up that they understood what was going on—apparently, it was Valentine's Day. Vesperra deepened her scowl, which was obvious with every line of her face—her harshly furrowed brow, her lip twitching in annoyance, her stiff jaw that meant she was gritting her teeth, her temples caving further in, and the fathomless depth in her eyes that held nothing but coldness at the moment.

But Tracey and Daphne looked to each other and giggled. The rest of them, though, even Pansy, didn't look too thrilled. All the boys seemed to think Valentine's Day was just as stupid as she did.

What was even the point of Valentine's Day? To her, it was just another one of those days where people were happy and felt obliged to express their 'love' more than usual. It made all those who didn't receive anything feel bad—unless, of course, they didn't give a damn about it. Hardly ever having left her own house prior to finally coming to Hogwarts, all she knew about it were bits and pieces from overhearing her parents talking, and sometimes from things on the television that her father was always watching. She had never even considered it a holiday, because it was useless. It didn't celebrate anything that was worth something to her.

"Ooh!" said Daphne, pointing up at the Staff Table, where Lockhart appeared to be waving his arms for attention. Vesperra groaned inwardly and turned slightly, only viewing the man out of the corner of her eye, since she figured she'd puke if she caught full sight of him.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!"

_Forty-six people sent him cards, and not one of them was cursed?_ Vesperra suddenly wished she had known it was Valentine's Day so she'd have been able to send him a biting card or something, but then forced herself to calm down. Lockhart would get what he deserved soon enough.

Tracey and Daphne were beaming, leading Vesperra to believe that they were two of the forty-six. She admitted that this annoyed her more than the fact that anyone else liked Lockhart, because they had to be a couple of the only girls in Slytherin that didn't hate him. And it was just because he was 'handsome.' Blaise was looking bored, Malfoy sneered disgustedly, and Crabbe and Goyle weren't paying attention—they were too immersed in eating, not minding the confetti.

"Yes," continued Lockhart, "I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn't end here!" He clapped his hands and no one realized what he meant by it at first, but then people started turning around and saw what was going on. A dozen dwarves wearing gold wings and carrying harps, looking very out of place doing so, marched through the doors from the Entrance Hall. "My friendly, card-carrying cupids! They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines!"

_Oh Merlin, no. Just kill me now._ Vesperra automatically foresaw this as a perfect chance for Malfoy and the rest of them to torment her, and she hadn't any doubt that they would take advantage of it for as long as they could. But she didn't dare glance at any of them, knowing that she'd see the sparks of growing ideas in their eyes.

"And the fun doesn't stop here!" Lockhart said, and there were audible groans across the Great Hall that implied most people didn't share his interpretation of fun. "I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to whip you up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

He crossed the line with that one. Much of the Great Hall inhaled sharply and stared straight at Severus, afraid of what he would do.

* * *

Up at the Staff Table, Severus's face contorted into an even worse expression. He stared back at everyone who looked at him, not attempting to hide how annoyed and furious he was. Not that they needed telling, but he made sure with his dangerous glare that everyone knew that he would force-feed poison to the first person who asked him for a Love Potion.

Was Lockhart really _that_ stupid? Had all the common sense leaked out of his head due to overuse of hair-care products? Obviously, he couldn't even determine the personality of someone he'd been working with for the past five months. And not to mention, Love Potions were against the rules at Hogwarts, and he had just encouraged the students to use them! Did the man know _nothing_?

Flitwick was burying his face in his hands, and Severus didn't blame him. Though everyone, even those who actually liked Lockhart, looked shocked that he'd said that, he didn't seem to notice and instead sat down looking pleased with himself.

* * *

The dwarves went around the Great Hall, asking students if they wanted to send a Valentine to anyone. The majority of the people that did were girls, so it startled Vesperra into reality when Malfoy leaned over the table and said, "Oi! You—dwarf, cupid, whatever—come over here!"

A particularly surly looking dwarf trotted over, and Pansy stared hopefully, probably thinking he was going to send something to her.

"Grease-perra here wants to send a valentine to Professor Snape—"

"No!" Eyes widening maddeningly, she nearly lunged over the table, but caught herself and just stood, bent over it. The others now understood, and were now smirking evilly at her. Vesperra looked from Malfoy to the dwarf. "_No_, I don't—"

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," said Malfoy casually. "Of course she does."

"Would you like that to be a singing valentine?" asked the dwarf.

"Ooh, that's even better! It should be a song about how she loves his hair and—"

"No, Malfoy!" hissed Vesperra, careful not to be too loud so she didn't draw attention to herself. Turning to the dwarf again, she said in her most dangerous voice possible, "I don't want to send any bloody Valentine, now _go away_!" To her relief he left, though grumbling.

"That wasn't very nice, Grease-perra—I'd think you'd be more polite to your own kin," Pansy said, laughing. Vesperra glared at them and gripped the edge of the table. She was about to get up and leave, but then she figured that would be a bad idea. What Malfoy just did was just to humiliate her and push her to the limit of her anger for fun, but she knew that she moment she took her eyes off him, he'd actually get a dwarf to deliver a valentine to Severus. So she grudgingly stayed behind, and tried her best to ignore the comments they continued to make.

Lockhart had created an endless goldmine for them. All day while walking down the corridors and during classes, they were constantly teasing her about Severus.

"You both hate happiness, so for today you can both sulk in a corner as a date!"

"Oh—we get it, you want to sing him your Valentine in person."

"No, you're nowhere near brave enough to give him anything… You shouldn't be, though, since I'd bet he'd like it."

Things like that.

But the cruelest came from Malfoy, as expected. He made sure to deliver a really low blow every time a dwarf barged into class to deliver a valentine. Out of the Slytherins, Tracey had received two—there was no doubt why—, one of them a singing valentine, Daphne had gotten one, and both Malfoy and Blaise got one. They assumed they were from first years.

Luckily, just before the last class of the day, they passed the Gryffindors, who were on their way to Charms, and Malfoy couldn't resist getting involved in the situation that had happened. A dwarf had pinned Potter down and forced a singing Valentine on him that had been thoroughly humiliating and, by default, hilarious. Vesperra had left before anything else could happen so she wouldn't be late for Transfiguration, but when Malfoy came to class, he was talking about Potter having a diary and seemed furious. Too furious to insult her, even. Well, for the moment, at least.

On the way to dinner, Malfoy walked a few feet away from her, making sure he had the protection of Crabbe and Goyle. Apparently, he still hadn't emptied his arsenal.

"Upset that you didn't get any valentines, Grease-perra? It'd be stupid to expect any, except maybe from the trolls living under the dungeons… Compared to them, you're _almost_ decent-looking. Or I suppose you're just disappointed that Snape didn't send you anything… And honestly, I'm surprised he didn't!"

As they neared the Great Hall, Vesperra stared straight ahead and tried not to listen to him. Malfoy cleared his throat and began speaking in an overexaggerated imitation of Severus's voice. "'Miss D'Monicas, for some unfathomable reason, I find your eyes ravishing and your hair smells delicious—stop by my office for some late-night snogging…' Ha!" Crabbe, Goyle, and the couple other people around laughed with him like they'd never heard anything funnier, and Vesperra clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles quickly turned white.

"Of course, he'd let you in his office any time, so that would be pointless… And there's no need for speculation as to what goes on in _there_—"

Out of anger, fear, and a mess of other emotions that fell into the same category, she lost control. Not control over her magic, control over _herself_. Besides, unintentional magic was unpredictable. She didn't want just anything to happen—she wanted him to shut up. Now.

So she had pulled out her wand and made a sharp jerk of it directly towards Malfoy, saying in a voice of barely controlled fury, "_Guttangusta!_"

No light came from her her wand, but suddenly Malfoy's eyes widened in fear and his jaw seemed locked in place. He staggered and clutched at his throat, coughing in an attempt to breathe. His throat was constricting, and would keep doing so as long as she kept her wand pointed at him. Crabbe and Goyle didn't do anything but look scared and unsure what to do. The others, who were two Ravenclaws who she had only seen in passing before, gasped and backed away. Malfoy tried to get his own wand, but couldn't. The curse was on him for another few seconds until they all heard footsteps, which Vesperra only vaguely noted, growing louder until their owner reached the corridor they were in. Malfoy turned his head weakly to see who his savior was, and looked wholly disappointed.

* * *

Severus had decided to take the long way to the Great Hall so as to avoid Lockhart, who had been insufferable all day. He had walked through one corridor and heard nothing but his own footsteps and the distant sound of students heading to dinner at first. But then there had been an odd noise—a choking noise. So he had hurried along the corridor towards the noise, and came to a small group of students. Vesperra was standing in sort of a fighting stance with a look of pure hatred in her eyes, pointing her wand at Malfoy, who was clutching his throat. She was evidently choking him.

"Take it off him!" he said immediately. Severus knew he didn't need to disarm her—not that he could have brought himself to… She would stop merely because he said so.

Vesperra heard Severus's voice and looked at him, the hatred behind the flame in her eyes dying a little. She ceased focus and let her wand arm fall to her side, and Malfoy stood up properly, breathing in gasps and massaging his throat. Her scowl gradually became less intense, and her anger dissipated, to be replaced with dread. She supposed she was lucky that Severus had found her rather than any other teacher, or she could have been expelled, but that seemed almost preferable to him being disappointed in her.

Slowly, he walked closer to and scrutinized them. If he was being honest with himself, seeing Vesperra perform a curse like that was frightening, even though he had done similar things when he was her age. But she looked as though she'd have killed Malfoy if he hadn't intervened… She'd talked about it jokingly, but he never thought she'd really be capable of murder. And then he wondered what Malfoy must have done for her to get angry enough to do that. He didn't know who to be angry at.

Malfoy looked at him almost pleadingly, but didn't speak—probably because it was too difficult to do so when he had just been nearly choked to death. Vesperra waited in silence for him to say something, dreading what would happen. He seemed to be trying to read her eyes, but all she wanted to do for the time being was to avoid his.

"My office, Miss D'Monicas." said Severus shortly and icily. "Hospital Wing, Malfoy. The rest of you get to dinner."

Before leaving for the Hospital Wing, Malfoy shot her a look that seemed to say, _Oh, you're really gonna get it, now._ But then he glanced at Severus and it was replaced with a disappointed, almost defeated, expression.

Severus led her down to the dungeons but didn't put his hand in between her shoulder blades like he sometimes did, nor did he speak or even glance back at her until they got to his office. But he still cast the Imperturbable Charm as usual when they entered, and sat down on his couch rather than at his desk.

There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue, but he decided first to ask, "Why did you try to kill him?"

When she realized that he must not be too angry with her, Vesperra moved from the spot that she had frozen at, and went to sit at the couch with him. She dared to look into his eyes, which made it a lot more difficult to keep the fear out of hers. "I wasn't trying to kill him," she said. "I would have taken the curse off in a few seconds even if you hadn't shown up. I was—I just wanted to make him shut up, and I wanted him to be afraid to ever say anything ever again."

He knew the feeling. Childhood memories came in flashes of when he'd have liked everyone to just shut up, and he certainly wouldn't have hesitated to choke them like she had—if he had known that curse. And then he needed to know—"Vesperra, where did you learn that curse?" It had been powerful, that much was obvious, and potentially deadly…

_Damn._ She knew he'd ask that, and she spoke with a tone of resentment—not that she had to tell him, but that she had lied to him. "I created it… I'm sorry."

Severus inhaled sharply, and widened his eyes a bit. Vesperra created _that_? For a moment, he nearly smirked, because he was impressed. But then he remembered him asking her if she planned on creating her own spell a while ago, and her saying she wouldn't. Even then, he hadn't believed her… but he had chosen not to stop her.

Feeling just awful, she looked away from his eyes and continued speaking, but to his legs instead. "I really am—you didn't want me to, but I did, and I just outright _lied_ to you… But I just had to—I wanted to know if I could do it, and I spent months on it, and I wanted a spell that would make people shut up, since I couldn't find one… And I couldn't tell you, because I knew you wouldn't approve…You never believed me, did you?"

"No, I didn't," said Severus calmly. He noticed how dead her voice was, and how it seemed to be the worst shame possible for her to have him to be disappointed in something she'd done. This was where she was so much like him—she did things knowing he wouldn't approve, but she truly was ashamed after having done them afterwards. She was afraid of his disappointment, just as he had feared Lily's disappointment as a child whenever he had done something particularly Dark. "You're too… _ambitious_ to have not taken that as a challenge. And… I'm not saying I'm glad, but that's impressive magic."

She looked up at him again, and felt a bit less horrible. He made a brief contemplative expression, then turned so he could face her, bent a bit closer, and firmly gripped her shoulders. "However, Vesperra," he said clearly, making sure that she took in every word, "I don't want you using that anymore—unless you're life's in danger, but in that case, I'd be there to protect you before it was necessary. I _understand_, I really do. I understand completely why you would want to know curses and even create your own, and I know how alluring the Dark Arts can be… especially for people like us. But I've made mistakes because of Dark Magic, Vesperra, _horrible_ mistakes. I would give anything to go back and fix them, but I can't. I fear that you'll make the same mistakes and end up with a horrible life like mine—prior to last year. I… I don't know what I did to deserve you coming into my life, but I'm not going to let that go to waste. I know I can't stop you, and I highly doubt that you'll swear off everything Dark for the rest of your life just because I'm telling you this… but I'm asking you to at least _try _to stray off that path. Promise that you'll try."

And even though he didn't say it, there were two lingering words that they both knew he meant. _For me._

This was the first time he had told her all of this. Vesperra couldn't imagine what sort of mistakes he had made that had been so horrible he believed they had ruined his life, but didn't ask. She knew he must not want to tell her, and figured that he may not tell her for years. There was no telling when… And then she realized that she didn't _really_ know him. She knew what he was like now, and she knew some of his childhood, but the bulk of his past must be much, much more, and thus she had just scraped the surface. Then again, she was sure that only Dumbledore knew more about him than she did, so she should consider it an accomplishment just to know this much.

With the intensity with which he locked eyes with her, she could easily see how much this meant to him. And he meant a lot to her, so anything that meant a lot to him was automatically important to her. He really meant it… He knew what the consequences were, he had experienced and suffered them. Vesperra didn't believe that she would push it that far, though—she just liked the effects of Dark magic, and the power… But Severus knew more than she did, and he only wanted her safety… If he cared this much about her, she wanted to take better care of herself so he needn't suffer because she had been too full of pride…

"I promise," said Vesperra. Severus was visibly relieved at her words and the sincerity of them. He moved his hands from her shoulders to the sides of her face, and held them a bit less firmly as he closed his eyes momentarily and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She let herself smile a little, as this was much better than she had expected it to be. She couldn't even be disappointed that it didn't last longer, because it would be selfish to want that when he had been ready to forgive her even though she didn't deserve it.

When he leaned back against the couch again, happier than she would think just because she had promised, he thought a moment, then said softly, "Vesperra, may I ask what exactly Malfoy said to you that made you so angry?"

She exhaled slowly, and thought of how best to put it. "Actually, it had been going on since breakfast," she said, folding her hands on her lap. "Because it's Valentine's Day. So technically, it's Lockhart's fault, like everything always is. Malfoy and everyone else had been teasing me about anything they could think of that was valentine or love-related all day… And I don't want to repeat what he said when I lost it, but it involved you, me, and snogging." Vesperra's face contorted into disgust and anger almost involuntarily, just to make sure he realized how much she loathed those particular taunts.

Severus's eyes flicked to her hands, which were folded on her lap rather than holding his, and now it seemed to be for a reason. She hadn't been looking at him when she explained, probably so she'd have an easier time doing so without being embarrassed. He hated that she had to endure that from them. Children could be so cruel. And too often they couldn't keep their minds out of the gutter.

But now that she was finished, she turned her head towards him. "Did you do anything about Lockhart?"

"How could I have?" he muttered angrily. "He's immune to insults and Dumbledore actually gave him _permission_ to do that… Today was hell."

"Did anyone ask you for a Love Potion?" Vesperra had actually thought about asking him just to see his reaction, but that would have been stupid to do in this situation.

"No, but if I had had the Weasley twins in a lesson today, I think they would have. They're lucky, because they would have next been found dead on the dungeon floor."

She smirked, and then a thought came to her, which she contemplated for a minute before continuing the conversation. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"What will my detention be?"

Severus cocked his head at her questioningly. "Detention?"

"Well, I have to be punished somehow, don't I? I know teachers are allowed free reign over choosing punishments, but for all the rest of the staff knows, I _was_ trying to kill Malfoy. I doubt that he'll keep quiet about it, so they'll know soon enough. Even though it's within your power, they would be extremely suspicious if you let me off without even a night's detention. You're my friend, but you also have to be my teacher and give me the detention that you would give anyone else for doing something like this."

"And you're willing to serve detention that you know you don't deserve?" He was truly impressed by her maturity in this situation, and stared at her with a bit of awe.

"Yes, if it makes sure that you're not bombarded with questions from the other teachers and possibly the school governors. Besides, it might throw Malfoy off our trail."

"Our tr—?"

"Malfoy knows, Severus. He really does. You didn't see his face when you told me to come to your office—I _did_. And I could tell that he didn't believe for one second that you were actually going to punish me. If you don't punish me, that's proof enough for him. If you do, then he'll be confused. The harsher the better—just not Lockhart, please. And they can't be with you, either."

Smirking, he said, "Definitely not Lockhart. I'll decide on something soon, and it'll probably be a week of nightly detentions." He hated to actually give her detention, but it was necessary, _and_ she wanted to do it. "And as for Malfoy and the others saying those types of things… I know a different spell that has the same effect, only less deadly. Actually, I created this one as well—I had the same desire to force people to shut up when I was a child. It's actually very easy, even for those that aren't very skilled in magic. Focus is hardly required and the only wand movement is to point. The incantation is _Langlock_."

This was much better to know, because Vesperra had been slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be able to force Malfoy or anyone to shut up anymore after she promised not to use that spell. "What exactly does it do?" she asked.

"It glues the target's tongue to the top of their mouth, so they can't speak—try it."

She could only assume she meant on him, so she pointed her wand, at him and said, "_Langlock_."

Suddenly, his tongue was forced upward and stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it was a sensation that he hadn't felt himself in a long time. He waved his own wand at his face to undo the spell nonverbally so he could speak again. "It can be stopped by _Finite Incantatem_, but otherwise it has to wear off."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, but it feels awkward."

There was a short silence, and then Vesperra thought of something. She was hesitant to say so at first, but decided she had nothing to lose. "Severus, do you want to know the spell that I created? I mean, it could be useful in the future…"

He agreed with her, because if used in defense, that could definitely prove extremely useful. So she told him the incantation, wand movement, and required mindset, though he would have guessed the last part on his own. They then realized that they had almost entirely missed dinner, and that it was pointless to go now. Severus offered to go get her something from the kitchens if she was hungry, but she declined and gave his hand a quick squeeze before heading to her dorm, since Malfoy would surely assume the worst if she was in his office for too long.

When she closed the door, Severus was left to think. Today had been quite the day… Though he was glad that he'd been able to finally express to Vesperra how afraid he was for her, he'd have liked the circumstances to have been a little different. And now he actually had to give her a real punishment. _Thanks a lot, Lockhart._

* * *

**This settles it- Obliviate solves everything. And Lockhart ruins everything. Valentine's Day really was awful... But I think that'll be the only time Valentine's Day has any significance in their lives.**

**By the way, I had been keeping the development process of Vesperra's spell vague so that we would find out when Severus did... in case you were wondering. And now that they're calming down a bit, what do you suppose they'll do with their time?**

**Please review! Theories, in-depth analysis, or just quick thoughts are welcome!**


	25. Book 2: Chapter 11

**There's some important stuff going down in this chapter, so _pay attention_. I hope you read that in Snape's voice. And I must warn you, if you're the kind of person that gets sqeemish over dissecting animals, you may be a bit grossed out at one point. Oh, and thanks for all the reviews, guys! I'm up to 69! *giggles* Sorry, I couldn't resist.**

* * *

After having promised Severus that she would try to stray off the path he feared she would be going down, Vesperra slowly began to feel even worse than she had before. He had told her all of that just because of the curse that she created, but there was still so much more that he didn't know…

That hadn't been the first time that she had cursed Malfoy. Though he knew she must have learned a lot of curses from the book she got from the Restricted Section—he had told her that not too long ago—, he had no idea of the exact reason why she'd learnt them. He had no idea that she had been the one to break multiple bones in Malfoy's body with a single curse and just leave him there.

And then there were the Cards. Vesperra was sure that he would be glad Lockhart had been cursed by one, but they were very Dark objects… as well as _Known Poisons and Their Antidotes_. How could she possibly keep them when she had promised to try to avoid things like them? But they hadn't been cheap… it would be a waste to get rid of them. No, she couldn't get rid of the book… It had antidotes in it, so it would be useful if she or Severus were ever poisoned.

But the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards… Mr. Borgin had said that until all the Cards had been dealt, they would be useable only to her. Apparently, that made it sort of a destiny that she had to fulfill… If she got rid of the Cards, then no one would ever be able to use them. Vesperra respected powerful magic whether evil or good, and couldn't let that happen. Someone, probably ancient Chinese wizards, had created these cards, and for her to just cancel out their power… That would be putting their work to waste.

She supposed a noble person with selfless intentions would purchase the Cards simply so they could keep them locked away until they died so they would lose their power, but she was neither noble nor selfless. Besides, what if the powers didn't work like that? What if the magical ownership would be passed on to their child or any living relatives? What if the Cards wouldn't recognize an owner unless that person bought or traded them with the intent to _use_ them? And what if trying to get rid of them was dangerous and would ultimately curse _you_?

There were still a lot of people she'd really like to use the Cards on… Malfoy—well, most of the other Slytherins—, Potter, Thomas and Finnigan… her parents. But Malfoy would likely have already seen them in Borgin and Burkes and know what they do, and she had already gone to the trouble to make sure he had no idea or suspicion of her having gone in there… And she couldn't see how she'd go about getting Potter to take a card, nor her parents—Her father would automatically assume it was magic, so he wouldn't touch it, and she figured her mum might recognize it as a Dark object.

She _had_ promised him, but Vesperra couldn't help but feel she'd be doing a good thing by making sure the Cards would all be used eventually. It would be justification, giving people what they deserve and, at some point, allowing someone else to do the same. But she felt a painful stab of guilt as she thought this, because she couldn't deny that it was indeed Dark Magic. She just _couldn't_ keep the cards after everything Severus had told her.

Vesperra had been thinking about this the night that the conversation in question had happened. Dinner was over, and mostly everyone else was in the Common Room or Library, but she was lying on her four-poster bed in her dorm, staring at the ceiling and contemplating her promise. Almost absentmindedly, she pulled the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards out of her robe pocket, and began shuffling them. In all the time that she had owned them, she had never looked through them… At first, it was because she had been afraid that the curses they held might affect her if she took a look at them herself. She hadn't wanted to take the risk. But now that she knew that the Cards would recognize her as their owner, she saw no reason not to and was very curious.

The backs of the cards were nothing special except in that they were blood-stained, but the faces were each rimmed in black—it was a deep black, blacker than death. The effect of holding them was slightly chilling, but also interesting. On each card there was a gruesome picture of a certain curse—it made her wonder what had gone through Lockhart's mind when he saw his card. The twenty-four left included Drowning, Poison, Illness, Falling, Torture, Bitten, Wounded, Crushed, and Debt. It seemed that the majority of them potentially caused death, but 'Bitten' had shown a detailed, moving illustration of a werewolf transforming. Lycanthropy could be a curse worse than death, she figured. And then, of course, there had been Debt, which seemed to merely mean the victim would struggle financially.

Possibly the most peculiar card in the deck was the one called 'Heartbroken.' Once Vesperra saw it, she sat up straight, set the rest of the Cards on her lap, and held the single card close to her face. The picture on it was that of a man staring at the shadow of a woman, crying heavily and clutching his heart. She frowned at it, thinking about how horrible of a curse it was. Though she was yet to experience it, she felt a strange ache, as if she were familiar with the feeling.

With that, she returned the card to the deck and lied down once more, trying to decide on what to do with the Cards. If she continued to carry and attempt to use them, she would honestly not know how to live with herself. There were already so many things she was keeping from Severus, and she hated herself for it. She couldn't betray his trust, nor could she fail to at least _try _to protect anything Severus cared about—in this case, it was her, and her future. And if you were looking deeper, her soul.

Pushing away all arguing thoughts of why it was stupid not to use the cards, she sat up again in a huff and walked to the end of her bed. Vesperra then unlocked her school trunk and found the box for the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards. The box made a creaking noise louder than usual as she opened it. Slowly, she made to set the deck inside the box, but it became harder and harder to force herself to do as it grew closer to the box. She stopped when they were an inch from the velvet bottom of the interior, and simply stared at them. The box seemed to be closing on its own, and suddenly Vesperra realized that it actually was. All of this must have been the magic of the Cards, as if they knew that they were about to be returned to their container and would never be let free again.

Vesperra had a sudden surge of control and will power over the powers of the Cards, and shoved the deck into the box and shut it at the same time, hurrying to close the clasp on it. She feared for a moment that since they could recognize their owner, they could also hate and attack their owner, but the box merely shook a bit in her hands before becoming still. Sighing sharply in relief, she put the box back in her trunk and locked that as well, then returned to her bed, staring at the ceiling once again.

For now, she couldn't get rid of it, for she didn't know what would happen. Asking Mr. Borgin about it was out of the question, because then he'd wonder why she suddenly didn't want them anymore, and she wanted to avoid that situation. And then she was a bit annoyed, because Mr. Borgin hadn't told her that any of what just happened could happen. _Ugh, whatever… there's nothing I can do about it._

But even if she couldn't be rid of it entirely, she figured that she could avoid temptation if she no longer carried them with her. Avoiding temptation was all she needed to do, as it was exactly what she had promised Severus she'd do. Neither of them could stop her from being tempted, just as she couldn't stop being cynical, hateful, or cruel; and she couldn't necessarily be blamed for giving in to it, because sometimes it couldn't be helped. And sometimes she wanted to. But if she knew where she'd be tempted, and avoided that specifically, she really _was_ trying. That was the least she could do for him… and that was really the only reason she tried. For him.

She felt better, but she wished it could be easier.

* * *

"I missed you at dinner last night, Severus."

Dumbledore had caught up with him on his way to the staffroom before breakfast the morning after the incident, and found him in a rather gruff mood, as usual. The old man gave him a wondering look, and a hint of a smile twitched beneath his beard.

"So you haven't yet heard what's happened?" Severus replied curtly. He saw no point in explaining it if Dumbledore already knew, and there was a good chance that he did. Actually, the Headmaster didn't necessarily have to hear it from anyone. He might just know, just like he knew every damn thing that happened in the school.

"Actually, I have," said Dumbledore. "I believe this is the second time that Miss D'Monicas would have killed Mr. Malfoy if it had not been for your intervention."

"She wasn't trying to kill him," he said automatically.

"Are you sure?"

Severus flicked an angry side-glance at Dumbledore. "She told me so, and I trust her. She merely wanted to silence him."

"And to use such drastic measures, Severus?" Dumbledore stared at him almost sadly, and Severus regarded him by not doing so at all.

"You didn't hear what Malfoy had said to her. And Vesperra has never been one to use harmless measures."

"So you believe she was justified?"

"I do," Severus growled, still looking ahead and not facing Dumbledore. "But if it's punishment you're thinking about, I _am_ going to give her detention. _She_ suggested it, in fact."

Dumbledore smiled. "How mature of her. But you're not agreeing to give her detention because she deserves it; you're doing it to protect her and your secret." It wasn't a question—it was a statement… so Severus didn't nod in confirmation that he was correct.

"She _doesn't_ deserve it," said Severus quietly.

"Of course she doesn't," Dumbledore said airily. "Now, do you have anything in particular in mind for her yet?"

"Only that she won't be spending any nights with Lockhart… I would only wish that fate upon my worst enemy."

Chuckling, Dumbledore said, "Speaking of which, I apologize for yesterday. I believe Lockhart got a bit… carried away."

"That's an understatement."

* * *

Vesperra was reluctant to leave her bed, as she was sure of what would happen when she went up for breakfast. Perhaps she should just skip breakfast… No, that would be useless because then it would happen at lunch instead. And she couldn't just skip every meal and starve—but she could always go down to the kitchens. No, she couldn't do that, either… Everyone would know why she was absent, and then they'd corner her in the corridors or after class instead. Vesperra wouldn't exactly consider herself brave, but she was no coward, either.

So she got dressed and left to the Great Hall as usual. She was surprised not to see people huddle together and whisper as she passed, since gossip normally spread like a wildfire in Hogwarts. Surely the majority of the school would know by now… Perhaps Malfoy was in the Hospital Wing too long the night before to tell anyone what she had done to him, and the other students that witnessed it weren't the gossiping type. But there were other ways of spreading rumors and, most of the time, no one was exactly sure how it happened.

It was relatively peaceful until more Slytherins arrived, and immediately starting giving her a death glare to match her own. However, no one actually said anything until Malfoy arrived.

"Does it still hurt, Draco?" simpered Pansy.

Malfoy was breathing gutturally and with his chest heaving dramatically as if his neck were in a vice and it was still difficult to breathe. Vesperra knew he was faking, and scowled in disgust. "It's not so much the pain as it is the discomfort of not being able to breathe properly, and your throat aching…"

Part of her wanted to say, "Come off it, you bloody prat, you're fine," but the rest of her told her not to say anything until it was necessary. It was better to act as though she were in her own plane of existence. So when Malfoy spoke directly to her, she didn't acknowledge that she heard him. But he knew she did, so she didn't have to.

"It's useless to ask you what you have to do, Grease-perra," spat Malfoy, "'cause we all _know_ Snape didn't give you detention—no, not you, never for his precious little—"

"He _did_," Vesperra said after swallowing a bit of toast without looking up from her plate, cutting into his words like glass and making sure to sound like she resented the fact that she had been punished.

He snorted. "Oh, of _course_ he did…" Then, just as he had done last night, he composed himself so he could make his voice deep and nasal enough to imitate Severus's. "'You _will_ be punished for your actions, Miss D'Monicas… so you can't snog me for an entire week'…" Over the ensuing laughter, he said in his usual, drawling voice, "On second thought, I like that idea—you'll slowly go mad. Well, madder than you already are…"

Her anger was rising, but she fought to keep it down. "He hasn't decided yet," she said coolly. "But he assured me what I did was just as serious as what Potter and Weasley did at the beginning of the year, so my detention won't be easier than either of theirs." Vesperra was glad to note that the table went silent, though she wasn't looking up and could therefore not see their expressions.

She guessed they must have been ones of disbelief after Daphne said, "You're lying—if he didn't punish you when you nearly killed Draco last year, then why would he punish you now?" There were murmurs of assent across the table, and then silence again as they waited for her reply. It didn't come for a minute, since Vesperra wanted to appear as though she were being pensive about it. Plus, it made for a dramatic pause.

"I have no idea," she finally said. "I don't know the inner workings of Professor Snape's mind."

She then heard a cough of disbelief, and glanced up for the teeniest portion of a second to see who it was—Malfoy, as expected. Crabbe, Goyle, and some others were looking at him curiously.

"Really? You don't?" he said.

"I don't think anyone does." At that point, she decided to slowly raise her head to get a full view of Malfoy's face, which was hilariously furious due to her lack of a reaction. He glared at her, stabbing his ham with his fork rather violently.

"I won't believe it until I see it."

"Right," said Vesperra in an apathetic tone, "because I actually give a damn whether or not you believe that I have detention."

That sealed the deal. She cared very much whether they all believed her—otherwise she wouldn't have been working too hard to be convincing—but reverse psychology almost never failed when used correctly.

* * *

Severus couldn't help but smirk at how well Vesperra had handled them. It was almost chilling how she spoke with careful precision… The only thing keeping the rest of them from believing her was that he had a record for allowing her to get away with things. But he grew angry at the snogging comment, and wished that he had been over there to hear it in person. What would Malfoy do if he, after imitating Severus's voice, heard him clear his throat and turned around to see him standing there?

After breakfast, he spoke to the other teachers about anything they might need done that would be a detention fit for what Vesperra had done. He made sure not to let Lockhart overhear, because the last thing he needed was suggestions for punishments from _him_, or for Lockhart to try and talk to Vesperra about it. No one required any especially hard work done at the moment, but they promised to let him know when they did.

* * *

It quickly became apparent why hardly anyone seemed to know what had happened. Vesperra guessed that Malfoy made sure to keep the talk within Slytherin House, because if everyone knew, they were likely to like her more, since no one outside of Slytherin had any sympathy for Malfoy. To have the school suddenly side with her would be awful for him. She honestly didn't mind, because she'd prefer no one talk about it.

All day, she thought about how best Malfoy and the rest of them should find out. It felt strange to be planning her own detention, especially since she was welcoming the prospect of it being harsh. It was like planning her own death, except less serious. But it was in the same sense. She discussed it with Severus that night.

* * *

_**You were eavesdropping on the Slytherin table this morning, weren't you?**_

_I wanted to know what they were saying to you, I'm sorry._

_**Don't be sorry. It makes things a lot easier, because now I don't have to relay what happened. So have you come up with anything for me to do yet?**_

_Not yet. It may be a week or two before I do._

_**When you do, it would be convenient if you told me when and where I had detention in front of everyone else.**_

_So you want me to embarrass you?_

_**If it makes them stop thinking that you prefer me, then yes. Besides, it won't necessarily embarrass me. They'll just tease me about me 'not being your favorite anymore' or something like that.**_

_And you don't think Malfoy won't still be suspicious? He's not an idiot._

_**He's not a genius, either. He doesn't think you would ever punish me, let alone harshly. So when you prove him wrong, he won't be able to piece that together with what he's already possibly seen and heard, and will be forced to rethink his theories. And I just had an idea—you should write a note telling me the time and place of my detention, and send it with Malfoy. That'll be hilarious.**_

_You really get inside his mind, don't you? Most people wouldn't be able to come up with that kind of reasoning… Then again, you're not most people. And as for that plan, I love it._

_**You have to understand your enemy in order to thwart them… The only problem is that I still don't know what exactly he plans to do if he ever learns the details of our relationship.**_

_Let's hope he never does get that far. _

_**We can always slow him down with Memory Charms, like I've had to do at least twice so far. **_

_Too many Memory Charms could permanently ruin his mind._

_**Who cares?**_

_Exactly. _

_**Well, hopefully it won't be necessary to use too many Memory Charms. Maybe at some point, he'll just butt out of our lives. Well, mine.**_

_My life is pretty much yours at this point._

* * *

A week later, Severus had made the arrangements and Vesperra's detention was planned. He made sure to make it harsh, but not too harsh. She had asked for it and he knew it was necessary, but she was a Slytherin and it would be out of character for him not to be much less cruel to them than anyone else that had done the same thing. Either way, he really did hate to punish her. And when he wrote the note that would be delivered to her, it felt like someone else was writing it.

Folding it and sealing it magically, he stood up from his desk and tucked it into his breast pocket. He was going to stick by Vesperra's plan and make sure Malfoy was the one to deliver it to her—mainly because he wanted to see the boy's reaction rather than hear about it, as he would surely know what he was delivering without having to ask. Severus waited for a chance all day, and knew he had it when, at dinner, Vesperra left prematurely.

Rather than passing through the staffroom after dinner, Severus walked down the center of the Great Hall and went into the Entrance Hall, where he saw Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him heading towards the stairs. He glided after them, calling out once near them, "Mr. Malfoy!"

The Slytherin trio stopped and turned around, waiting until Severus caught up and stood directly in front of them. Malfoy was evidently wondering what he wanted from him, and possibly afraid that he was going to be punished for some of the things he'd said to Vesperra in the past few days (which, for the record, Severus felt he deserved completely). One little peek into his mind with Legilimency would eliminate the need for wondering… But that would waste time. Besides, he seemed like the type that might be able to sense another's presence in his mind. After all, his father and Aunt Bellatrix were both relatively skilled Occlumens. Those sorts of things were usually inherited.

"Yes, sir?" said Malfoy.

Severus reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a folded piece of parchment, and handed it to him. "Deliver this to Miss D'Monicas, would you?"

Malfoy didn't seem to think anything of it when he first grabbed the note, but then he stared at it for a moment and something clicked. With barely controlled disbelief, he looked from the parchment in his hand to Severus, who was staring down at him over his hooked nose.

"Of course, Professor," he said. His grey eyes glinted strangely as he tapped Goyle with the back of his hand and steered his bodyguards away, saying in a much more eager tone than he should have, "Come on, let's go find her…"

As Severus turned and stalked away to the dungeons, he realized what that glint had meant—Malfoy intended to read the note before delivering it. Well, he could have figured that much out anyway. But he had placed a charm on it so only Vesperra could open it. He knew they'd end up knowing the contents of it anyway, and thought it would be best if they didn't hear it until Vesperra did, so she would have the luxury of seeing their initial reaction as well.

* * *

The library was peacefully quiet, hushed voices and the sound of books sliding in and out of their shelves being the only noise. Vesperra sat alone at an isolated table in the back, hunched over her parchment and writing speedily and steadily, pausing every few minutes to think about her choice of words or to refer to one of the few books she had lying open on the table.

When she looked upward a bit so she could pull _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ toward her, she noticed something haughty and blonde walking towards her. In his hand was a piece of parchment, and at that, she set down her quill and sat upright, glaring at Malfoy and company. As they stopped at the edge of her table and she raised one eyebrow, Malfoy tossed the piece of parchment onto the table and it slid directly to her.

"Professor Snape told me to give that to you," said Malfoy. He didn't leave afterward, but leaned onto the table instead.

Vesperra frowned, feigning a look of dread, and then eyed Malfoy warily as she unfolded the parchment. She knew why they weren't leaving, so she ignored them and read it.

_Your detention will take place at noon on Saturday at the Gamekeeper's hut. You will assist Hagrid with his daily work, and are not to use magic._

_~Professor S. Snape_

Scowling at the note, she made to fold it back up but it was quickly snatched out of her hands. Having expected it, she merely let her hand fall to the table and didn't snatch back for it or argue. Vesperra watched Malfoy's eyes dart across the parchment, narrow, and read it again, as if he couldn't believe it. At first, it seemed like he didn't want to believe that she had actually gotten detention, since that would have proved him wrong, but then his face held a flicker of realization that he hated her and wanted her to get punished.

He laughed coldly and showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, who, Vesperra was surprised to find out, apparently _could_ read. They chuckled thickly before crumpling up the note and throwing it at her. It bounced off her head and landed in one of the books.

"I wouldn't call it _enough_, but if that's the best he can do, I'm fine with it," Malfoy said, grinning. "But it's already punishment that he's making you go _outside_, let alone work with that oaf of a servant… Consider it career training, Grease-perra!" With that, he turned and left, probably to go tell everyone else about her detention. That was exactly what she was hoping for.

Reaching out, she grabbed the wad of parchment and smoothed it out. Vesperra looked from the note to the backs of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and smirked. Then she folded the note back up properly and tucked it into her breast pocket, though she wasn't sure why.

She had guessed right—everyone had come up with new taunts, this time about how 'Snape didn't like her anymore.' Though she had been prepared for it, it really struck her how there would never be any way out of it. They made fun of her if she didn't have friends, and they made fun of her if she did have friends. What would it take for all of them just to leave her alone? Well, she didn't expect it would happen anytime soon, since it was the reason any of this was happening in the first place. In a sense, she was almost glad, because she never would have ended up friends with Severus if it weren't for them… But that didn't make it okay. Vesperra wondered if she would have to wait until she graduated from Hogwarts to have any privacy. Probably so.

So on Saturday, she ate a quick lunch so she could leave before noon. She passed through the Entrance Hall and went through the large oak doors, and walked down the grassy slopes to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The ground was wet and the mud sloshed over her shoes, and she tried to walk calmly so it didn't splash. Vesperra walked along the edge of the Forest until she came to a small, wooden cabin. Outside were a couple barrels and crates, and behind it she could see a large vegetable patch.

She went up the stone steps and was about to knock on the door when she was almost startled out of her wits.

"Over here!" bellowed a voice from behind her. She turned around and saw the Gamekeeper heading towards her, waving a thick, meaty hand the size of a dustbin lid. He was no less than three times as tall as she was and probably six times as wide—at least—and had dark, unruly hair as well as a beard. Despite his size, he had a fairly warm and gregarious air about him. As he got closer, Vesperra had to gradually tilt her head back so she could still see his face.

"Yer here for detention, righ'?" said Hagrid as he walked up the steps, pulling a ring of keys out of his coat and selecting one to stick into his door. She nodded. "Professor Snape told me abou' yeh… Looks like yeh got here 'fore I did mehself."

Vesperra stepped aside so Hagrid could open the door, and he let her step in before him. It was only one room, and tall, as she'd have guessed, to accommodate Hagrid's height. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, high enough that only Hagrid would reach them. There wasn't much empty space on the floor, however. A massive bed took up one corner, and there was a small sort of kitchen along one edge, with a table stacked with vegetables and slabs of meat and a bucket full of water. Right across from the doorway was a large fireplace, and in front of that was a small sitting area of a couple chairs and stools. As she walked further in, she accidentally stepped on something that immediately pulled out from under her shoe and whimpered. She turned around and saw a very large boarhound dog curled up on a blanket in one corner.

"Oh—tha's Fang. Don' mind him," Hagrid told her as he closed the door behind him. "Yeh know, abou' what yeh did ter Malfoy… Ter be honest, I never liked him… Sneakin' ou' at night, callin' Hermione tha' foul name… I reckon he must o' done summat ter yeh, but tha's no reason ter try an' choke him. Now, I have a few things ter take care o', so yeh can clean up in here 'til I come back."

Hagrid made for the back door, but before he left he smiled and waved sharply. Vesperra, who had been standing still with her usual scowl the whole time, hesitantly made a small wave as he shut the door. She was a bit confused that Hagrid didn't seem at all put off by her demeanor, and even sympathized with her. Apparently, he didn't want to give her too harsh of a punishment… but that could have just been because he was a generally nice guy. What surprised her a bit more was that he mentioned the Granger girl by her first name, which could only mean that he knew her personally. He must have known Potter personally as well.

This hit a nerve, and she was suddenly very angry. _So Potter can be good friends with Hagrid and no one cares,_ she thought as she moved through the hut, picking up scraps of trash so she could throw it in the rubbish bin, _but I can't be friends with Severus without everyone harassing me about it? _Perhaps it was because Hagrid was very friendly, but Severus wasn't the sort of person that was sociable with anyone, let alone able or willing to make friends. For him to pick one person and actually become close to them was unheard of, and she couldn't really blame people for wondering what it was about her that make Severus like her. But they would never know, because it hadn't been like that. He didn't _pick_ her… they just sort of fell together. Or rather, pushed together like pieces of a puzzle by the hands of fate. _No, don't read too deep into it… It just happened._

When she figured she had taken care of all of the trash, she found a broom and began sweeping up all the dirt and straw on the floor. It was difficult to get around everything, and she thought that it was pretty stupid for Hagrid to leave her alone where she could use magic to clean and he'd be none the wiser. But it didn't matter, because she hadn't bothered to learn any cleaning spells yet anyway.

In the middle of sweeping, she heard a knock at the door and stopped. Vesperra hoped to God it wasn't Potter and his friends coming to visit Hagrid, but either way, she still had to answer and tell whoever it was that Hagrid wasn't there at the moment. Carrying the broom with her, she walked to the door and opened it, only to find Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, on the other side.

"Having fun, Grease-perra?" said Malfoy, his eyes moving to the broom in her hand. "I bet you are… You feel right at home, don't you?" He looked past her and into the hut, frowning in disgust at the interior. "Well, your surroundings really suit you—"

Vesperra promptly slammed the door in his face and resumed sweeping, now a bit more violently. After most of the dirt and straw was in a pile, she opened the back door and swept it outside. To be honest, she had expected a more difficult detention. She was used to cleaning, as she had always had to clean her entire house on her own. With her father too lazy to do anything and getting angry at her mother if she cleaned with magic, her parents had reached a compromise—Vesperra did it. For a minute, she wondered if Severus had done this on purpose, and smiled to herself.

By the time Hagrid returned, Vesperra had straightened the furniture, scrubbed the tables, and cleared the floor so it was much easier to walk around.

"Yeh did a nice job," Hagrid said as opened the back door and stood in the threshold, looking around and clearly impressed. "There's a couple other things I'd like yeh to do, now follow me…" He walked back out, and led her to a clearing near his garden, which held a hen coop. "Summat's bin killin' the roosters, and the charm I put on the hen coop didn' work. So I wan' ter cut 'em open, an' see if we can find out what killed 'em."

He then looked back to her with a strange expression, as if seeing whether she was repulsed by the idea. Vesperra's expressionless face didn't indicate that she was, so he went ahead. The hens in the coop clucked merrily, but there was no sign of any roosters. Apparently, there were none still alive. They went to the shed, where Hagrid had laid out a couple dead roosters on a table.

"I thought it mighta been foxes or Blood-Suckin' Bug-bears, but I couldn' find no teeth marks," said Hagrid. "The las' one got killed abou' three weeks ago, but I never got 'round ter checkin' 'em. I hear you know a bit abou' this kind o' stuff?  
Nodding, Vesperra wondered who he had heard it from. She didn't think Severus would talk about her in the staffroom… Although, he may have let slip that she knew a lot about Dark Magic when he was asking around to see who she could serve detention with.

"Alrigh' then," he said, handing her a small knife. "Get to cuttin'." While he went to cut his, Vesperra foresaw problems in trying to do it the Muggle way.

"Er—Hagrid," Vesperra said, turning to him, "I know I'm in detention and I'm not supposed to use magic, but a Severing Charm would make a much cleaner cut and we wouldn't risk cutting up evidence of how they were killed."

He stood with an expression that made it so obvious that Vesperra could practically hear the gears working in his head. Then he straightened himself up, trying to look dignified, and said, "Oh—yer right, it would… And this _is_ importan', so I won' tell Professor Snape."

Lips twitching in an attempt to smirk, Vesperra stopped herself and pulled out her wand. She knew for a fact that Severus wouldn't care. And she also knew that Hagrid had had his wand snapped when he was expelled after being accused of opening the Chamber of Secrets, so she didn't question why he didn't do it himself. Holding up the rooster and jerking her wand downwards, she muttered "_Diffindo_." There was a cut straight down the middle, and she did the same with the tissue connecting the skin to the muscle, as well as the other rooster.

They pulled the skin back of their respective roosters as well as the muscle, and examined the organs, trying to find something wrong with them. When Vesperra was able to cut through the sternum, she noticed something peculiar… The lungs were bluish and seemed shrunken. She moved her eyes upwards along the rooster and found that its throat and trachea were crushed.

"Hagrid, I think these roosters were strangled—look," said Vesperra. Hagrid hadn't even been close to getting an answer since her fingers and mind worked much faster than his. Hunching over, he took a look at hers. "No animal would or could have done that."

"Why would anyone want ter strangle a rooster?"

"I don't know, but it would make sense why your charm on the hen coop didn't work—whoever strangled the roosters was able to counter the charm."

"Yeah, I guess that'd make sense… but people don' just kill roosters for nothin'. But—er, since tha's all figured ou', you can clean ou' the hen coop an' then yer detention'll be done and yer free ter go."

While scraping chicken feces off the ground and laying down more straw, Vesperra searched her mind for any reason someone would want to kill a rooster, but nowhere in her memory could she find anything. She wasn't sure why, but the whole situation was suddenly important to her. Well, it _was_ odd, so how could she not be curious?

But it was more than curiosity—it was urgency. There was something familiar about the situation as well… And then she remembered. The year before, Severus had found out from Hagrid that unicorns were being killed, and they automatically linked it to Quirrell. This time, roosters were being killed… but they weren't difficult to kill. It didn't take any sort of magic to strangle a rooster… But she knew a person must have done it, and she had a strange feeling that it had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets. Could Voldemort be the one killing the roosters? It seemed unlikely that the most powerful Dark wizard of all time would take to killing roosters, but just because someone was powerful didn't mean they couldn't do simple things anymore…

Vesperra and Severus discussed it that night and for days after, but neither of them could come up with anything. Severus wasn't so sure the deaths of the roosters had anything to do with the Chamber, since there was hardly any evidence that the two events were related. But Vesperra felt so sure… and besides, there _were_ no coincidences.

On one hand, this was just another thing to stress over… But on the other, they had a clue now. A clue that might be wrong, and that might not even matter if the Chamber wasn't open anymore… Still, it was something to go on. Even if it didn't have anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets, it was rather strange that someone would strangle all of the school roosters and just leave them in the coop. Whoever did it had no intention to use the rooster… just kill it.

Over the next couple weeks before the end of term, Vesperra researched it and exhausted all of her possible resources. Rooster feathers had no magical properties and would therefore not work for any potion, and murdering a rooster wasn't involved in any ancient rituals she could find. She wanted to refuse to give up, but there was literally nothing about roosters if you didn't count magical cookbooks. With reluctance, she stopped perusing the library, for it held no answers. But she didn't give up the theory that they were connected.

The other Slytherins got tired of talking about her detention with Hagrid after about a week, and after that they all seemed jaded on the topic and no longer seemed to think Severus had a thing for her. But they still believed that she was in love with him and was extremely distraught by the fact that he didn't like her enough. Of course, they _could_ be hiding their true suspicions, and she wouldn't be surprised to hear that they didn't really believe that Severus didn't favor her. Well, at least not Malfoy or Zabini, but most of the others weren't exactly smart. It was too bad she couldn't use Legilimency…

And it was funny that they would have thought it a harsh punishment, since the detention had actually been very useful.

Finally, Vesperra was given something else to occupy her time, so she wouldn't have to worry so much about the Chamber of Secrets or the strangled roosters. Easter holidays were just about to start, and that meant exams were ten weeks away. And during the last lesson of the last day of term, teachers handed out lists of the extra subjects that they had to choose from for next year. Unfortunately, that class happened to be Defense Against the Dark Arts for Vesperra.

"Here you are, class," Lockhart was saying happily as he passed out sheets of parchment. "Choose wisely! Not all of us are as sure of our future as I was, so you never know what you might want to go into! I'd suggest you take a leaf out of my book and take Muggle Studies and Divination—some might say those are the soft options, but when you live solely to bring peace among all peoples and ensure that the world has a good future—the only way to live, I would say—, they're the best things you can learn now!"

As if Vesperra was going to take _his _advice on education… This was an important matter to think about. Once she chose her subjects, she couldn't go back. She wasn't normally indecisive, but she knew she'd have to think about it a while. One of the factors she thought about was whether or not Malfoy was taking it, but she definitely wasn't planning on asking him, and she wasn't going to take the most boring classes just to ensure that she'd see less of him.

In between studying and contemplating the subjects she would take next year, Vesperra made sure to visit Severus when she could. Being the paranoid and cynical person that she was, she didn't assume that Malfoy would no longer follow her, so she was still careful.

* * *

Though many would say that he would miss being cruel to students and making sardonic replies for two weeks, Severus was glad for the break between terms. He needed another break from Granger, as she had returned at the beginning of February and he had been spoiled with her absence. As far as he knew, Potter hadn't been up to anything particularly mischievous as of late, so he wouldn't have to deal with him over the Easter Holidays either. And as much as he enjoyed bullying the less competent students and even the competent ones as long as they weren't Slytherins, he was glad to be free of his duties if only for a couple weeks. It had been about four months now since any attacks, and there was no evidence that they would start again any time soon, so all he needed to do during the break was be on the lookout, which he'd already been doing. He never let his guard down.

But what he was really glad about was being able to have Vesperra to himself every other day. It was the beginning of April now, so it was getting warmer and the days longer, and most of the students spent their time outside, or at least out of the dungeons.

A couple days into the break, Severus found himself in his office in the later hours of the morning, bent over his desk and tapping the wood with his fingers in a continuous rhythm. There was nothing to grade, his office and room were clean… He was about to get up and just brew something for the heck of it, like he often did to pass the time, but then he decided to stay sitting and reached inside his robes for his journal.

* * *

_Are you too busy studying right now to visit me? You really don't need to study so hard, considering that you're brilliant at everything._

_**I find it extremely ironic that the strictest teacher in the school is telling me not to study. You're a horrible influence, you know that?**_

_Come off it, I bet you've been studying since dawn. And I'd say I've been a rather good influence on you, actually. _

_**You'd win that bet. But I'm more than fine with taking a break and visiting you, because I didn't get to see you yesterday. I'll be there in a second.**_

* * *

No more than five seconds later, a knock on his door nearly startled him, and then confused him as he went to open it.

Vesperra had left her dorm the moment she read his first message, and timed it almost perfectly so she'd end up at his office just after he read her message. It was mainly to see the amused expression in his face when she got there.

"What took you so long?" said Severus, letting her in and closing the door.

"I said I'd be here in a second," she said with a smirk.

"That was five seconds." Severus finished casting the Imperturbable Charm over the door and looked at her seriously for a moment, but then his frown broke and he smirked as well. Vesperra had already gone to the couch and sat down, but turned herself sideways so she was lounging with her legs outstretched and crossed in front of her, taking up all the room.

Stopping in front of where he usually sat, he realized she was trying to gauge a reaction out of him. He glanced at her with a feigned casual expression to match hers, and sat down anyway. It was a bit uncomfortable sitting on her legs, but he didn't show it.

Vesperra half-expected that to happen, but didn't acknowledge it. But then it started to hurt, as her ankles were crossed over each other and his weight was crushing them together. So she tried to pull her legs out from under his, but to no avail. She was too stubborn to ask him to sit up, especially since she had been the one to instigate it. Her face was impassive as she looked into his, which was mockingly questioning as he leaned back, hands folded in his lap, and keeping her down with ease.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that he might be hurting her, and stood up at once—well, lifted himself enough that she could pull her legs out easily. When he sat back down, she didn't retract her legs and sit normally, but simply set them where they had just been, only on top of his lap.

"Merlin, Vesperra, if it hurt, why didn't you just tell me?—I would have stood up," he said, a bit annoyed. She shrugged, and he absentmindedly began rubbing her ankles, where he figured it would have hurt. After a short sigh, he said, "You're impossible."

Vesperra smirked, taking it as a compliment. "I know. And you're a bloody tease, sitting on my legs like that… So, what were you up to—just before you asked me to come?"

"Nothing," said Severus. "That's partly why I wanted you to come—I was bored."

"Bored? Severus Snape has the ability to feel the obscure emotion called boredom? I never would have guessed."

Severus arched an amused eyebrow at her, and exhaled sharply in a brief laugh. "Believe it or not, I do. Even I run out of things to do sometimes."

"Read a book," she suggested, not intending at all for him to take it seriously. "Brew a potion. I thought you normally did those things when there was nothing else to do."

"I could have, but I didn't feel like it. I prefer your company to a book."

For most people, that wouldn't be saying much. But with Severus, that was practically saying "I love you." He and anyone who knew him personally (which included all of three people—Vesperra, Dumbledore, and Lucius Malfoy) knew that he particularly enjoyed books and often regarded them with a higher respect than he did to most people. And anyone else with a brain (so Lockhart wasn't on that list) could guess that he spent a lot of time reading when he wasn't brewing, as well as the fact that he didn't often express emotions besides anger and annoyance. It was easier with Vesperra, but he still wasn't going to voice how he felt about her in a less casual way than "I prefer your company to a book."

A strange sense of giddiness filled Vesperra, not unlike what she had felt months ago when he kissed her on the cheek. She couldn't help but smile a little, though it was much deeper in her eyes than it was on her lips. "I prefer you to books as well," she said. Severus could hear a bit of a laugh in her voice, but she seemed as wholly sincere as he was. "You're a bit harder to read, though."

He smirked. "I should _hope_ so… But there's no fun in reading unless you have to interpret what you read… And it's usually better if people struggle trying to read you. You don't seem to have that much trouble reading me, though."

"Sometimes I do… I don't know whether you're angry about something or if it even bothered you at all. But as far as that goes, I know you well enough to know whether something I do will make you angry or annoyed. And sometimes I do it anyway." Smirking mischievously, she stretched her back, which subsequently pushed her further down the couch.

Vesperra was the only person that could make him angry and get away with it… Not only because she was his friend, but because she often had a reason. If she hadn't meant to anger him, it was usually that she was angry at him for something he'd done, and therefore he deserved it. If it was on purpose, that was simply the way friends made each other angry for fun. He said things to purposely make her mad sometimes, mostly because she had a Lily-esque ferocity about her that he craved to see. But that was it—he only _said_ things, but never did anything, no matter how harmless it might have seemed to do. She would always know that he was only teasing, and even if she didn't. he could tell her he was. But if he did something, he couldn't take it back. He couldn't take back that it might have hurt her physically or emotionally, and he couldn't take back what it might have meant to her. Words could be hurtful as well, but he never said anything potentially hurtful.

And as the conversation had turned to reading each other, he once again thought of how she would likely be a skilled Occlumens and Legilimens if he or anyone else ever taught her. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she loved the idea of being able to penetrate others' minds… That would give her ultimate power, and power was one thing he knew she craved, just as he had at her age. Every memory and thought that she'd see would be a dangerous weapon in her hands… _She'd definitely choose those as her subjects for next year if she could. _

That reminded him of something, and he thought it was about time to change the subject anyway, before things got awkwardly sentimental.

Coughing lightly to indicate that that topic was over with, he said, "Have you chosen your subjects for next year yet?"

The question didn't startle her for some reason, and her hand automatically went to her robe pocket where she happened to have the list with her. She unfolded it and ran her eyes down it, even though she had already memorized it.

"Well, I know I'm definitely not taking Muggle Studies, since I grew up with one for a father," said Vesperra.

She didn't necessarily know as much as she should about Muggles for having grown up in a Muggle household, since her mother had tried to keep her away from all that. She knew about electricity and engines and that sort of thing, since her father insisted on having a television in the house as well as Muggle kitchen appliances, but not necessarily how they worked. And she had to admit that the refrigerator was pretty useful for cooling food if you couldn't use a Cooling or Preserving Charm, but if it broke, then your food would be spoiled. Although, her parents usually made sure their food was separated, so the refrigerator in her house was mainly full of beer, and the attached freezer of frozen pizzas.

As for everything else, she didn't know much because the only time she ever left the house was when she snuck out through her window to get to her backyard and the few times her mother took her to Diagon Alley. The only way Vesperra ever learned of the rest of the Muggle world was when she heard something on the news that her father watched on his television while walking by it, or when he was ranting and raving about a new law passed or a famous singer dying or whatever it was—at which times he was usually drunk. And that was on a higher, political level. She didn't even know many basic things, local things… Her dad had long since decided that if he couldn't stop her or her mum from using magic and make them 'normal,' then they were no longer allowed to leave the house. He didn't want anyone knowing he had a wife or daughter.

Not that Vesperra wanted to know anything about Muggles, anyway. She had grown to hate them, the way they hated things they didn't understand, the way they couldn't accept the superiority of magic… Though her parents were equally cruel and unpleasant, she admitted that she hated her father more. It was the fact that he was a Muggle that broke the tie, and all the things he had done because of it. Muggleborns were different—they could actually use magic. In fact, she felt sorry for them, because they were raised by _two_ Muggles, and it wasn't unlikely that both of them wouldn't understand or like magic, and saw the one thing that made their kid special as a trait that made them a freak. So why on earth would she want to learn about Muggles when she already knew how awful they were?

"I didn't take it either," Severus said, bursting through her brooding thoughts like a needle into a balloon. She didn't hesitate in responding, but it took a minute for her anger to fully dissipate.

"Which two _did_ you take?" she asked.

"Actually, I took three—you can take as many as you want, and if you take more than three, you have to apply for a Time-Turner." Vesperra narrowed her eyes at this, and Severus realized she wouldn't know what a Time-Turner was, so he explained. "Time-Turners allow you to go back in time, to fix a dire mistake, undo something that's happened, or in this case, have more time to take classes. Don't ask me to explain it in more detail, because there's a lot of paradoxes involved and even the most intelligent of us have a difficult time figuring it out. They're rare and dangerous, so most people that apply won't end up with one. I can't see why anyone would want to take that many subjects anyway—"

"That sounds like the sort of thing Granger would do," said Vesperra.

"It does… Anyway, I took Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes." The memories came back so suddenly that it was almost painful. In their second year, when he and Lily had been choosing what classes they would take, they had first and foremost decided that they would take the same subjects, since they were in different Houses and didn't see each other in class except in Potions. Severus had wanted to take Arithmancy, and Lily had her heart set on Care of Magical Creatures—they both wanted Study of Ancient Runes. So they had compromised and both took all three, eager to have more time to spend with each other.

"Arithmancy is studying the magical properties of numbers, isn't it?"

"Yes—it's a very exact branch of magic, and I suppose that's why I wanted to take it in the first place. It's all memorizing charts and graphs, which I'm sure you would have no problem with… But it's awfully time-consuming and I admit I've found almost no use for it since I graduated. Hardly anyone besides Arithmancers ever deal with it, and I've only noted a few instances where you can apply it to Potions—the amount of a certain ingredient or how many times you stir—and even those can just be figured out simply by those skilled in potion-making."

It didn't sound like the sort of thing she'd want to do. Sure, it was exact and precise, like she preferred, but like Severus said, it didn't seem practical. Besides, more time working for class meant less time with Severus. So she ruled that out.

"And the others you took?" she said.

"Care of Magical Creatures speaks for itself… It's useful no matter what you plan on doing later in life, because knowing about creatures that we share a world with is important. As for Ancient Runes, there's a lot of translating involved, a lot of memorizing… but it's not like Arithmancy. You'd basically be learning a new language."

"A lot of ancient texts and spells are in the runic language," Vesperra mused. "It would be interesting to see what secrets they hold, since it's got to be old and powerful magic…"

Severus noticed the look in her eyes, as if they had misted over… And her voice had barely suppressed awe. Much of the old and powerful magic she was likely to find was Dark Magic, and he knew she knew that. He thought for a moment of reminding her of the promise she'd made, but decided not to—he trusted her to keep her promise, and that was merely to try. He believed with every ounce of him that she would indeed try, if only for him.

But he wanted to get her out of those potentially Dark thoughts for the moment, and cleared his throat. "Whatever you do, _don't_ take Divination," he said, and before she could ask why, continued. "Trelawney—the woman who teaches it—is completely crackers. She predicts one student's death every year, and none of those or the majority of her other predictions have ever come true. The subject itself is entirely unreliable and, even if taught by a real Seer, is only guesswork. Even Dumbledore originally wanted to take it off the curriculum. Trust me, you'd end up snapping Trelawney's neck on the first day."

"If he wanted to take it off the curriculum, why didn't he? I can't see the Ministry or the school governors arguing with that, since it's apparently such a useless subject."

When he had mentioned Dumbledore wanting to take it off, he honestly hadn't imagined it would lead to this question. The true answer to it was the basis of all the things that he had not yet told her—that he used to be a Death Eater, that Voldemort had killed the woman he loved so he was now sworn to protect her son… And there was a sudden uncomfortable sensation in his chest, telling him that he was not ready to tell her. He wasn't sure that he'd ever _not_ have that feeling when it came close like this, and so he figured that one day, he'd have to fight that feeling and do it anyway. But not now.

Severus couldn't avoid this altogether, so he decided upon the truth, but leaving out the important details.

"He would have if it weren't for Trelawney. She seemed like a charlatan at first—and she is—but she ended up predicting a real prophecy. There were people on the Dark Lord's side that wanted to know the prophecy, so Dumbledore gave her the job to protect her. When the Dark Lord returns with a body, hearing the prophecy will likely be the first thing he wants to do."

Once again, Vesperra realized he was being vague for a reason, and he sounded a bit reluctant to tell her this. This was another one of those things that he couldn't tell her in detail, either because he was forbidden to or because he couldn't bring himself to. She respected that, however curious she was about the nature of the prophecy, and said no more about it.

"I suppose I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, then," Vesperra said, folding the list of subjects back up and stuffing it in her robe pocket, "because the other three are rubbish. To me, at least."

From then until lunch, Vesperra and Severus talked—mainly Severus—about what those two classes were like. Vesperra didn't move from her position, sitting long-ways on the couch with her legs crossed on his lap as his hands rested on them. The only downside to sitting that way was that Severus couldn't reach her hand.

"Almost everyone's outside today," she said when they had returned from lunch, leaning against the wall and folding her arms. "And it actually is a nice day. I do prefer the dungeons, but if the grounds were empty or we knew for sure that no one would see us, I wouldn't mind sitting by the lake and talking… or reading, or something…"

Contrary to popular belief amongst those who knew who she was, Vesperra did not hate sunlight or even really mind it. She just didn't like being out in the open, or going outside to do homework when she could do it in the silence and privacy of the school Library. And she had sensitive skin. But from what she had gathered as she passed a window on her way out of the Great Hall, it was a nice enough day, and not too nice for her taste, that she felt she'd allow herself to indulge in it if she could.

Those words—nice day, by the lake, talking, reading—had touched something as they passed through his ears, a memory long buried, and dragged it towards his conscious thoughts. _Wait—we can._

"Have you ever gone… exploring in the dungeons, Vesperra?" he said suddenly, confusing her slightly.

"No, I haven't—why?"

"That surprises me, since I'd have expected you of all people to want to know more about the dungeons… But there's many passageways down here, not necessarily secret, but… _complex_. You could get lost if you didn't have a good sense of direction. A lot of the places you'd find are old potions classrooms or empty rooms with chains hanging from the ceiling, but I've—well, you'll see what you get there."

Vesperra was still confused, but at least managed to grasp that he was taking her somewhere, and that it was in the dungeons.

Severus put one hand on the door, and then immediately removed it, remembering one other thing he ought to do. He took out his wand, and looked at Vesperra. "If anyone happens to be roaming the dungeons and sees you walking with me, the entire detention ploy would have been worthless," he explained. "I'm going to cast a Disillusionment Charm on you, so no one can see you."

She nodded in understanding, and he tapped his wand on the top of her head and muttered an incantation. It felt as if a raw egg was being cracked where his wand had tapped, and cold shivers ran down her body. Looking down at her hands, expecting to be invisible, she saw that she had actually taken on the color and texture of everything behind her. That made her as cold and hard as the stone walls and floors—great, now she fit her personality even better.

If he hadn't been the one to cast the charm, he wouldn't have been able to see even the vague outline of her—Good, that meant it worked better than properly. Reaching out tentatively so he wouldn't accidentally poke her in the eye, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and opened the door.

For the stretch of the dungeon that everyone knew about, Vesperra followed behind him, and occasionally grabbed onto his arm to let him know she was still there. The whole way, she wondered impatiently where he was taking her, but didn't speak. It was twenty minutes, during which he had led her through some corridors she had never seen or heard of, before he stopped and put an arm out to judge exactly where she was and took the Disillusionment Charm off of her. It was the opposite feeling as before—if felt like something warm had trickled down her body, and then she was her usual color and texture again.

"No one should be this far down…" said Severus, stowing his wand back in his pocket. Casually, he took her left hand in his right and took her down a corridor. He walked along the left side of it, running his hand along the wall, eyes unfocused, apparently deeply concentrating on what he felt. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Here," he muttered to himself. "It should be here…" Severus bent down and searched along the edges where the floor met the wall until he found a stone about half the size of his fist, and lifted it. He was sure it had been the right one when the stretch of wall in front of them slid out of sight to reveal a tunnel, much like the Slytherin Common Room entrance did.

Putting the stone in his pocket so he could put it back in its place when they returned, he took out his wand, whispered "_Lumos,_" and pulled Vesperra into the tunnel with him. "Don't cut yourself," he said, turning towards her for a second. "It's a bit rough in here."

Vesperra still didn't ask any questions, and simply let him lead her through the tunnel. She could easily walk upright in it, but Severus had to crouch down, as he was at least six feet tall. A couple times, one of the rocks beneath her feet crumbled and she nearly lost her footing, but he was able to catch her both times. Although it didn't feel like it because it was such a long passageway, she suspected that the tunnel was gradually sloping upward.

Eventually, they reached a dead end, and Vesperra's heart dropped for a second before Severus waved his wand across the rock in front of them and it moved aside, revealing almost blinding light. They stepped out, and the light diminished, her eyes getting used to the brightness after being in that tunnel for what felt like an hour. She looked around, and they seemed to be in a small, grassy clearing in front of a lake—the Black Lake. And in the distance off to the side was Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest across from them. They were at the other side of the lake.

She turned to Severus, who was looking around as well, taking in the place as though he had not seen it in a long time. "How—?"

"I discovered that passageway and this clearing in my second year," he said, still glancing around. "I used to come here a lot…" In his mind, he finished the sentence; _with Lily._ He had found it on his own, but once he did, he had told Lily and they spent a lot of their weekends there. They could spend all the time they wanted there and no one would ever know… But he hadn't come here since his fifth year at Hogwarts. His last time here with Lily had been a few weeks before their O.W.L. Exams… And he remembered that day as a good one. He had had no idea at the time that the end of that year would mark the end of his friendship with Lily.

It was on a whim that he had brought Vesperra here, fueled by excitement from remembering the place but not specific events there that he had pushed deep in the back of his mind, a strange drive to make Vesperra happy, as she wanted to enjoy the day with him, and a niggling desire to enjoy the day with her. But now, he half-wished he hadn't remembered it, because actually seeing the surrounding trees and rocks that hadn't changed after all these years brought him sharp pain, and he almost couldn't take it. Severus hid the pain deep inside so Vesperra wouldn't see it, and tried to act like he was happy about coming here. He had been the one to bring her, after all.

"That tunnel isn't as big as it used to be," said Severus, indicating his somewhat aching back and sitting down. Vesperra sat with him—not that she had any choice, because he was gripping her hand rather tight. He leaned back onto the soft grass so he was lying on the ground, and Vesperra did as well. She turned her head a bit to view him from this angle, and smiled.

His long, shiny black hair fell from his face and splayed on the grass where his head lay, and the light breeze blew a few wild strands into her own face. The trees hanging over them cast enough of a shadow that his skin didn't look as sallow as it was—not that she minded it, but the light leaking through the spaces in between the leaves speckled his face and robes. It gave her an uncomfortable, yet welcoming sensation in her chest that she didn't understand.

In this lighting, she could see the lake reflecting in his obsidian eyes—or were his eyes reflecting in the lake? Both were still, and dark, and deep… although his eyes were definitely deeper. The moments before she spoke where infinitesimal—Vesperra felt as if she could lay there forever and never even have to talk, like the ground would absorb their heartbeats and relay it to the other person so they would know each other's thoughts.

For Severus, the memories of all the time spent with Lily at this very spot came to him, and as happy as they had all been, they brought him more and more pain. The pain of knowing he would never spend time with her again, the pain of knowing she had ended up hating him despite all of it and hadn't even started to forgive him until long after she had married James, the pain of knowing she was dead, and the pain of not being able to tell Vesperra any of this, because she had wanted to spend a nice day outside with him and he didn't want to break down in front of her.

He couldn't let her see his pain. He didn't want to feel the pain. There was a simple solution to both of those things, and so he emptied his mind of all thoughts and drained out all feeling until he was numb and in the Occlumency state. Severus was vaguely aware of the breeze on his skin and robes, of his surroundings, and of his hand clutching Vesperra's as they lay on their backs, staring at the thin canopy of leaves above them.

There was a suddenly a muffled sound in his ear, but it was too foreign for him to comprehend it at the moment. It got louder, and still he didn't acknowledge it, nor was he able to. Then, with a jolt, he snapped out of it as a small, cold hand grabbed his face and turned his head to the left.

"Severus!"

Vesperra's eyes held a brief, wild glint, and her face a hint of fear that soon disappeared as his own came back into focus and he reached softly remove her hand from his cheek. She stayed laying on her side, frowning at him.

"I said your name four times and you didn't even move or blink… and you're not one to zone out," she said. "Or had you fallen asleep with your eyes open?"

Lying flat on his back again, he said quietly, "I'm sorry—and I wasn't zoning out… I had slipped too far into the Occlumency state."

That would explain the extremely empty look his eyes had had… But Vesperra was a bit confused as to why he had gone into the Occlumency state in the first place. "What were you trying to block out exactly?"

"Oh, you know, the pain of life…" Vesperra's face became blank—unreadable. He didn't know whether she suddenly had emotions to hide or if she had no emotion at all at the moment, and was just calm. "But… not anything in particular at the moment," he lied. "I do it so often that sometimes it just happens, especially in a peaceful setting like this." The second part wasn't a lie.

She had to say, that intrigued her. "So—you can just block out all feelings whenever you want to? And be numb?"

He raised an eyebrow, noticing that she seemed eager at the idea. "Well—yes—but it takes a lot of skill in Occlumency… Although, you seem to be very capable of it already."

"I can block out things sometimes… but sometimes it's too much and too difficult. And I can never block out everything, even though I'd like to. Definitely not now, though."

"Emotions _can _be too much of a burden sometimes… And being able to just slip into the Occlumency state is highly useful… but also addicting. You can't exactly _think_ when you're in it, or even be more than vaguely aware of what's going on if you slip too far. And you can't block out just one thing; it's all or none of it. But there _are_ feelings we want to feel, and people who use Occlumency too often forget that. If… if—say, _happiness_—is nearly being overwhelmed with grief, then most would choose to block it all out. But, depending on the case, it might be healthier to try and focus more on the happiness and possibly turn the grief into happiness as well."

Vesperra listened intently and took in every word he said. She knew that if he ever taught her Occlumency, it would be years from now, and he wouldn't want her to rely on it. The strange thing was, neither of them were very good with feelings—expressing them or dealing with them. It was the one topic at which they weren't exactly wise. Both of them preferred to push them away… So it was weird hearing him have a speech of sorts about it.

What she didn't know was that it was more of a monologue than a speech, and the only thing that kept it from being one was the fact that she was there. It was just a technicality. Severus wanted so badly to stop the demons from his past that had ironically lived in this place full of happy memories from invading him, but he couldn't. It didn't make sense to him until he came to the realization that this was the sort of pain that accompanied love… Everything he had ever done with Lily at this small clearing, every word they'd said, and every moment they'd spent had come close to breaking him with happiness he couldn't help but feel. The fact that those moments were gone was what had caused the pain.

But Vesperra was here _too_, lying next to him, and very happy to be next to him. The more they talked, the more the pain alleviated. But every silent moment brought back some. _Damn_—No. All she had wanted was to spend the rest of this nice day out here with him, in this place where they miraculously had privacy and couldn't be seen by anyone and just _enjoy the damn breeze_, and she was going to get that, God dammit.

So he decided to welcome the memories, but ignore the pain, like he always ignored the stabs he felt whenever Vesperra reminded him particularly of Lily, in hopes that it would become dull on its own. All those moments and memories that had been tragically buried in the crevices of his mind along with Lily's body when she had died… they could be recreated. He could recreate the happiness he had felt back then with Vesperra now, and though it would never be as strong, it might someday overwhelm the grief—at least the bit of it borne from this place. But that's all it could do—overwhelm it, never eradicate it. He never expected or intended to stop loving or grieving her.

For the next few hours until they had to get back to Hogwarts for dinner, they lied down on the grass and talked. And the grass was oddly comfortable enough that they dreaded the moment they would have to get up. And their hands remained clasped together between them, at this point because they were too used to it to have to make a conscious decision—they often just fell together. And Vesperra couldn't remember a time when she'd been happier, because somehow the fresh air had an effect on them unlike the stagnate air of the dungeons—not that she didn't like the dungeons. This just felt… _different_. And refreshing—for Severus, too, even though it took a while for that to sink in.

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**I have been waiting _forever_ to write this chapter... I had already planned it when I was in the middle of Book 1. I was excited to delve a little more into the Chamber of Secrets part of the plot, especially since we all know what happens after the Easter holidays. And if you don't remember, refer to your copy of The Chamber of Secrets. We all know what ultimately happens as far as the Chamber goes, but only I know exactly how it's going to play out for Vesperra and Severus. **

**As for the dungeon passageway and the clearing by the lake, I loved writing that part as well. Do you know what I would give to lie down in the grass with Severus? Everything.**

**Please review! They make my day- seriously, they do!**


	26. Book 2: Chapter 12

**This chapter was a bit hard to write, and I'm afraid it may not be as exciting overall as the others. There are a couple parts that I'm quite proud of myself for writing, but I admit a lot of things are more technical, and just for elaboration and explanation on canon events. Either way, I hope you like it- or at least don't hate it.**

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Vesperra lay on her stomach next to him, intently focused on the book on the grass beneath her face. Severus watched her eyes move quickly, yet steadily across the page so that she took in every word, much of which he was sure she had already memorized. The air was calm around them except for a light breeze that pushed the water of the lake behind them into soft waves that sloshed quietly into the edge of the grassy clearing, and swayed the thinner branches of the trees, which rustled and added to the peaceful scene. Occasionally a leaf or two would fall and land on Vesperra's book or Severus's face.

Since the first day he had brought her there, he had decided that this would be their place now. Years ago it had been his and Lily's place, where they would sit with their feet in the lake, talk with no fear of being overheard, study together… He wondered if she had ever come there after she stopped being friends with him, because he certainly hadn't. The pain would have been even worse back then, like pouring salt in a fresh wound. Coming back here after eighteen years had been like reopening wounds, though. It's not as if they had ever been healed, anyway—only bandaged, to stop the bleeding.

But as much pain as it brought him, he refused to give up. Severus _was_ going to try to get past the pain, or at least tolerate it. He loved Lily more than life itself, but he cared so much about Vesperra, too. And when he watched her study or just lay down next to her, he had the strangest feeling that he was a child again. He had no worries anymore, and his only real problem was Potter and his gang of friends that made his life hell… But they couldn't reach him or Lily here.

No—him and _Vesperra_, he reminded himself. But in reality, it wasn't all that different. And though it hurt to keep Lily's memory alive, Severus wanted to do so very badly. He _would_ be respecting her memory by coming to this place with Vesperra… It would be a shame to leave such a nice and peaceful place untouched and forgotten.

And what was more, he figured that with every day that they spent there, it would become easier and easier for him to tell Vesperra about Lily. He would eventually become very numb to the pain this place gave him, and might even welcome it, and they would have spent so much time in his childhood haven that he would just _have_ to tell her.

Severus knew he could have told her right then. They had all day, and it was just such a calming place… Vesperra was too smart to have to study so much, so she could just mark the page and close the book she had brought with her… She had originally wanted to study that day, especially since she had agreed with Severus that they shouldn't go to the clearing too often or else it wouldn't be as special, but it was the last day of the Easter Holiday and Severus had wanted to spend it here.

Hardly aware that he had even decided to do it, he turned on his left side and reached out an arm, closing Vesperra's book. She turned to him, looking confused.

"Vesperra," said Severus, his heart beating at a normal rate despite what he was about to do. "There's something I need to tell you…" But he trailed off, because the shade they had just been in because of the trees overhead had turned into real darkness, and the wind picked up speed.

He squinted up at the sky. What was once a cool blue was now dark grey, infused with rapidly moving and billowing clouds of smoky purple. The wind was rocking the trees so hard that a flurry of leaves blew everywhere, mostly into the lake but also all over Severus and Vesperra's robes. And the waves in the lake were no longer soft, but huge, and crashing ominously on the shore.

What could have caused a freak storm like this? Severus immediately turned to Vesperra, who seemed almost paralyzed, and threw a protective arm around her waist, ready to carry her into the tunnel. But something was off… This was no ordinary storm. It wasn't even raining.

Just as he was about to stand up and pull Vesperra with him, his left forearm burned suddenly and horribly and he let go of her to clutch it with his right hand. It was the Dark Mark… _he_ was close.

"He's coming," Severus choked out, staring into Vesperra's eyes that only held a hint of fear despite all she must be feeling. "He's coming, Vesperra, now go—run—hide—now! I'll fend him off—go!"

As he lifted to her feet and shoved her towards the tunnel entrance, there was a flash of lighting and a terrible clap of thunder, then there seemed to be an avalanche. Large chunks of rock from the mountain that the clearing jutted out of rolled down, quickly gaining speed, and in only a few seconds had blocked the only way out. Severus had to pull Vesperra out of the way to keep her from getting crushed herself. For a moment he just held her—_I pushed her towards it—I could have killed her…_

Before relief and guilt could overcome him, a column of black smoke rose from the grass on the edge of the clearing, and it convulsed strangely until taking a shape and solidifying, at which it became a tall, thin hooded figure. All Severus could do was stand there, but he instinctively stood in front of Vesperra, keeping his wand at the ready. But he knew that would be useless… No one stood a chance against Lord Voldemort himself, not even him. Did he _know_? Was Severus being punished for abandoning the Death Eaters? Did Voldemort take a break from attacking Muggleborns to find him and get revenge?

"Severus, my faithful Death Eater and spy…" said Voldemort in the easily recognizable, yet chilling to the bone all the same, voice. It was high, yet not feminine at all. "Step aside, Severus. It is the girl I want."

"No!" he pleaded. His hair whipped every which-way, as well as his robes. The stance he was in, the darkness surrounding them, and the way he felt reminded him of another day quite like that… from about eleven years ago. "Not _her_—kill me instead—_please_, spare her!"

Voldemort didn't do anything for a moment. He kept his face hidden under his hood, so it was impossible to know whether he was considering Severus's pleads or pausing for dramatic effect before he did away with them both. Heart beating in desperation for something to happen and fear for Vesperra's life, Severus stared wide-eyed at his former master.

"And why would I kill _you_, Severus?" said Voldemort, laughing. "I have no reason to. The girl, however, must die." With a casual flick of his wand, Severus's arms and legs snapped together and, stiff as a board, he fell to the ground. The pain of having landed on one of the chunks of rock that had fallen was nothing compared to knowing what was about to happen and that he could do absolutely nothing about it.

As Voldemort glided forward, Vesperra backed up into the pile of rocks that blocked the tunnel, looking absolutely horror-struck. The rock that Severus's upper back had collided with was propping him up so that he was facing the scene that was to come. He tried to yell for Vesperra, but his jaw was forced shut by the Full Body-Bind.

"Vesperra… D'Monicas," Voldemort said almost casually. "You would have been a worthy follower of mine, with your… skills in the Dark Arts, noble Wizarding ancestry, _lust_ for power… But you are meddlesome. You know which others don't, and you have the means to discover my secret."

Then Voldemort let out a strangled hissing noise, and Severus could only assume that he was speaking Parseltongue. Vesperra spoke back to him, also in Parseltongue. As Voldemort made one last brief hiss, Vesperra's eyes widened, but she stood her ground. Knowing what was coming next, Severus wished he could turn away or even close his eyes, but the Body-Bind Curse kept him from doing so. And he was forced to watch as the Dark Lord raised his wand slightly, lower it, and say "_Avada Kedavra!_"

It all seemed to happen in slow-motion, each second drawn out agonizingly long. If he weren't temporarily petrified, Severus would have been trembling. But he _was_ crying, because the tears were leaking heavily from his forced-open eyes. He watched Vesperra's pupils dilate and all the shadows of her face were illuminated as there was a flash of green light aimed directly at her chest. She didn't have time to scream or even for a single twitch of her finger before the light hit her.

Whatever light that was in her eyes left, and she crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Voldemort whirled around smoothly and triumphantly, then raised a long-fingered hand and snapped his fingers before once again becoming smoke and disappearing altogether.

For a few seconds, Severus was still unable to move—partly because he didn't know the Body-Bind Curse had been lifted, partly because he was paralyzed with shock, and partly because he had a sudden lack of will to live. But then his lips twitched as he involuntarily let out a moan of despair, and he realized he could move. His face contorting into one of absolute and utter pain, he forced himself to move and dragged himself across the grass and to Vesperra's body.

Severus didn't fully understand why she had been killed or how Voldemort had gotten a body and found them, but his confusion was overwhelmed by the extreme sadness and grief he felt after what had happened—no, it was much more than sadness… It was emptiness. He was lost, he couldn't think straight, and he wanted to die. More than anything, he wanted to die. He felt like had lost Lily all over again, but this time he had been forced to witness it happen.

As he crawled up to Vesperra's limp body, what was left of his heart and sanity shattered. She was laying on her side, propped up by the large rocks behind her. Her hair and robes were disheveled, and her limbs were sticking out at awkward angles. Severus let out the remaining air from his lungs in a strangled sob-moan when he dared to look at her face.

There wasn't a single crease or line in her face, which in itself proved that she was no longer alive. He stared into her eyes that did not stare back, and immediately broke down. He didn't grit his teeth or try and prevent whimpers of pain escape his lips as he let his tears fall on her, as if they could bring her back to life. Softly yet swiftly, he scooped her up in his arms and cradled her body, sobbing and pressing his cheek onto her cold forehead, wishing so badly that she could come back… or that he could die.

"Ves…perra…" cried Severus in between gasps, completely losing himself. "_Vesperra…"_ No… He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't… If he had failed in protecting her, who he loved _so_ much… then how could he expect to protect Potter, a boy he hated? The guilt was unbearable… He could never forget Lily, but he suddenly didn't think himself worthy. He should have died years ago before he had the chance to indirectly kill her. He deserved to die. He wanted to die. Everything in his life that had ever given him any happiness was gone, and he would welcome death.

Behind him, the waves of the lake crashed harder than ever, so much that he could feel the mist hitting his back. Even though the crashing was drowned out in Severus's mind by his sobs and inner screaming, he couldn't help but notice an ominous sizzling-like noise growing louder and louder. Slowly, Severus turned his head around, and saw a gargantuan wave—at least twenty feet tall—rising to its peak and about to fall on him.

Knowing that the wave would drown him, he immediately clutched Vesperra's body tighter to him and closed his eyes, relieved.

* * *

When the water hit his face, Severus's eyes flew open. He automatically assumed he was dead, because the first thing he saw was Vesperra staring straight at him, very much alive. It would only make sense that they'd enter Limbo together, since they had died only minutes apart. Or perhaps she had been waiting there for him.

"Severus… Severus! Are you awake?" Vesperra let out a sigh of relief, and relaxed her shoulders. She leaned over him, supporting herself with one hand on the ground and the other gripping his face worriedly. "Severus, you—you fell asleep, and I was studying, so I just let you sleep… But then you started jerking—not like thrashing, but just random little spasms… And you starting crying—and moaning my name. I tried shaking you and yelling at you to wake up, but it wouldn't work—so I splashed water on your face."

It all came together in his head, though it took a minute, for his mental processes were still hazed from thinking that both of them had died. Upon realizing that none of that had been real and that Vesperra was very much alive, he sat up, inadvertently forcing her to let go of his face and sit up as well. He almost didn't believe it… Reaching out, he brushed his fingers on the side of her face, afraid that they would go right through and she would turn out to be an illusion. But they didn't, and he could feel that she was solid.

Vesperra sat there, slightly confused as Severus, with a look of ultimate relief, cupped her face briefly in his hand, ran a thumb across her cheek, grabbing and lightly shaking her shoulder and arm. Without warning, he threw his arms around her and pulled her to himself as tight as possible without hurting her. He held his left arm around her lower back and his right hand held her head to his chest. She gasped sharply in surprise but didn't say anything, as she then heard a slight whimper from him and it sounded like he was crying.

"I thought—you… were dead…" said Severus in a slow, quiet voice, trying not to tremble. He didn't want to say what had happened out loud, but he couldn't just tell her it was nothing. Because it obviously wasn't. "It was… just a dream—a nightmare—but it felt so real, more real than any other dream I've had… And the Dark Lord… came, and… killed you. I tried to protect you, but… I _couldn't_… and I had to watch it happen. He killed you because—he said you knew things that no one else did, and that you—you had the means to discover his secret…"

Hearing Severus's voice broken like that and having him shake as he held her so close to him really shook Vesperra. She felt so sorry that he had to experience that kind of nightmare, and at the same time amazed that he'd be reduced to this if she had ever died. Her ear was pressed tightly against his heart, and she could hear the frantic beat very clearly.

Vesperra managed to free her arms from his grip and hug him back, which she did as tightly as she could. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said, her voice slightly muffled as she was speaking into his robes. "But… I'm _alive._ I'm most certainly _not_ dead…"

"I _know_," Severus said, now rocking back and forth slightly. "And you can never know how happy I am that you're alive. It was _too_ real, Vesperra… _This means something_." He calmed down some and loosened his hold on Vesperra enough that she could lean back at least a foot. She frowned at him, so he steadied his voice and said, "This may sound crazy, but I don't believe I'm completely sane after that… nightmare—Was there any truth to what the Dark Lord said? _Do_ you know anything that you haven't told me? Or do you know how to discover his 'secret,' whatever it is?"

She shook her head. "I tell you everything, Severus… And no, I haven't any idea how—and I'd guess it has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets. But it was just a dream, Severus, so you can't assume anything in it was true—"

"Be that as it may, I refuse to take risks. Perhaps it means nothing, but perhaps this knowledge will come to you in the future. I don't want you walking in the corridors alone, and… if you ever get the urge to spy on someone, _don't_."

"But I'm not _in_ any danger, Severus—it isn't even possible for Y—"

"At this point, we don't know what is possible and what isn't," Severus said angrily. "He might—he could set his monster on you, if the dream had any truth to it… Just—_please_, do as I say… _I can't_—if _you_ were killed… _Please_."

Vesperra searched his yes, but she didn't know what for. All she found, however, was desperation. "Okay," she breathed. "But… what about me visiting you in your office?"

"We'll figure that out. For now… we should return there. I—" Severus glanced at the lake, which was still, and the sky, which was the usual cool blue and not ominous in the least. Still, he felt uneasy. "I don't want to be here anymore. Not today, at least." On an impulse, he pulled Vesperra close again for a few seconds.

"Yes, we should…" Vesperra, still in Severus's arms, began to stand up, but stopped when her face was level with his. She wiped the moisture off his cheeks—a combination of tears and the lake water she had splashed on him to wake him up. Grabbing the sides of his face, she tilted it downward and kissed the bridge of his nose.

Severus closed his eyes as she did, and opened them to see her smiling sadly at him. Reluctantly, he let his arms fall and stood up as well. As Vesperra went to pick up the book she had brought with her, he lightly touched the spot where she had kissed. She went straight to the mouth of the tunnel and then stopped, turning and waiting for him. He didn't hesitate in catching up with her, grabbing her hand and take the journey back down the tunnel to the dungeons.

* * *

That dream haunted him for several days afterward. It wasn't because Vesperra had been killed in it, since he'd had dreams where she died before. It was how real it felt, very much unlike his other dreams. The beginning had been just like their actual day—her studying, and him watching… But he had been about to tell her about Lily when things went awry. Had Severus been awake, would he have actually told her? He wasn't sure, because his conscious self may not have felt the smae. If it weren't the fact that Voldemort had come and killed her, he would have been disappointed that it was only a dream.

And perhaps spending enough time in that clearing _would_ have made it easier to tell her, but Severus didn't know if he could go back there any time soon. Now it was not only that the memories of him and Lily brought him pain, but also that he had an irrational fear that Vesperra would actually be harmed or even killed there. The nightmare hadn't made complete sense—Voldemort would have to have a body to do any magic—but there was all that he had said… It sounded as though he was afraid Vesperra would stop him from keeping the Chamber open.

Severus was glad for term to start so he'd have things to distract him from those thoughts. As it was the last couple months of school, the lessons were becoming more difficult, more homework was being dished out, and thus there were much more essays to grade. Vesperra was nearly as busy as he was, what with all her homework and studying, so she couldn't have visited him during the week even if he hadn't made her be extra careful after having had that dream.

Her safety was possibly the most important thing to him, and he couldn't help but feel even more protective over her than Potter at times. He remembered how he had felt when he had watched her die, then cradle her dead body in his arms… Severus was willing to risk his life to protect Lily's son, but Vesperra was all he had. It would be like Lily dying all over again. Sure, he might have been able to go on living, but that would be a worthless, miserable existence, worse than he had been before, living only to avenge those he had lost. So he just hoped his circumstances would never define his life to be that way. Severus could protect both of them—the difficult part was deciding which of them took priority.

As wrapped up as they were in their work and personal matters, they both planned to go to the Quidditch game on the second Saturday of term. They hadn't spent any time together the weekend before, as the only way Severus would allow Vesperra to visit him was if he escorted her, and they couldn't risk the possibility of anyone seeing them. So they had only been speaking through the journals, and making the most of brief glances at each other during meals or Potions class.

Besides, nothing could stop them from hating Potter and Gryffindor House, and they wanted to see them crushed. But seeing as they were against Hufflepuff, they didn't get their hopes up.

* * *

Vesperra had to admit that she was a bit frightened by the possibility of Voldemort wanting to kill her. She couldn't put it off as Severus just being paranoid, since she knew that some dreams held real answers. The last time she had dreamt—which had been the first in years—had been last year, and it had led her to realizing that Malfoy had been the one to nearly kill her by exploding her flask, and getting revenge on him.

She couldn't see how Voldemort would have the means to kill her, though. If he did, then why hadn't he set Slytherin's monster her? Why hadn't he attacked anyone in months? Still, she did as Severus told her to do and never walked around alone. But she did argue when he told her she couldn't visit him. Vesperra figured she was perfectly safe making the short walk through the dungeon corridors from the Common Room to his office, but Severus refused to take even the tiniest of risks. It was almost annoying, how much he cared about her.

During the second week of term, the conversation everywhere was dominated by Quidditch. Though not everyone had forgotten or forgiven the stupid mistake Malfoy had made that cost Slytherin the first game, even most Slytherins seemed excited. All anyone wanted was to see Gryffindor lose.

On Saturday, Vesperra looked forward to the time she'd be able to talk to Severus face-to-face or at least sit next to him, even though it would probably be only about ten or twenty minutes. After breakfast, she returned to her dorm and waited for a half-hour before eleven. She decided she might as well pass the time by trying to finish the Charms essay she hadn't been able to get done the night before. But right as she decided she should leave and move down to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school, she heard something that made her heart stop and sent chills down her spine.

"_Let me rip… tear, kill…kill this time…_"

And then it was gone, as well as the sudden chill. Vesperra tried to wrap her mind around it… She hadn't heard that voice in months—not since Halloween. It sort of echoed… and it sounded as if it were coming from inside the walls, and moving upward. Deciding to tell Severus as soon as possible, she threw the door to her dorm open and hurried down the torch-lit passageway that led to the Common Room. Most of the other Slytherins were passing through as well, wanting to get a good seat before they were all taken.

As she walked out into the grounds, surrounded by the throng of students, Vesperra craned her neck to get a good look across the lake. She wondered if she would be able to spot her and Severus's clearing from there—she couldn't. She also wondered when the next time they would be able to relax there would be… Probably not anytime soon.

The pitch was only starting to get crowded, so it wasn't too difficult to make her way through the stands. Malfoy had found his seat with Crabbe and Goyle as usual, some of the other Slytherin second-years sitting around him. Trying to pass them quickly and inconspicuously, Vesperra took the trouble to walk behind them. Eventually she found Severus, sitting in the very back of a nearly empty box.

* * *

Having expected her, Severus didn't hesitate in pulling his wand out when she sat down and casting a _Muffliato_ shield around them.

"We're more easily seen without rain, you know," Severus said. "And—"

"I know we are, but we haven't spent any time together for a couple weeks…" argued Vesperra, frowning at him.

Severus sighed and leaned back. "I've spoiled you the past few moths. What on earth are you going to do this summer?"

It was a casual question, but it made her throat tightened up at once. She hadn't really thought about what would happen during the coming summer all year. "Well, I'll have to visit you at your house, won't I? If my mum won't let me… then I suppose I'll just go insane. It's not as if I haven't before."

Turning slightly to lock eyes with her, he scrutinized her face. Vesperra looked perfectly serious, and she didn't smirk after a few seconds. So he decided that she _was_ being perfectly serious. He loved her occasional blatant honesty—it was nice to hear it when mostly everything else (that was actually important) was only possible honesty.

"You're welcome to visit whenever you like," he said softly. "And if your parents don't let you… well, we'll figure something out. I don't fancy the idea of you becoming anything like that Lovegood girl."

Smirking, Vesperra said, "Me neither." She then remembered what Luna had said to Severus during her first lesson, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

Soon, almost the entire school had found seats and the teams walked out onto the pitch, triggering a deafening applause. Madam Hooch released the balls, and Vesperra realized all of a sudden that she had forgotten to tell Severus about hearing the voice again during their short conversation. She decided to do so once the noise died down, but then Professor McGonagall marched onto the field with an enormous purple megaphone.

Severus and Vesperra immediately looked to each other in mutual shock, as they both feared the worst.

"This match has been cancelled," announced McGonagall. While Vesperra and Severus waited to her the reason with baited breath, the rest of the stadium booed and shouted protests. "All students are to make their way back to the House Common Rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Inhaling sharply, Vesperra whipped her head around. "Severus, do—?"

"No questions now," he said sternly, having already stood up. "Just—get to your Common Room. I have to find out what's going on…" With that, he squeezed her shoulder and strode away.

* * *

Vesperra blanched and pushed through the crowd. The majority of them had obeyed Professor McGonagall and tried to leave quickly, though they were mostly complaining that the match had been cancelled. It greatly annoyed and even somewhat sickened her to see how so many people valued Quidditch over their lives. Some looked worried, but none of them could have been dreading this as much as her. But then again, she doubted many of them were smart enough to guess what must have happened.

When she reached the Slytherin Common Room, she was about to pass directly through to her dorm out of habit, but stopped herself. It felt strange, almost against nature itself, as she had never stayed in the Common Room. Malfoy was sitting in one of the large, dark green armchairs with a group of Slytherins around him, so Vesperra picked a spot on the wall on the other side of the room and leaned against it, hoping no one would antagonize her in the time it took Severus to get there.

It wasn't long until every single Slytherin was in the Common Room, and it was much too crowded for Vesperra's liking. At least there were enough people separating her from Malfoy. She kept her eyes on the entrance, waiting for Severus—she didn't have to wait long.

* * *

Before he could get down to the pitch to speak to McGonagall, the woman walked off with Potter and Weasley and they were quickly devoured by the endless crowd of students. So Severus hurried to get inside the school and headed straight for the staffroom. Many of the other teachers were gathered in there, having gotten to the Quidditch match early and not yet knowing what had happened.

"Excellent timing, Severus," said Dumbledore gravely, stepping forward. "Something dreadful has happened, and you need to be among the first to know…"

As Dumbledore explained to the silent room, mainly to Severus, it felt as though a cold hand was clutching his heart, gripping tighter and tighter. The other professors gasped and covered her mouths, or stayed completely still and thin-lipped. After finishing, the Headmaster gave Severus a scroll of parchment and a grave look, to which he responded by scowling and exiting the staffroom. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, resounding with added dread for every step. He couldn't breathe properly, but his brain was too preoccupied with trying to deal with what he just heard to multitask and he felt like he didn't have to breathe, anyway.

Severus eventually made it to the stretch of wall in the dungeons concealing the Slytherin Common Room, and gave it the password. Stone-faced, he walked inside.

* * *

The room went silent when Severus entered, and everyone stared at him. Vesperra could see a good portion of him, even though she was in the back—she wasn't very tall, but she wasn't exactly short, either. He took a moment to speak, which she guessed was either because he was waiting to make sure no one was still talking or because he was trying to find her in the crowded room.

The latter guess would have been correct, but Severus couldn't see her behind all of the older students that were in front of her. Folding his arms, he spoke in his usual quiet, soft, and slightly nasal voice, taking pauses so the news could sink in. "There has been another double attack—on Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater."

No gasps were made at that, but a lot of the students fought back smirks and Vesperra could have sworn she saw Malfoy from her peripheral vision mouthing "Yes!"

"But—isn't Clearwater a Half-Blood?" asked a fifth year boy in the front, eliciting nods from those around him who were also confused.

"Exactly," said Severus darkly. "You can no longer assume that you are safe from being attacked based on blood status, although it is unlikely that the Heir of Slytherin would attack a Slytherin. However, to ensure everyone's safety, the Headmaster has decided that these necessary precautions will be taken;" This was where he would have read from a scroll of parchment, but he had a rather good memory and repeated what he had read in the staffroom.

"All students will return to their House Common Rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All Quidditch training and matches—in our case, none—are to be postponed.

There will be no more evening activities."

There were quiet, yet still audible groans amongst them, as they seemed to be much more disappointed about the restriction on activities than the fact that the school was in danger. Severus could see why—they'd obviously be excited for all of the Muggleborns to die, and he doubted many of them even liked Dumbledore.

Even though he sincerely doubted that any of them knew anything about the attacker or the monster, he felt obligated as a teacher to say this, and figured that possibly one of them might have noticed anything suspicious.

"If any of you believe you have any knowledge of the person behind these attacks or the monster involved, I urge you to _step forward_." At first, no one moved, as he had expected, and his scow deepened as he turned, about to leave. But then—

"I think I do, sir," said Vesperra, breaking the silence. She was prepared to push aside those in front of her, but didn't need to, since they immediately stepped aside for her. All heads in the room were turned toward her, all bearing looks of shock. She felt strangely exposed, and hated the feeling.

Severus turned back around and watched as she walked forward confidently, his confusion dissipating as he realized what she was doing. "You do?" he said slowly, tilting his head downward and arching an eyebrow at her.

She nodded, paying no attention to any of the faces staring at her but Severus's, and outright avoided looking at Malfoy's. "Yes, sir."

Feigning consideration, he made to look as though he were analyzing her and, after a few seconds, said, purposely sounding suspicious, "Follow me to my office, Miss D'Monicas." With a jerk of his head, he turned to leave, but waited for Vesperra to walk briskly across the Common Room before opening the door.

Once the stone wall slid back over the Common Room door, he put his hand in between her shoulder blades as they walked. It was something he hadn't had the chance to do in weeks, and he felt like nothing could harm her if he had at least one hand on her. In his other hand he held his wand, ready to curse or cast any counter-cure that was suddenly necessary. They didn't speak the whole way, mostly because they were used to waiting until in private to talk. And even though it was probably useless now, Severus still cast an Imperturbable Charm on his office door when they were inside.

"I don't suppose you actually have anything, do you?" said Severus as they both sat down on his couch.

"Actually, I do," Vesperra said, scooting closer to him. He was surprised, but desperate for any information, so he made a sharp nod to motion for her to go on. "I heard that voice again, Severus—the same one I heard on Halloween."

"What does that have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked.

"I was getting to that. Well, I heard the voice on Halloween before Mrs. Norris was attacked, and I heard it before the Quidditch match today, and then two more people are Petrified. Granted, I heard it before Halloween and no one was attacked then, and I didn't hear it when Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick were attacked… but you can't ignore that it's strange. I mean, I hadn't heard the voice in months, and no one had been attacked in months—then both things happen within an hour with each other."

"When did you figure this out?"

"When I was on my way back to the castle. I always could have told you later through the journals, but I knew this would probably be the last time we get to spend together until we figure everything out—_if_ we figure everything out… which I doubt. The school will likely be closed, won't it?"  
Severus noticed the dead voice with which she spoke and the sadly defeated look on her face. He knew what she was feeling, and would have felt it as well if all this had happened when he was a student at Hogwarts. For both of them, Hogwarts was the first real home they'd had. As badly as they were treated by some of the other students, it was better than being at home with parents that didn't care about you.

"Yes, it will, if the attacker isn't caught… And the Dark Lord isn't likely to be caught, even if he is possessing a student—and we're not even sure whether that's happening or not," said Severus, scowling. Becoming this stressed in such a short amount of time was much worse than it would have been, and much more painful. So he stood up at once and went over to his desk, then opened one of the top drawers, pulled out two glass bottles, and brought them back to the couch.

"I thought you might need one—it's a Calming Draught," he told Vesperra as he handed one of the bottles to her. "I daresay we've got a lot ahead of us."

Grimacing, Vesperra unscrewed the cork and downed the whole thing, then took a deep breath. She felt a great deal less stressed than she had been, but still not as carefree or content as the Calming Draught would have made a normal person. She watched Severus down his as well, and then he took the empty bottle from her and set it aside with his.

Vesperra furrowed her brow and leaned against Severus, which automatically brought her a bit of comfort that the Calming Draught couldn't.

"Severus, this voice has something to do with the attacks, I just know it," she said, her cheek pressed into his arm. "But it doesn't make sense, because it keeps saying it wants to kill, but it's only Petrifying Muggleborns. I think… I think something's going wrong every time it means to kill, and it's getting angry. I would say that it's the voice of the monster, but I don't know of any dangerous creatures that can speak English…"

Perhaps it actually _was_ Voldemort speaking, Severus thought. What if Vesperra was the only one who could hear it because Voldemort allowed her to hear him? This would all make sense, tied in with his nightmare… It increased his fear that Vesperra would end up the next victim of Slytherin's monster, and would be killed rather than Petrified.

"Neither do I… And it doesn't make any sense why the Dark Lord waited so long to attack another person," Severus said quietly. Then he put one hand on Vesperra's shoulder and pushed her away slightly so he could straighten up and turn to her. "I know you want to help, Vesperra, but I just have this feeling that you're constantly in danger—even more so than the rest of the school is now. It's more than a feeling—I _know_. And now that we know that the Dark lord is in the school somehow at this very moment… it will be impossible to get any rest. As a professor, I will have patrolling duties everyday, and even more than that because of promises that I've made to Dumbledore. I know you want to help, but there's nothing you can do and I want you to resist the urge to investigate that voice. Yes—I realize that doing so may lead us to some answers, but it could just as easily lead to your death. I can't stress enough how important you are to me."

"I'm not going to put myself in danger, Severus… What makes you think I will?"

"Because you're stubborn and, like me, you don't like to leave clues untouched. And I don't think you understand how or believe that anyone could possibly care about you as much as I do. I _need_ you to understand that."

He was right… That _was_ difficult to understand for her. But if he cared about her as much as she cared about him, then that was a lot. "I understand, Severus," she said, leaning against him again—this time on his chest, because of the direction he was facing. "I know you can't promise that everything will be alright in the end, because it doesn't seem like it now. And… I know I won't be able to visit you at all anymore, but—"

"But we still have the journals—and you still carry yours with you all the time, don't you?" She lifted her head from his chest and nodded. "Good. I'll still make time to talk to you everyday, if you were worried about that. At least you have studying to keep you busy."

"I don't know if I'll even be able to focus on studying with _this_ hanging over us…"

"Nonsense, you've better focus than the majority of the older students, even when you're stressed. Just—don't go insane, okay?"

"I can't promise that."

He sighed, knowing that pushing the matter would be useless. After seeing the look in her eyes, he hesitated in standing up, but then forced himself to, and pulled Vesperra to a standing position as well. "I would let you spend all day in here with me if I could, but I have important things to do and you're only supposed to be telling me something you know about the attacks—it wouldn't make sense to the other Slytherins if you were here all day," he explained. "And we don't need them suspicious again on top of everything that's going on…"

Vesperra nodded in understanding, then grabbed his hand to interlace her fingers with his as he escorted her back to the Common Room.

* * *

Though he didn't doubt that Vesperra would be stressed out of her mind in the coming weeks, Severus knew she could never understand what he was feeling. Last year, it had been Quirrell. They hadn't known it involved Voldemort until everything was over, so he hadn't been as tense. Keeping Potter alive hadn't seemed as difficult when he thought it was only Quirrell. But now, Voldemort was in the castle again, and this time he had Slytherin's monster to do his work.

The strange thing was, he hadn't gone after Potter yet. Not that Severus wasn't extremely glad about it, but shouldn't Potter have been the first person Voldemort tried to kill? Severus knew that the boy, being so much like his father, would likely disregard the rules even though they were altered for the students' safety and try to sneak out. He would think himself above the rules, and completely invincible just because he was Harry-bloody-Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Well, he wouldn't live a second time—not when he was lacking even the average magical skills of a second year. Severus could only hope Potter would prove not to be as stupid as he had been in the past.

Dumbledore had set up shifts for all the teachers, prefects, and ghosts to patrol the corridors for weekends and weekdays, which would keep everyone about four times as busy as they normally were. He had also employed the help of the portraits to tell anyone that passed them of anything suspicious that they've seen. Luckily, he had given Lockhart one of the day shifts and Severus one of the night shifts that day, so he was free of that extra bit of annoyance. There would be no less than twenty people (alive or ghost) out in the corridors at any time, and many would have to skip meals and eat later.

That night, Severus stood in an empty corridor with Professor Sinistra, standing guard and repeatedly glancing at both ends of the corridor, expecting something to happen at any moment. But all was calm and deadly quiet except for faint footsteps in the distance that belonged to those marching the corridors in pairs. His face was still, not betraying all the dread that he felt. Every second brought him undeniable and completely rational fear that both Potter and Vesperra were in mortal danger. Slipping into an Occlumency state was out of the question, since he had to stay as alert as possible.

At some point during the night, he heard footsteps growing louder and immediately pointed his wand, which he already had in his hand, at the direction they were coming from. Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, then came around the corner, and he lowered his wand.

"I admire your readiness, Severus, but I do believe your paranoia is the worst out of the entire staff," said Dumbledore as he walked through.

"I have every reason to be paranoid," Severus said, barely opening his mouth as he spoke and meeting Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes with a harsh glare. Then he glanced at the Minister, and threw a questioning look at the Headmaster, who suddenly had a deadly serious expression.

"Cornelius and I have just come from my office," he explained. "And we're headed down to Hagrid's—he insists on sending Hagrid to Azkaban, and I was sadly unable to convince him—"

"You don't have to speak about me like I'm not right next to you, Dumbledore," said the Minister, looking anxious and turning his bowler hat in his hands by the rim. "And I never said I _wanted_ to do this, but it's necessary. Now, I'd like to get this over with, so could we please—"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Good evening, Severus, Aurora…" They walked away, and Professor Sinistra, who obviously wasn't sure of what was going on, looked to Severus as though to ask. He didn't acknowledge it, but returned to the spot that he had been just before and resumed standing guard. It was slightly disheartening to know that not even the Ministry had any idea how to deal with this situation, and was imprisoning an innocent man because they didn't know what other action to take… Severus never liked Hagrid—well, he didn't _like_ any of the other teachers, but Hagrid was less tolerable—but he believed in justice, and this was definitely not it.

Nothing at all happened for the next hour until his shift ended and Professors McGonagall and Vector came to take his and Sinistra's place so they could get some sleep—but Severus had no intention to go to sleep. Not immediately, anyway. He still wanted to tell Vesperra about Hagrid being sent to Azkaban… But on his way to the dungeons, he crossed paths with Dumbledore again—this time, he was with Lucius Malfoy.

"Severus, how nice to see you!" greeted Lucius, smiling his usual smug smile. "I'm afraid I can't stay and chat—I'm just here to see Dumbledore out once he collects his things and sets some things in order. The school governors have asked him to step aside, since he obviously can't stop these attacks…" he added at Severus's frown.

_Dumbledore gone? No, no… That's the_ last_ thing we need… _Severus panicked as his heart stopped. This could_ not_ be happening—oh, but it was, and he knew it was only because Lucius threatened to curse the rest of the governors' families if they didn't agree. Lucius _wanted_ the Chamber to stay open, because he hated Muggleborns… And then, of course, he had been a Death Eater and Dumbledore was his former master's enemy. Feeling a surge of hatred for his old friend, Severus scowled.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Lucius?" he said icily.

"Yes, I do. And it can't be revoked now, as all the governors have already signed the order for his suspension… But no worries, he won't be gone very long. Now Dumbledore, we ought to get moving—"

"If you don't mind, Lucius, I'd like to have a word with Severus first," said Dumbledore. Lucius frowned for a moment, but then nodded curtly and left the immediate area.

"So you're just going to let them have you step out?" hissed Severus as soon as he had the chance.

"You know that I have no choice in the matter, Severus. But I will return soon, I assure you that. Until then, do your duty to protect the school. Look out for the students—all of them, not just Harry and Miss D'Monicas."

He was about to leave, but Severus said, "You ask very much of me, you know."

"I do. But if I recall correctly, you signed up for this. The rest of the staff is helping as well, however, and I've no doubt that you'll manage."

With that, Dumbledore left, and Severus only remained standing where he was for a second before sweeping himself away to his chambers.

* * *

The moment Vesperra stepped inside the Common Room, she was surrounded by her fellow Slytherins.

"So what exactly do you know about the Heir of Slytherin, Grease-perra?" asked Malfoy, who had made sure he was the first one to her. There were a few seconds of silence as Vesperra glared at them all.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said dryly, pushing her way past them and to the dormitories. It was somewhat difficult with how crowded the Common Room was, but she was able to pass through. As she did, she could hear not-so-hushed voices saying things like, "I bet she really _is_ the Heir of Slytherin…" and "She only said she knew something because she wanted to be close to Professor Snape…" For those suspecting the latter, it was almost funny how right they were.

Vesperra had nothing to do but study all day, but eventually put her books away and just waited for Severus to be done with his shift so he could talk to her. She honestly hadn't expected the bad news that he had told her. Hagrid being sent to Azkaban wasn't really that big of a deal to her, but with Dumbledore gone… what the hell were they supposed to do now? Even with all the teachers never letting their guard down, the school just didn't feel safe without Dumbledore. As much as she was frustrated by that old man sometimes, he was powerful. He was probably the best protection the school had—well, not anymore.

Most of the other students and staff members seemed to share this view. Fear had spread like never before, and it was so thick in the air that Vesperra could almost taste it. Throughout the next couple weeks, she noticed that the Great Hall and corridors were much quieter than usual, and there wasn't an ounce of cheerfulness within the walls of Hogwarts. Vesperra would normally have been glad about that, but seeing as it was replaced with fear… It didn't even feel like Hogwarts anymore.

Two people that seemed wholly unaffected by the dread engulfing the rest of the castle were Lockhart and Malfoy. The latter wasn't necessarily unaffected, though—he was happier. Strutting about the school like he owned it, Malfoy was completely unafraid and actually enjoyed the terror and suspicion in the atmosphere. He seemed to think that he gained power simply because it was _his_ father that had brought about Dumbledore's suspension. Actually, Vesperra was probably the only Slytherin that wasn't at least apathetic about the entire thing. Unlike the others, she _wanted_ the school to stay standing, and she wanted the Muggleborns to live. And she knew so much more than the others… but it still wasn't enough.

* * *

As Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall took charge of the school in Dumbledore's absence. She was rather good at handling responsibility and leadership—even Severus thought so, but she was no Dumbledore.

And Severus couldn't help but be angry at the old man, as once again, he expected so much of him. Did Dumbledore _really_ think he could manage?—He was just relying on the fact that Severus would do whatever he asked… which he would. But did he ever seem to care about how difficult he was making this? No, of course not. Because Severus was just an employee with more duties than the rest, and employers don't care about how much work they ruthlessly dish out.

Perhaps Dumbledore had increased everyone's responsibilities for the sake of the school, since he could no longer do anything… but Severus's frustration didn't leave him at that thought. With the Headmaster gone, both Severus and Vesperra had expected attacks everyday, but there were none. But when teachers were escorting students everywhere and patrolling whenever possible, an attack really didn't seem possible. Nevertheless, Severus didn't stop worrying. However, it was nearly impossible to keep a close eye on Potter with all of his other duties, and he could only hope the boy was staying out of trouble and that Voldemort never found him. The only time he could keep an eye on him for longer than a few seconds was during Potions class.

* * *

The only class Vesperra had cared about the coming weeks was Potions, because she knew she'd be able to say a few words to Severus at the least. Because it was in the dungeons (and also because Severus was teaching), the dreary mood most of the other students were in wasn't much different than usual.

On the day of the Potions lesson the morning two weeks after Dumbledore left, Professor McGonagall took the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors to the dungeons, and Severus was there to open the classroom doors and let everyone in almost immediately. Everyone took their seats rather timidly, and Severus's voice as he explained that day's lesson added to the tension rather than cut through it.

As he got the class situated, Severus repeatedly took glances at Vesperra. He admittedly felt a rush of relief every time he saw her, since he was now able to only at meals and during lessons—and his paranoia that she was going to be killed had been getting worse. So he preferred being able to have her in his sight, and especially being able to look her directly in the eye. She was giving him her full attention and hanging onto his every word as usual, and she also appeared sort of breathless—probably because she wanted so badly to talk to him.

If Vesperra could hear his thoughts, she'd have told him that he was correct yet again. She hated all of this—all the fear, all the stress, and most of all not being able to talk to him in person. They had been in a similar situation last year, except back then she'd been able to stay after class for a minute or two and talk to him, and then after Christmas, they had spent every weekend in the Room of Requirement watching the Foe-Glass… But now she had no time to talk to him after classes, because he had to take them all to their next class immediately afterward. And it wasn't as simple as following and spying on one person anymore—no one had any rest.

At the moment, though, she tried to be grateful for the hour she had to at least be physically close to Severus, and directed her focus to her cauldron. When he went on his usual walk around the classroom and stopped behind her, she slowed down what she was doing even more than usual.

First glancing into her cauldron and noting that she had made no mistakes, as he naturally expected of her, Severus bent down over her table like the overgrown bat he knew he was. Though he didn't ever consciously think about it, he appreciated that he could do that sort of thing and everyone else recognized it as something he always did to appear even more intimidating, but with Vesperra it was more like a secret display of affection. He knew she didn't mind him hovering over her like that in the least.

Using his left hand to support himself casually above the table, he surreptitiously laid it partially on top of her resting hand. It was completely hidden from anyone else's view by her cauldron and his body, and even if he hadn't been sure of that, he'd have still done it… because he needed to.

Vesperra became considerably less tense the second he touched her hand, and almost smiled. She cocked her head at an angle so she could see his face, and gave him a meaningful look as if to say, "I miss you."

"Are you okay?" said Severus, barely moving his lips and so quietly that even she, though inches from his face, could hardly hear.

"Yes," she said just as quietly. He blinked, gave her a quick, yet deep look, and walked away to continue prowling around the room. That was all the time they would have together that day, and it had lasted less than a minute—but as time often did, it felt longer than it was, as though time had slowed down for them. Disappointed, Vesperra felt time as well as her work regain its usual speed.

While passing through the back rows, Severus heard Malfoy talking to Crabbe and Goyle.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he bragged. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in…"

Malfoy wasn't troubling to keep his voice down, as he didn't seem to care that everyone in the seats surrounding him could hear, which included Potter and Weasley, who were sitting right behind him. Severus was glad that Vesperra was at the front of the classroom and couldn't hear him—he didn't want her to get too angry, like he knew she would. Normally, he tolerated Malfoy because he was a Slytherin and the son of one of his old friends, even though he disliked the kid. Sometimes he disliked him slightly less, but only because Potter was also involved in said situation and he hated Potter much more. And sometimes he truly hated him for how he treated Vesperra, and hated even more that he had to pretend that he didn't.

Right now, he _did_ feel a surge of hatred for Malfoy, but that was already there because of what his father had done. The boy _wanted_ the Chamber open, and though he didn't know it, he was indirectly making Severus's life worse. Acting as though he didn't hear Malfoy's bragging, he swept past Potter's table and noticed Granger's empty seat, but didn't comment on it. Though he hated the insufferable know-it-all and wasn't upset at all that she wasn't in class, he hadn't wanted her to get Petrified… At least she wasn't killed, because then he might have felt bad.

As Severus made to take a look at Crabbe and Goyle's potions, Malfoy turned to him and looked up. "Sir," he said loudly, getting his attention. "Sir, why don't _you_ apply for the headmaster's job?"

This, Vesperra heard. Continuing to work on her potion, she turned her head very slightly to the right in an involuntary movement, listening intently for Severus's reaction. She just couldn't see _him_ as the Headmaster… He'd probably like the authority, but the responsibilities would far exceed the ones he had now.

Severus had a brief flash of him having complete charge over the school, and couldn't suppress a slight smile at the thought. There was no doubt he'd run things quite differently if he were Headmaster… But he was sure he'd be the most hated headmaster since Phineas Nigellus-Black, and that he wouldn't have enough time for Vesperra or even a shred of sanity left after a year. Dumbledore handled ultimate authority much better than he ever could.

"Now, now, Malfoy," said Severus firmly. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough." He _had _to come back soon. Severus knew he had stepped aside as told, but the old man would never let anyone keep him out of Hogwarts for too long.

Malfoy smirked. "Yeah, right," he said. "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job—_I'll_ tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir—"

Faking a smirk to match Malfoy's, Severus swept off around the dungeon and scowled again once his back was turned on him. It wasn't often that he was told he was the best teacher at Hogwarts, even from Slytherins, but Malfoy was just being a little kiss-arse, and Severus didn't particularly care for him or his father at the moment. Besides, he didn't need compliments when he got them almost daily from Vesperra.

Anger and disgust bubbled within her at Malfoy's attempt to suck up to Severus, but it died down when Severus's reply was curt and he didn't agree with enthusiasm—not that she had expected him to. Realizing that most of the hour had passed—thanks to her internal clock—and that the bell would ring any minute, she packed up her things.

When it did, Vesperra was the first one to leave her seat, and stood waiting for everyone else.

"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology," Severus said loudly over the class as they scrambled for their bags and books. He led everyone in an organized line—the students behaved theirselves with him much more than they did with the other teachers—and saw the Gryffindors out of the castle. He then took the Slytherins to History of Magic and, making sure to lock eyes with Vesperra for the briefest of moments first, returned to the dungeons.

* * *

"It is non-negotiable, Gilderoy," said McGonagall shrilly as she left the staffroom that evening to patrol. Lockhart's grin fell, only to return in a matter of seconds.

"Paranoid, that's what you people are—Hagrid's been arrested, and yet you insist on all these unnecessary security measures," said Lockhart with a disapproving, yet not at all grim tone.

Completely unlike Malfoy and many of the other Slytherins, who were glad to have the Chamber stay open, Lockhart was cheerful because he believed that the school was completely safe. No one bothered to tell him that Voldemort was the only one who could have opened the Chamber, as they didn't need him interfering. The one thing that Severus was glad to see was that Lockhart wasn't as disgustingly cheerful as often as he used to be these days. On the mornings after his night shifts, he'd show up in the staffroom with disheveled hair—he had obviously not had time to curl it—and his eyes a bit sunken.

The room was filled with quiet and either worried or emotionless voices discussing the state of the school and the Chamber of Secrets, but Lockhart still felt the need to be loud and boastful as usual. He had long, one-sided conversations with Professors Sprout and Flitwick, and when he appeared to be about to butt in on Severus's conversation with Professor Sinistra, Severus knew he'd need a Headache potion later.

Sinistra took one look at Lockhart and donned a sour look. "I think I'll go back to my tower," she said, stepping away from Severus at once. "I've grading to do—" With that, she darted past Lockhart and out the door.

He would have left the moment Lockhart started towards them as well, but he figured it would be better for him to stay in the staffroom, so he would be alerted of anything that happened more quickly than he would if he were in the dungeons. After a good twenty minutes of being subjected to the man talking about how everything would have gone much smoother if he had been allowed to take matters into his own hands in the first place, Severus's hand was twitching towards his wand—to curse Lockhart, to jab it in his eye, whichever.

"I suppose we'll just have to wait for the Mandrakes to finish growing before I can prove you all wrong, eh, Severus?" finished Lockhart with a nudge and a wink before he walked off.

For once, the man was partially correct about something. With no answers or clues whatsoever so far, all they could do was wait. Severus wondered if the Petrified victims would actually be able to tell them who the attacker and what the monster was, because it seemed likelier that Voldemort would have snuck up on them. Hopefully, they'd at east be able to provide _some_ information that would help, and Hogwarts wouldn't be closed.

Things could certainly be worse, though, and Severus was grateful that at least no one had died yet.

* * *

**I legitimately cried while writing the part about Severus's dream... It was intense. And I hope you guys cried while reading it, because that's what every author strives to do. Make her readers cry.**

**And I know it's frustrating that he hasn't told her about Lily yet, but he _will_ tell her eventually. I'm not going to say when, though... except that it might be a while.**

**Well, there should only be one or two chapters left, which means Book 2 is almost over! And I'm glad, because the Chamber of Secrets is probably the most uneventful book in the entire series. It's my least favorite.**

**Anyway, please review, and tell me what you thought!**


	27. Book 2: Chapter 13

**Sorry for the somewhat longer wait, guys. But the chapter got to being _really_ long (even longer than the finale for Book 1), so I figured that it would be easier if I split it into two chapters. That way, Book 2 still has 14 chapters, and it's easier for you guys to read it. I'll be honest, I don't like this finale better than I liked the finale for Book 1, but I doubt many of the other finales are going to top Book 1. Book 7 definitely will, though- I'm not giving anything away, but I'm just telling you that it will be epic. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"I would like to remind you all that exams start on June first, one week from today," squeaked Professor Flitwick at the beginning of their lesson the next morning. Vesperra acknowledged him vaguely, but most of the others seemed surprised.

"We're still getting exams when the school's bound to close at any moment?" said Malfoy incredulously. Next to him, Crabbe and Goyle looked to each other in mutual shock—they had clearly not studied at all, but Vesperra doubted they'd pass exams even if they had. Pansy and Tracey made a sort of high-pitched whine, and Daphne dropped her wand. From the looks of it, Theodore and Blaise had been the only others that studied, as they hadn't reacted.

Flitwick frowned. "I don't see why you're all surprised," he said. "Why else would Hogwarts have stayed open if not for your education, Mr. Malfoy? If you haven't been studying, I suggest you start!"

But Malfoy was apparently unfazed by this, because Vesperra, who sat not far behind him, heard him muttering to Crabbe and Goyle.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said confidently while he was supposed to be practicing some of the charms they had learned that year. "I'd bet you five Galleons each that another attack will happen in the next couple days, and that someone will actually _die_ instead of just getting Petrified… I _would_ hope it's Grease-perra, but I still think she's the Heir—"

Annoyed, Vesperra stopped listening and focused on practicing Charms. However, she did agree with Malfoy about one thing; it was likely that another attack would happen soon if the school wasn't closed. There were still plenty of Muggleborns in Hogwarts, and apparently Half-Bloods were in danger as well. Then again, it could have just been that the Clearwater girl was with Granger at the time… but you could never be too sure. It wasn't as if she was going to take any of it for granted anyway, because she _was_ keeping her promise to Severus to not put herself in danger.

Over the next few days, Malfoy remained unconvinced that Hogwarts would make it to see the exams take place—even though he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the school being closed.

"Why close down the school just because the Mudbloods are being Petrified?" he said the morning at breakfast a couple days later. "That's the _point_ of the Chamber, isn't it? All of the Purebloods and most of the Half-Blood are safe, so why not just let the Heir do their business and get rid of the Mudbloods…? I don't _want_ Hogwarts to be closed, but McGonagall's probably gonna make sure it is… So we might as well be happy about no exams. I bet the Heir won't ever be caught."

Malfoy laughed coldly and derisively with some of the others at Vesperra ignored them and tried to understand his logic. Well, he couldn't really rely on his Father to make sure the school stayed open, because the governors had no power over that. So he didn't _expect_ Hogwarts to stay open for too long, even though he'd prefer it to. And he wanted to have as many Muggleborns get Petrified or die before it did. _He must think that a new Headmaster will be appointed over the summer that'll reopen the school,_ Vesperra figured.

Not everyone seemed so sure as Malfoy, though. Some of the other second year Slytherins had their books out and propped up against their goblets during meals. Malfoy eventually stopped trying to tell them it was a waste of time and instead went back to questioning Vesperra about being the Heir of Slytherin.

At lunch four days before the start of exams, it seemed that Vesperra, Malfoy, and Crabbe and Goyle were the only ones not flipping through notes or muttering Transfiguration techniques under their breath. While tearing off a chunk of her sandwich with her teeth, Vesperra noticed Malfoy glance at her then look back to his cronies. She knew she was about to lose her moments of peace, and made the most of the last few seconds before—

"So, what's wrong, Grease-perra?" said Malfoy as he leaned over the table, grinning. "Lost your nerve? Afraid you'll get caught with all the security measures up now?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, she tried to discern whether he was only trying to provoke her or if he genuinely thought she was the Heir of Slytherin. She couldn't tell. But she didn't feel like arguing with him, so she scowled and kept eating her sandwich.

"Fine. Don't answer me," he said, folding his arms. "But that only makes it more obvious that _you're_ the one attacking the Mudbloods—"

"Will you _quit_ using that word, Malfoy?" hissed Vesperra once she swallowed the bite of sandwich she was chewing. Setting down the rest of it on her plate rather harshly, she glared at Malfoy with loathing. She was sick and tired of hearing that word thrown around at the Slytherin table like it was nothing.

He didn't seem to be taken aback at all, and merely frowned. "You're not fooling _me_, Grease-perra, I know you must hate them—Muggles and Muggleborns, I mean. I heard your father isn't the nicest of Muggles…" He smirked at that, and a glint of hatred flashed in Vesperra's eyes. "Besides, you're a _Parselmouth_—that's bloody rare! And we all know Potter wouldn't attack his own friend… so that leaves you. You know what, you should say something in Parseltongue. Right now. Teach us how to say something—preferably insults, so we can say them to Potter and only he'll understand…"

Smirking at his own cleverness, Malfoy raised his eyebrows as though actually expecting her to say something. When she didn't say anything, he paused a moment, then, looking completely serious, made a strange hissing noise—probably in an attempt to speak Parseltongue.

At the slightly confused look on Vesperra's face, he sighed and leaned back off the table. "I guess that didn't mean anything, then."

As Malfoy moved off the subject of her being a Parselmouth and went on to how he never believed for a second that she wasn't the Heir, some of those who were studying peeked over their books to listen and smirk at Vesperra—a couple stopped studying altogether to take a break and partake in teasing her like usual.

"I bet the only reason Grease-perra said she wasn't the Heir of Slytherin before was because she was afraid we would tell Professor Snape," said Pansy as she shut her book, grinning madly. "And she simply couldn't _bear _to have _him_ angry with her…"

"Then I wonder how it was for her when he actually gave her _detention_," Tracey added, smirking.

"Hell, I bet," Malfoy said. "But now that I think about it, she might have told him some of the details about the Chamber just to get back on his good side. Oh, but not too much—then he'd suspect her… And that would just ruin your chances with him, wouldn't it?" He turned to Vesperra, his eyes alight with the cruel fun he was having.

Vesperra wished she could just get up and leave so she wouldn't have to put up with them, but with the school in danger, none of the students were allowed to leave the Great Hall on their own. She would have to wait until the bell signaling the start of afternoon classes rang, and even then she wouldn't be free of them.

"You know, Malfoy…" she said slowly, forcing herself to stay calm. "Fine. Say I _am_ the Heir of Slytherin, and I decide to stop the attacks for good." He frowned, and she leaned over the table dramatically as he had just done. "_Shouldn't you be studying?_"

At first, he gave her a look as though to say that he didn't believe she would stop the attacks, but then it faltered, and he looked down, appearing concerned. It could have been that he was either realizing that he shouldn't put it past her to stop the attacks just to make sure he failed exams—especially with the supposed evidence that she was afraid she'd get caught, or doubting that she was even the Heir of Slytherin. So for Vesperra, it was a win-win situation.

Mouthing the word, "Damn," Malfoy furrowed his brow and bent down to open his schoolbag, which was under the table, and pull out _A History of Magic_. He immediately opened it and started flipping pages while Crabbe and Goyle stared at him stupidly.

"Just… just in case," he muttered after glancing at them. And Vesperra could have sworn she heard him say very quietly to himself, "Father will _kill_ me if I have bad marks…"

With that, Vesperra smirked and felt reassured that Malfoy would be leaving her alone the next few days until exams. She was confident she had studied enough that she didn't need to do so every minute of the day, so she never had her books out during meals… The only thing she hadn't studied for was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that was for one simple reason: The point of exams was to show how much you had learned that year, and she had learned absolutely nothing from Lockhart. His exam would probably only include questions that showed how self-obsessed he was…

Not only was Vesperra glad that Malfoy was now too busy to antagonize her, but she was anxious for lessons and dinner to be over with so she could be completely alone in her dorm. It was because of what Malfoy had said, actually—even though he had been mocking her (whether he was serious or not, she wasn't sure), him asking her to say something in Parseltongue got her curious…

She had only ever spoken Parseltongue when speaking directly to a snake, but she figured that was only because she had never tried before. As a small child, she hadn't even known that it was a strange thing to be able to speak to snakes. All she had known was that snakes came to her for some reason, and that she had grown to learn what they were saying. Her mother eventually told her what she was, and Vesperra remembered seeing that it frightened her a bit.

But now, she wanted to further test her Parselmouth abilities. She wanted to see if she could speak Parseltongue whenever she wanted—and she didn't see why she wouldn't be able to. So after everyone filed out of the Great Hall and went to their Common Rooms, Vesperra went straight to her dorm as she usually did. And then she realized that she didn't really know how to go about doing this.

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she thought. After a minute, she figured that she might just have to speak and focus on it being Parseltongue. She accepted that it might take a minute and, in her mind, willed her words to come out as the hissing of Parseltongue, and thought she'd start with something simple.

"Hello," she said to no one in particular. But it didn't feel like Parseltongue—it felt normal. Even though it always sounded like she was speaking English when she had talked to snakes in the past, there was still that vague feeling that she was actually hissing. She never consciously sensed that before, but she could recognize its absence. Perhaps she wasn't trying hard enough… Maybe she had to think of what she wanted to say, and then hiss, and the proper noise would come out involuntarily.

Once again, Vesperra focused very hard on hissing rather than English, but at the same time tried to say what she was thinking.

"Hello," she said again, still feeling the absence of a hiss in her speech. Normally, she'd say that all she needed was practice, but Parseltongue didn't seem like the sort of thing you had to practice. It felt like it should have come naturally, like it should have been easier… and she was frustrated. Whenever she spoke directly to snakes, she didn't even have to try… _Wait—that's it._

Vesperra then tried to imagine a snake in her mind very clearly, believing it would be much easier if she thought she was speaking to a snake. Even though there wouldn't be anything to show for speaking Parseltongue, she wanted to see whether she could do it—she had already given herself the challenge, and she wasn't going to give up.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the snake in her mind, trying to convince herself it was really there. When she felt that she had done so, she said, "Hello."

But it didn't come out as "Hello."—She heard herself make a deep hissing noise, and then smiled, proud of herself. While she reveled in the strange sense of power speaking Parseltongue gave her, she heard something else—something that made her draw breath very sharply.

"_Hello…_"

It was the same voice she had heard three times before… Though it was slightly less creepy because it wasn't saying "kill, rip, tear…" But it was chilling to the bone and made her heart stop. She'd have been worried that another attack was about to happen if the disembodied voice hadn't spoken back to her… in _Parseltongue_. Whatever was speaking to her knew Parseltongue. Her mind whirred around as she came to a realization, and she slowly stood and walked to the wall nearest to her, pressing her ear up to the cold stone. She knew whatever was speaking to her must be inside the walls… and she decided that she would speak back.

It wasn't difficult this time, because she was speaking directly to the voice. "Who are you?" she said tentatively, though trying to sound confident. But it was a bit hard to sound confident when your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

"_I am… the King of Serpentssss… the King of Snakessss… the most fearsome... and powerful… need blood…"_

Ignoring that last part, Vesperra practically jumped as she remembered hearing about that before—on her first morning back from Hogwarts last summer, after her parents had gotten into a fight over her using magic to cook eggs, a grass snake had come to her. It had told her that the 'King of Serpents' resided at Hogwarts. Breathing heavily now, she tried to remember the whole conversation, and could recall the snake telling her that the King of Serpents was the largest and most powerful snake… and that it had lived in the castle for centuries.

Of course! How had she not thought of this sooner? If only she had remembered that conversation earlier in the year… But it was unlikely, seeing as she didn't even realize it was relevant until now.

"Do you live in the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked anxiously, just to make sure.

"_Yessss…_"

"And—and who's controlling you?" Vesperra couldn't control her sudden excitement, as she believed she was about to get the answers that she and Severus had been deprived of all year.

"_The Heir…_"

Well, that was specific… She frowned and pressed, "But _who_?"

There was no answer. Vesperra waited several seconds, and nothing. The King of Serpents had left, and she was sure of it—a certain chill had left the air, and she could sense its absence just as she had sensed the absence of the hiss in her voice earlier. Removing her ear from the wall, she went and laid on her bed, stomach and face facing the ceiling.

Though there were still a lot of things she didn't know, Vesperra felt like a large weight had been lifted. She now knew that Slytherin's monster must be a giant snake… Come to think of it, that seemed almost obvious. But she also knew that the reason only she could hear it was because she was a Parselmouth—then she inhaled sharply—That meant that Potter must have been able to hear it as well.

Considering what Potter and his friends were like, Vesperra figured they might already know this. In fact, they'd probably done a lot of snooping around… But if she and Severus hadn't figured it out yet, how could _they_ possibly have? Their attempted involvement in things that didn't concern them would have failed, and they wouldn't have been able to do anything for weeks with teachers patrolling every corner of the castle…

Vesperra tried to forget Potter and her anger and just focus on the task at hand. She had just discovered that Slytherin's monster was the King of Serpents, but she didn't know exactly what the King of Serpents _was_. It had to have a shorter name, but she had never heard of or read about such a creature. Desperate, she started going over everything she knew in her head.

_It's a giant snake, and it's trying to kill people, but for some reason it can't and ends up Petrifying them instead… But if it's a huge snake, how has no one seen it around the school? And _why_ can't it kill anyone? How is it even Petrifying people? Ugh… Well. roosters have something to do with it, and that could be for an infinite number of reasons… And it's apparently famous to all other snakes, and has lived for centuries—wait, it must be a Dark creature, so Severus ought to know about it._

Severus had to know about it. Vesperra figured she might find something about it in the library as well, but it was after six o'clock and no one was allowed to leave their dorms. But he would be busy patrolling at the time—she remembered that he had the evening shift on Thursdays. As important as this was, it would have to wait until he was finished with his shift and went back to his office so he could talk to her through the journals. Besides, the Mandrakes would be fully grown within days and the victims would be waking up very soon, and they'd probably be able to say what the monster or who the attacker was anyway.

This irked her all of a sudden, because it seemed a waste that she would find this out a day or two before the whole school found out anyway. Still, she felt proud that she had found out anything, because getting even the smallest of answers after not having any for the entire school year was extremely gratifying. It all depended on Severus at the moment, and the likelihood that he knew what the King of Serpents was… And he would be proud of her as well… Vesperra's chest swelled at the thought as she smiled to herself. Answers and explanations were long overdue, and she was glad they finally seemed to be starting.

* * *

Lockhart was at his absolute worst that night. Severus could tell by the rest of the staff's faces that they all wanted to curse him very badly. But, as usual, they ignored him and went on with their business.

There was a strange sense of dread in the air that Severus wasn't sure whether anyone but him could feel. Nothing threatening or even the least bit suspicious had happened in weeks, and yet he felt uncomfortable… like something was about to happen. So he agreed to take a double shift on patrolling that night, both to quell his sudden unexplainable dread with the feeling that he was doing something about it and to stay away from Lockhart.

The night was long, and afterward, when he returned to his chambers, he went straight to grading homework. When he was done, he automatically reached for his journal inside his robes, but he didn't really feel up to talking to Vesperra at the moment. It had been a long day and he was tired… Surely she'd understand. Slowly removing his robes in his half-conscious state, Severus didn't even bother putting on a nightshirt and just lay down in his bed, deciding that he'd apologize to Vesperra tomorrow as he quickly fell asleep.

* * *

Vesperra took the time she had before she expected Severus to write her a message to study, but half of her mind was on the Chamber and the King of Serpents all the while. However, even after Millicent left the Common Room (which was packed nowadays, since there was nowhere else to go) and went to sleep, the silver _S_ on the latch of her journal didn't glow red at all.

She feared for a moment that he had gotten into some kind of trouble, but then she decided not to jump to conclusions and that he was probably just busy. So she stayed up, waiting, but there was still nothing. Feeling largely disappointed and almost hurt that he hadn't talked to her despite the fact that he might have very good reasons, she put her books away and went to sleep. But just in case, she held her journal close to her chest so it would wake her up if he decided to talk to her.

The next morning, Vesperra awoke as usual, and it took a second to remember everything that had happened the day before. She knew she'd still have to wait to talk to Severus, but she was impatient. At breakfast, the usual awkward conversations in the Great Hall and grim pauses had been interrupted when Professor McGonagall stood up from the Headmaster's chair (which was temporarily hers) and hit her goblet of pumpkin juice with a spoon to get everyone's attention. Vesperra's heart suddenly stopped, as she immediately feared the worst (so did Malfoy, so he was grinning), but when she looked to the Staff Table, McGonagall was smiling.

"I have good news," she said, triggering raucous excitement rather than anxious silence among the students. There were many loud gasps as people turned to each other and started cheering amongst themselves already. Above the main noise of the crowd, certain yells could be heard.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" yelled several people. Vesperra did as well, but only in her mind. Her heart was pounding furiously, as she desperately wished that this was all over. Just for the sake of it, she turned to look at Malfoy, whose grin had dropped almost comically. He frowned along with many of the other Slytherins—the Slytherin table seemed to be the quietest.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared a sixth year boy from the Gryffindor table. Vesperra recognized him as the Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but didn't remember his name.

It took a minute, but when the noise had subsided and everyone calmed down, McGonagall cleared her throat again. "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting last night," she said. "Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

Once again, the Great Hall erupted with cheering in all but the Slytherin table, whose inhabitants merely clapped mildly and reluctantly if at all. The few that actually _were_ glad about the victims being cured and the mystery being solved hid their excitement for fear of being persecuted by the rest of the Slytherins.

Vesperra smirked, though she was smiling widely and cheering on the inside. She looked to Severus, who was clapping with the rest of the staff. He glanced back at her after a few seconds and they shared a look of relief. As she turned to look at Malfoy again, she saw that he was scowling and had his arms folded on the table.

"I hope you've studied hard, Malfoy," she said just loud enough that he'd be able to hear her over the cheering. "Oh wait—no I don't."

Normally she wouldn't have provoked him like that, as she always kept to herself and hardly ever even spoke back to them when they taunted her, but she was in a good mood and was _not_ going to pass up a chance like that. She never really had much of a chance to make fun of him, seeing as he never did anything worth making fun of. And if he hadn't antagonized her first and made an enemy out of her first, she wouldn't have a reason to make fun of him. But oh, how he _deserved_ to be made fun of, and worse…

Malfoy was the type to get revenge even for the simplest of things, and Vesperra had learned that through experience, but she wasn't worried. He wouldn't be able to do anything with them being led to each class by a teacher or prefect… Besides, she wasn't even thinking about Malfoy, anyway. For the remainder of the morning and while she and the other second year Slytherins were being led to their second morning lesson by Professor Sprout, Vesperra had her mind on the Chamber of Secrets. As relieved and happy as she was that the Mandrakes were ready and that the victims would be revived, she was wholly disappointed that her discovery about the King of Serpents wouldn't have even mattered. But among that disappointment was a certain dread that she couldn't put her finger on.

It didn't feel like everything would be okay—something was off. Vesperra felt like something was going to happen, and she felt like she should find out about Slytherin's monster as soon as she could, just in case none of the victims were able to say what or who attacked them. Even if they were, she had a strong feeling that it would be best to know anything that they could as soon as possible, and it _would _make a difference even if only hours earlier. What if Voldemort made the most of the last few hours before his secrets were discovered and actually _killed_ a Muggleborn—or several? The lives of her fellow students didn't necessarily matter to her, but Dumbledore wanted Severus to protect Hogwarts as well as he could, and Vesperra strove to help Severus, so she felt a strong loyalty to Hogwarts and its safety by default.

The only problem was, she had nothing to go on. She needed _books_. She couldn't tell any of the teachers but Severus—partly because she'd have to explain how she knew what she knew, and that could lead to a number of problems, and partly because she had too much pride to want help. Since she was basing the fact that she needed to find information on what-ifs and just-in-cases, then it wasn't as urgent that she actually get the information at all. Either way, she doubted Professor Sprout would know anything.

There couldn't be _nothing_… there was never just nothing at Hogwarts. There was always something that could be done—if you knew what you wanted to be done, of course. And she just needed a way to research. The library never failed her—until now, since no one could get in. But… there was another way, and she mentally smacked herself for not having thought of it yet. _The Room of Requirement._

Back in her first year when she and Severus had been trying to stop Quirrell (well, Severus was, but she provided theories and a bit of information and whatnot), she had discovered important things in the Room of Requirement. Albeit, it led to theories that were completely wrong (okay, not entirely, but only if you though thought about it in a very vague sense), but all she had had to do was think that she needed a book on Dark uses for creatures and they had appeared. The Room of Requirement, if used for that purpose, must be like the Ultimate Library. As long as you worded it correctly, it would give you books on any topic you wanted… even books that you would normally find in the Restricted Section. Possibly even books so horrible that they shouldn't be in the school at all.

But the only problem was getting there… The Room of Requirement was on the seventh floor, and she was currently on the third, and only minutes away from her next class. Unless she was to wait until the next passing period, Vesperra had approximately five minutes to come up with a plan.

She automatically let herself fall to the back of the line, knowing that she wouldn't be able to slip away at all unless she was at the back. That completed phase one, and phase two was actually coming up with something. Thinking hard about her options, she decided that there must be a staircase nearby or something… And then she saw it not too far ahead—a corridor that most students passed every other day, but less than half the students at Hogwarts knew about the door hidden in the tapestry right on the edge of that corridor. Vesperra had used it a few times, and it was sometimes a shortcut to the end of the main fourth floor corridor, and other times it led to the other end of the corridor it was in.

The second year Slytherins were about to pass it, and there were no other groups of students nearby at the moment, so Vesperra slid very close to the wall and prepared herself to slink away so that no one would notice she was gone. She knew it wouldn't matter that she missed class, since no one would miss her. When everyone passed the corridor, she slipped around the corner and thanked God there was no one patrolling in there. But there would likely be a prefect or ghost passing within a minute, so she immediately went for the door hidden in the tapestry and hoped it ended up going where she wanted it to.

Vesperra had closed her eyes, dreading to open them a second later in case she had only gone down the corridor. Even if she had, she supposed she could run back down and try her luck with the hidden door again, but she'd prefer that she didn't have to. When she opened them, she found herself in a completely different corridor, and it was empty. Right next to her was an archway that led to several flights of stairs, some of them moving and barely missing each other as they swerved around. _Perfect._

Just as she stepped onto the staircase that had just stopped to meet with the seventh floor corridor, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and instinctively dropped to her stomach so she could hide behind the railings. Refusing to let out a groan of pain as the wind was knocked out of her, she carefully looked to the side at an angle and saw a Hufflepuff prefect, evidently patrolling, making his way down the stairs from the fifth floor to the third.

Holding her breath and sinking as low as possible on the stairs, she anxiously watched the prefect walk down, apparently not noticing anything suspicious. But then he paused, and Vesperra panicked—he tilted his head back and sneezed into his hand. She was relieved when he wiped his hand on his robes and kept walking. As soon as she was sure he was in the third floor and wouldn't turn back, she scrambled up the stairs, which had already started turning, and tried not to fall or make too much noise as she did.

Finally, she made it to the seventh floor, where it didn't seem that anyone was patrolling, either. Only Divination and Arithmancy classes should have been going on in this floor at the moment, and all the other attacks had taken place in the lower half of the castle, so it would make sense why McGonagall didn't feel like security should be heavy here. Nonetheless, Vesperra hurried along the corridor until she found the familiar stretch of wall that she hadn't seen for months.

First looking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she quickly walked past the wall, thinking of what she desperately needed. _I need books… about snakes—anything related to snakes…_ And on her third walk past a door appeared, which she opened immediately.

It was a small room—not unlike a sitting room, but the walls were lined with shelves. There was an armchair in the middle, and in the corners stood statues of snakes carved out of stone, with emeralds for eyes that glinted in the torchlight almost as if they were alive. Serious though the situation was, Vesperra couldn't help but admire the room. If at all possible, she'd definitely be spending more time in here. Maybe next year.

Unlike last year, when she had been reading to find out something Dark about unicorns, she couldn't let her fascination get the better of her. She had to read only what was necessary, and then tell Severus as soon as possible. So Vesperra walked along the edges of the room, her eyes flitting across the bindings of the books, reading the titles.

There were quite a few on how snakes were beneficial in Potions, like _Scales and Venom: Poisons and Pranks_, and Vesperra simply skipped that section and went to one of the other walls. Her eyes rested on _Parseltongue, Silvertongue_ for a second longer than they should have, but she resisted the urge to read it, not feeling that anything in there would be relevant.

One of the thicker books caught her eye, called _Notable Snakes and Serpents of the Wizarding World_. She grabbed it at once and, without even caring to sit in the chair that the Room had provided her, starting flipping through it frantically, stopping at each chapter and skimming through the first few pages, carefully watching for the words, 'King of Serpents.' Her belief that she would surely find the answer didn't fade as she made it past the middle of the book, as she was sure the _King of Serpents_ would show up in a book like this.

At last, she came upon a new chapter, and knew it was what she was looking for. She had found it.

* * *

With the Mandrakes ready, Severus was immensely relieved. Perhaps that ominous feeling _had_ just been paranoia, because they were likely to get answers that night. Unless… What would Voldemort do, now that his reign of terror was about to come to an end? Surely he knew that his victims were about to wake up…

The Dark Lord has always been very arrogant, self-confident, and felt self-assured that no one was more powerful than him and that anytime someone had evaded him, it was someone else's fault or that that was just a fluke.. He wouldn't have expected to fail in killing the Muggleborns and only succeed in Petrifying them, so he probably wouldn't have taken precaution in making sure the students didn't see him or the monster before they were attacked. But now that the students would soon wake up and possibly give away his secret, would Voldemort try to do anything about it? Would he even be _able _to do anything about it? Would he attack anyone else in the course of the day?

_That_ would have been virtually impossible unless anyone was wandering around on their own, and he couldn't finish off the Petrified victims either, because the Hospital Wing was barred. So that left nothing for him to do. It seemed that finally, Voldemort was the one that was screwed over. But still, Severus couldn't shake the bad feeling he had, whether it was real or just irrational paranoia.

Severus wanted to begin working on the Mandrake Restorative Draught immediately, which would have allowed the Petrified students (and Mrs. Norris) to be revived several hours sooner than if he started later, but McGonagall wanted him to teach his classes as usual and begin afterwards. As much of an ordeal the entire Chamber of Secrets situation had been on her, she wanted to strictly follow Dumbledore's instructions to keep the school running normally as possible—which included everyone getting their education, and no one missing classes. He would have argued, but McGonagall was the Headmistress and had never been easily swayed from her decisions. It would be useless to argue, as stupid as he thought her decision was.

The Mandrakes sat in his office, still potted, as he taught his Advanced Potions class for sixth years. He noticed a certain change in the air of the room—though he still had that ominous feeling and it was the dungeons, everyone else seemed thoroughly relieved. Except for the few Slytherins in that class, that is. They were considerably less tense, and didn't quickly suppress every smile they felt coming on. Severus couldn't help but wonder exactly how Vesperra was feeling at the moment. And he wondered whether she, being one of the few Slytherins that didn't want the Chamber open, was being hated even worse by Malfoy and the others.

But as for how she was feeling, he was almost sure that they were one in the same—both in their relief and that they both felt something bad was going to happen.

When the hour was nearly up, Severus was eager for the bell signaling break to ring—but it didn't. What he heard next confirmed that he was not merely paranoid; something very bad _would_ happen—_did_ happen.

* * *

Vesperra's eyes flashed anxiously across the page, not breathing until she finished reading all that she needed. The chapter was titled, _The Basilisk_.

_Known as the King of Serpents among other snakes and Parselmouths, the Basilisk is considered the deadliest of all beasts. It is born from a chicken's egg hatched under a toad, the method having been discovered through experimentation by Herpo the Foul. Attempting to breed a Basilisk has been made illegal since medieval times, and is not advisable, as they are only controllable by Parselmouths._

_A Basilisk may reach up to fifty feet in length and live several hundred years, if the food source is sufficient. They will eat all mammals and birds, and most reptiles. It is the one true enemy of the spider, all species of which can sense its presence and will flee if they do._

_A Basilisk's fangs hold venom so deadly that it would kill any human within a minute and destroy anything it pierces beyond magical repair. The only known cure for it is Phoenix tears. Another deadly attribute is its murderous stare; any who look the Basilisk straight in the eye for even the briefest of moments will die instantly. Though it cannot be proven without speaking to the ghost of a Basilisk victim, it has been guessed that said death would be painless._

_The only weakness of the Basilisk is a rooster, whose presence it can sense and will flee from. A rooster's crow is fatal to it and by far the easiest method of killing one. Otherwise, it could be killed by its own venom or the Killing Curse. However, the odds are extremely against anyone close enough to a Basilisk that they were able to aim a curse at it._

Before Vesperra could read any further (not that she needed to), she was harshly tugged back into reality. Her head snapped up as Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified, echoed through the corridors and penetrated the Room of Requirement's walls.

"_All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please_."

Vesperra involuntarily had a sharp intake of breath, and closed her book. There must have been another attack… Had someone been killed this time? And if Professor Sprout noticed she was missing… _What if this is happening because they think I've been attacked? Damn… damn, damn, damn._

Panicking and suddenly hating herself for not realizing that this might happen, she sprinted for the door. She opened it slowly, however, to see whether there was anyone heading her way. No one was, so she didn't hesitate in leaving the Room of Requirement, still holding the book. As she did, her fear of being punished for causing a false alarm like this disappeared, since she was starting to believe that this had nothing to do with her. If Malfoy or anyone else noticed her absence, they would have likely assumed that she had left to go open the Chamber again, and thus wouldn't say anything. Even if they didn't, they'd still enjoy her absence and still not say anything. Vesperra doubted Professor Sprout would notice, either, as she hardly ever spoke up in class—especially not Herbology.

And if this had been about her, then it would have made much more sense for McGonagall to announce something like, "_If Vesperra D'Monicas is currently alive and in the castle, would she please come to the staffroom_." They wouldn't automatically act as though they were sure she was dead.

It had to be something else. Vesperra knew she had to get to the dormitories, but she had half a mind to go to the staffroom and tell the teachers what she knew. But she would be outright admitting that she had taken a lot of interest in the Chamber, actually spoken to the Monster, known exactly who the Heir was when none of the students were supposed to, and snuck away while being led to class. _And_ she'd have to tell them about the Room of Requirement. Though it was unlikely she'd be punished for breaking rules when she had a crucial piece of information for them, she couldn't let the other teachers know about her and Severus's relationship (which would definitely come up if she mentioned knowing Voldemort was the Heir) or about the Room. Those were two secrets that she planned to keep between her and Severus no matter what.

There was such a bustle in the corridors that Vesperra was concealed by the crowd, much of which were Gryffindor students heading to their Common Room. And luckily, no one took any notice of her. It was, however, difficult to move quickly in the throng of students.

She briskly walked down to the dungeons, fully aware of what the rest of Slytherin House would think when she returned much later than everyone else. But that didn't matter, because she had to find out what had happened and tell Severus what Slytherin's monster was. What she thought was weird, though, was that McGonagall hadn't told the other teachers to escort their students to their Common Rooms. Perhaps she felt that would have been too complicated, seeing as there would be several teachers that would have to make trips to more than one Common Room entrance… Or perhaps McGonagall believed no one was in danger at the moment.

That was peculiar, but Vesperra wasn't fearing for her life at all, even when she walked down the stairs and through some very empty corridors. For if the Basilisk was anywhere near, she knew she'd have heard it. And she didn't hear anything. Besides, she'd be able to control it as well.

* * *

_Merlin, no… I knew this would happen… _Severus was stone-faced upon hearing McGonagall's announcement. His sixth year students all bore similar expressions—ones of shock and dread as they turned to each other and then back to him. Just as McGonagall had told the teachers to do, he immediately made for the door so he could go to the staffroom. His students, however, were still, and he scowled at them.

"You all heard Professor McGonagall," he snapped. "Get to your dormitories!"

At once, they all obliged, and there was a scrambling to exit the Potions classroom. Severus hurried out of there as well, sure that no one would be in danger with the corridors so crowded and everyone moving in packs. One of the first to arrive in the staffroom, he picked a random spot and stood, his arms folded behind his back and his heart trying to decide whether to beat extremely fast or not at all.

He waited while the rest of the staff filed in, dreading, yet desperate to find out what was going on. Some of the other teachers kept just as hard, emotionless a face as he did, but most of them looked either afraid or confused. That wasn't to say that Severus wasn't both scared and confused as well, though—he was very. But he would never show his fear unless something unimaginably horrible happened, and not only because he was a skilled Occlumens and hated for anyone to know was he was feeling. He felt that it was only professional to at least _appear_ calm, and not fearful like the students were.

Though no one spoke to each other while waiting, the room seemed to have become much more silent when McGonagall arrived, her lips thinner than ever as she looked as though she were struggling in her attempt not to tremble. Everyone's eyes were on her, and she glanced at the floor and took a breath before speaking.

"It has happened," she said. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself." She retained her calm in all but her eyes as the rest of the staff reacted.

On the other side of the room, Flitwick let out a squeal, Sprout and several other teachers clapped their hands over their mouths, some merely let their jaw drop, and others stayed silent, clearly hiding what they felt. Severus, however, had broken almost completely on the inside, and couldn't keep his expression entirely still.

It had been Vesperra, he knew it, he just _knew_ it… Vesperra had known something about the Chamber, just like in his nightmare… And now, because he couldn't let her live, Voldemort must have gotten his monster to take her down into the Chamber, so he can interrogate her in Parseltongue… _and then kill her…_

Severus's throat clenched uncontrollably, burning and not allowing him to breathe. His eyes widened slightly as his jaw snapped shut so as to not let out any slight whimper and his previously inexpressive lips twitched downward, but not into an attempted scowl—had he not cared whether his colleagues saw that side of him, his face would have contorted into an extremely distraught expression. But he forced himself not to jump to conclusions, however likely they were, and gripped the back of a chair so hard that it hurt his hand.

"How can you be sure?" asked Severus, using all of his strength to keep his voice steady and not to let any movements of his face or body give away that he had suddenly become several times more afraid than he had been only seconds earlier.

McGonagall had gone very white, presumably in her own attempts not to appear very afraid. But to be fearless at this time would be foolish. "The Heir of Slytherin left another message," she said somewhat breathily. "Right underneath the first one. '_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_.'"

Severus tried to swallow, but couldn't. The rest of the teachers looked grimmer, yet sadder than before, and Flitwick actually burst into tears. Madam Hooch sunk, weak-kneed, into the chair whose back Severus was gripping, which was exactly what he felt like doing at the very least.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, stealing the words right out of Severus's mouth. He was actually glad that she had asked before he could, because he wasn't sure he could do it when he was so sure of the answer… "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said McGonagall.

All at once, Severus's throat was clear, he could breathe easily, and his heart started beating again. He felt like smiling in relief, but that would be inappropriate considering the situation. Not that he didn't care whether any of the other students died, but he had been so sure it was Vesperra—it certainly would have made more sense… And to hear that it wasn't, in fact, her… It was relief comparable to what he felt after waking up several weeks ago to find that her death had only been a nightmare. As long as the victim wasn't Vesperra or Potter, he wasn't half as worried as he would be. He was, however, still afraid for the fate of the school, and what Voldemort was to do now…

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," McGonagall continued sadly. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"

Then the staffroom door banged open, and in strode Lockhart, absolutely beaming. Severus knew someone had been missing…

"So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?" said Lockhart, apparently not realizing that every single one of the other staff members were looking at him with unfathomable annoyance if not hatred.

Suddenly, Severus had an idea—a surprisingly evil idea given the circumstances. But it was Lockhart, so…

Stepping forward, he said, "Just the man. The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last." Severus very nearly smirked, feeling a cold satisfaction as Lockhart blanched.

If they had been confused before, the rest of the staff then caught on.

"That's right, Gilderoy," Professor Sprout chipped it, stepping forward as well. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I—well, I—" Lockhart sputtered, losing the foolishly confident air he usually had about him.

"Yes," piped up Flitwick, "didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?"

"D-did I? I don't recall—"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Severus, his black eyes glinting. He was enjoying this more than he should have. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Looking around at his colleagues who would like nothing more than to throttle him, Lockhart hesitated and said, "I—I really never—you may have misunderstood—"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said McGonagall to round it all up. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart looked around desperately again, probably for someone to come to his rescue, but no one moved. Not that Severus would have ever considered the man attractive (and he was sure Vesperra wouldn't think so either), he noticed that he no longer even looked childishly handsome—he looked pathetic. His lip was trembling, and he looked weak-chinned and feeble without his usual toothy grin.

In spite of the circumstances, Severus felt triumphant in seeing Lockhart like this… _finally._

"V-very well," said Lockhart. "I'll—I'll be in my office, getting—getting ready." Not a second later, he left the room. In any other situation, Severus would have scoffed and made a snarky remark about how Lockhart would more likely be filing his resignation at the moment. But this was serious.

"Right," said McGonagall, her nostrils flared, "that's got _him_ out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

One by one, the staff members left, Severus being one of the first. As he passed McGonagall, he noticed her chest heaving and her face fall, apparently not caring to put on a mask of confidence anymore. No one seemed to have any confidence anymore. Hogwarts was going to be closed and never reopened… For many, that was like seeing your house burn down before your eyes. For him and Vesperra especially, Hogwarts had been their first real home. It couldn't be the end of it all, it just _couldn't…_

Surely McGonagall would contact the school governors, and then Dumbledore as well… If Dumbledore came back, Hogwarts might stand a chance. Otherwise, there was still nothing to go on. The victims would be cured tonight, but what did it matter? Voldemort had done what Severus expected and killed a student. There was no choice but to close the school, since he and Vesperra were nowhere closer to finding out where the Chamber was, and it was highly doubtful they ever would. No one but Voldemort had ever found it.

As he walked along the corridors, through the Entrance Hall, and down to the dungeons, he wondered what would become of him and Vesperra. With Hogwarts gone, he would no longer be a teacher and would no longer have any room to protect Potter. The boy would be safe at his aunt's house—though Severus had always hated Petunia, the stereotypical Muggle, magic-hating, ignorant sister of Lily, he hardly cared that Potter was forced to live with her and likely be persecuted simply for being a wizard. Besides, he'd be safer, because apparently Hogwarts wasn't anymore.

But Vesperra would have to go home to her awful parents… Would her mother home-school her? Or possibly send her to Durmstrang? Severus would have gladly taught her everything he knew (save the Darker curses). She would _have_ to visit him as much as possible, because he refused to put up with not seeing her for so long. Perhaps he could gain custody of her and be her legal guardian. He'd feel much better about himself if he was able to just keep her away from the people so unfit and undeserving to be parents…

And since she'd be leaving first thing tomorrow, he wouldn't even have a chance to say goodbye to her in person… This upset him enough that his shoulders immediately dropped and his hardened expression became considerably softer. But he was nearly to the wall concealing the Common Room door, so he pulled his shoulders up and gathered himself.

Severus stepped up to the wall and, before saying the password, tried to think of a way he could ask for Vesperra and a reason that would make sense. But then he heard running footsteps behind him, and turned around to see that he didn't have to.

* * *

The corridors soon seemed to be completely deserted, and Vesperra was probably the only student not in their dormitory yet. Cursing under her breath, she tried to hurry and get to the stairs, but suddenly something fell, narrowly missing her head and hitting the floor with a _clang_. She stopped in her tracks, and looked down to see an empty tea kettle at her feet. And when she looked up, she saw Peeves, the school Poltergeist, zooming around near the ceiling.

"Oh Greasy, you sneaky!" cackled Peeves, flying down closer to the ground. "Alone in the corridors, causing trouble?"

"I don't have time for this, Peeves!" said Vesperra angrily, trying to continue on through the corridor. But then he zoomed lower and flew in circles around her so she became too dizzy to move.

"Why not, Greasy? Gone to hide? Got something to hide?" he said once he stopped flying around her. "THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN! I'VE CAUGHT THE—"

"_Peeves, shut up_!" Vesperra hissed. She panicked again, but then realized that all of the teachers would be in the staffroom and more than likely wouldn't hear him at all. Still, she needed him out of her hair so she could get down to her dorm as quickly as possible. "The Baron wouldn't be very happy with you right now," she said as the idea came to her.

Peeves stopped at once, and there was a bit of nervousness on his slightly transparent face. It disappeared as he said in a sing-song voice, "But he's not here right now—"

"Getting him here won't be a problem," Vesperra said. "He'll listen to me—he's rather taken a liking to me. He'd come to my aid if I needed it. Why, he could be right behind you at this moment, invisible—"

That did it. Peeves, looking scared, sunk into the floor without another word. Congratulating herself on her own brilliance, Vesperra walked briskly down the corridors and stairs. She didn't even want to think about what would happen when if she was caught by any teachers, but they were all in the staffroom. When she made it down the dungeon staircase, she started running to get to the Common Room.

After wounding her way through the labyrinthine passages, Vesperra finally turned the corner that led straight to the hidden Common Room entrance. Someone was already standing there, facing the stretch of damp, stone wall. It took no more than a second to realize who it was—she'd recognize that long, black hair anywhere. As she jogged up to him, he swiveled around on one foot and looked surprised.

* * *

**Okay, so this normally wouldn't be a good place to stop for a chapter, but it's just because I split the last chapter in half. **

**But anyway, I just want to say this to _Blue-Bird-11_: Get out of my head! Lol KIDDING, but siriusly, you are _psychic_. You posted that review about Severus thinking it would be Vesperra less than an hour after I wrote that part. I had actually planned for that to happen since before I started writing Book 2, but still. Wierd. **

**Also, I'm really glad that I finally got to write in Peeves, and that Vesperra got to be mean to Draco. Aaaaand this A/N is getting too long for a split chapter, so I'll just leave to to read the second half! ^_^**


	28. Book 2: Chapter 14

**Second half! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Severus!" Vesperra said, out of breath as she came to a stop in front of him.

"Vesperra, wha—?" Severus hadn't expected this in the least bit. He was even more surprised that she looked somewhat happy. So many questions circled his mind… "Why aren't you in your dorm? Where have you been?"

"The Room of Requirement," she said bluntly, still trying to catch her breath. She was so anxious to tell him everything that she completely ignored the fact that Severus might be angry with her.

"What—how—?"

"_Severus,_ I know what Slytherin's monster is!" said Vesperra with an urgent yet excited tone. "It's a Basilisk!"

The fear he had felt from her having must been wandering the corridors alone to get to the Room and back disappeared, and was replaced with excitement and relief at this new information as well as confusion.

He frowned. "How did you—?"

"_This_." Vesperra held up the book she was holding. "I couldn't go in the library, so I went to the Room of Requirement. It's a long story—I would have been able to tell you last night, but…"

Realizing that it was his fault that all this couldn't have been figured out before the Weasley girl was taken, he felt bad. "But I wasn't awake to talk to you, I'm sorry…" And then, hardly thinking about it first, he placed his hand in between her shoulder blades almost roughly and steered her away from the Common Room and towards his office.

"You can tell me everything once I return, and then I'll tell _you_ everything," he said as they walked. "But I have to go tell the rest of the Slytherins was has happened." She nodded, and allowed him to lead her to his office. He let her inside, said "I won't be long," and then closed the door.

Severus went back to the blank stretch of wall and gave it the password, then opened the door that appeared immediately. After he informed the silent room what had happened, many of the Slytherins looked much more worried than they had been the last time he had to come in here to make an announcement.

"I suggest you all start packing your things," he said before leaving.

Vesperra sat on his couch and waited anxiously, but Severus was true to his word and didn't take long. When he came back and sat with her, she launched right into an explanation of how she had gotten curious about her Parselmouth abilities, talked to Slytherin's monster and remembered what a grass snake had told her over the summer, and then thought of the Room of Requirement on her way to Herbology this morning. That's where he interrupted.

"But how did you get to the Room of Requirement without anyone noticing?" he asked.

"_That_, Severus," she began somewhat proudly, "was a mixture of resources and sheer luck… But I knew no one would miss me even if they had realized I wasn't there. I was nearly caught by a prefect, actually…"

"And you broke school rules, risking punishment just so you could get this information?"

"Well, I had to! I knew something was off… and I was right, wasn't I?"

Yes, she _was_ right… But Severus quickly realized punishment hadn't been the only thing she had risked. In his shock and relief that Vesperra had actually gotten information, he had forgotten about that…

"You put yourself in danger," said Severus in a quiet tone that was neither angry nor dangerous, but Vesperra was frightened by it nevertheless. He was stony-faced, and his gaze was unfathomable. "You could have been attacked, and I told you not to wander off on your own… You broke your promise."

As glad as he was to have her in his office for the first time in weeks and that she had discovered something crucial, he couldn't help but feel angry and hurt. And though she hadn't been harmed, there was fear within him knowing that she _could_ have been.

Vesperra's face fell, but only for how hurt Severus must have been feeling. She turned to face him and grabbed his upper arms, shaking them slightly. "No, Severus, I _didn't_." He frowned at her, and she paused. "I wasn't putting myself in danger at all, because I knew I would have heard the Basilisk coming. I would have heard it speaking Parseltongue…"

His anger dissipating, Severus suddenly felt proud of her. He watched as she quickly opened the book she had brought from the Room of Requirement to the middle and flipped through. When she got to the chapter on Basilisks, she stopped on that page and handed it to him.

"So I went to the Room of Requirement," she continued explaining, "and told it that I needed books on snakes. I found this one and everything fits! The roosters—You-Know-Who must have strangled them so there was no chance his Basilisk could be killed… Except I'm not sure how it ended up Petrifying those Muggleborns instead of killing them. If they looked at it directly in the eye, then—"

"Unless they _didn't_ look it directly in the eye," Severus said almost automatically, looking up from the page. Though he was well-versed in Dark creatures and already knew about the existence of Basilisks, he read over the page of the book Vesperra had. He mentally slapped himself for not having thought of it before—now that he thought about it, it should have been obvious that Slytherin's monster would be a giant snake.

Vesperra was confused for a moment, but then realized what he must have meant. "You're right—they might have just seen its reflection…" She was suddenly reminded of that story about the Ancient Greek witch, Medusa, but didn't mention it. "But they're all pretty damn lucky to have only been Petrified. What are the chances…?"

And that brought them to what Severus had to tell her. Scowling, he gave the book back to her. "Not all of them were only Petrified, Vesperra," he said, noting the spark in her eyes fade into dread. "The monster took Ginny Weasley directly into the Chamber no longer than an hour ago, and it would be foolish to believe she was still alive. Professor McGonagall has arranged for the Hogwarts Express to take everyone home first thing tomorrow."

"W-what? No…" Vesperra couldn't believe it. Well, not in a figurative sense. She understood that Hogwarts had to be closed for everyone's safety, but she didn't want to believe it. "There has to be _something_ we can do_…_ Wait—"

Having an idea, Vesperra started to focus very hard on imagining that she was about to speak to an actual snake, and it took a minute. Severus looked at her with a very puzzled and slightly disturbed expression, but she hardly noticed it. After a minute, she said, "Where are you?"

But what they both heard was a drawn-out hissing of various inflections. Vesperra bit her lip, waiting for a reply, but there was nothing. She sank further into the couch and let her head fall back, disappointed.

"What exactly were you trying to do?" asked Severus cautiously.

"I was _trying _to talk to the Basilisk and possibly find out where the Chamber of Secrets was," Vesperra said, frustrated, "but now I realize it was a stupid idea in the first place because the Chamber's probably miles under the school, and it wouldn't be able to hear me."

Both of them hated so much to give up, but there was absolutely nothing to be done. They had no idea where the entrance to the Chamber was, and they wouldn't be able to get inside even if they did. And even if they knew exactly how to get down there, Severus would never allow Vesperra to go. He didn't even know what he intended to do if he ended up facing Voldemort. If time permitted them, they might have been able to get Aurors down there, but it was useless to think about that.

Her expression hardening, Vesperra turned to Severus again. "Two questions, though—how did the Basilisk get around the school without anyone else noticing, and why did You-Know-Who have it take Ginny Weasley? She's a pureblood…"

He had been asking himself the same questions. "Didn't you tell me that the voice sounded like it was coming from the walls?" he said after a moment.

"Yes…" said Vesperra. "But if it was _within_ the walls, then…"

"_Pipes_," they said at the same time as their eyes locked on each other's.

"And the Weasley girl…" Vesperra was prepared to think long and hard, but she came to a realization in almost no time. "Her older brother is Harry Potter's best friend—what if You-Know-Who's trying to lure Potter down there so he can do what he failed to do last time?"

She said it with only slight worry in her voice, as she was just theorizing. But she knew it must be true, because it was the only probable explanation. Vesperra hated Potter and couldn't care less if he died, but she knew Severus was supposed to protect the school—even students that he hated.

Severus's throat burned again, but when he thought about it rationally, he saw less and less of a reason to be worried. How could Potter _possibly_ know how to get into the Chamber? It was just so unlikely… but with the magnitude of unlikely things that had gone on that year, he couldn't help but feel nervous. _No,_ he told himself, _not even Potter is stupid enough to leave his dormitory when _this_ is going on. How would he even manage it? And even if he does know how to get into the Chamber, he should know what the monster is as well. Potter wouldn't be so arrogant so as to think that he could take down a Basilisk…_

He stood up without warning, and scowled. "So we now know what the monster is and how it's getting around, but none of that matters because the Dark Lord has killed a student and the school will indefinitely close." He felt that he might as well get that out, however much he hated it. "However, I doubt that the victims would be able to tell us any of that, since they wouldn't have had more than a split second look at the Basilisk before being Petrified. But they still must be revived, obviously."

Severus then held out his hand to help Vesperra up off the couch—not that she needed any help. She appreciated it all the same, and let him pull her up.

"Would you like to help me with the Mandrake Restorative Draught?" he asked. "It's highly advanced and the results would be disastrous if not done properly, but I trust your skills—and you'll only be preparing ingredients. It'll be done more efficiently that way, but if you don't want—"

"Of course I do, Severus… At least then, I'll feel like I'm doing something…"

Vesperra walked with him over to his desk, which she only just noticed had potted Mandrakes on them.

"We can't cut them up while they're alive," he told her, "unless we wanted a bloody mess. So to kill them, you have to pull out a certain leaf that acts as a life-chord for them—it'll be the one that has a white stripe down the center."

For the next five or so minutes, Vesperra and Severus looked through the tangle of purplish green leaves on each of the seven Mandrakes and pulled out the one that kept them alive. Severus conjured earmuffs for both of them to wear when they pulled the Mandrakes out of their pots, just in case one had gone wrong, but they had all been fine.

Since the Restorative Draught called for freshly cut Mandrakes, Severus had had to wait until now to unpot them. Otherwise, he would have done so earlier. The two of them cut up all the Mandrakes into inch-thick chunks, which took at least an hour to get perfect even with both of them working. Those chunks were to be stewed for several hours, so the two of them had a long break.

"So… so Hogwarts is really finished," Vesperra said sadly as she sat down. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. But she was having a hard time accepting it. "And just like Dumbledore said, You-Know-Who is back, and he'll probably gain much more power very soon…"

He sighed. Severus would love to have told her not to say that, and that she shouldn't worry because he would keep her safe, but none of that was true—except that he would keep her safe. Because he always would. But Vesperra was smart and not naïve in the least… She'd accept the truth, however horrible. And he was dreading it as well—if Voldemort really was back, then life would become much, much more difficult than it already was.

They talked for much of the afternoon, but the conversation was quiet. That was mostly because they couldn't bring themselves to speak much louder. Both of them wanted to make the most of the last full day they had together before they had to leave. Vesperra gradually moved closer and closer to Severus on the couch—whether it was on purpose or not he wasn't sure—until finally he put his left arm around her and pulled her as close as possible.

She had calmed down a considerable amount when she had his arm around her and his chest supporting her head. It became easier to accept that she had to leave Hogwarts for good after a while, but only slightly.

During one of the particularly long mutual silences, Severus suddenly had a thought that actually cheered him up, and he squeezed Vesperra tighter for a second. Looking down at her, he said, "I forgot to tell you—we got rid of Lockhart."

"What?" she said, tilting her head so she could see his face and completely forgetting about the Chamber of Secrets for the moment.

"We told him that we would let him deal with the Chamber, since he claimed to know so much about it, and he's likely packing his things as we speak." Severus smirked, but it quickly disappeared. It didn't really matter that Lockhart would no longer be a problem, because he wouldn't even be teaching anymore either.

Vesperra smirked as well, and turned her head so she could lay it against him normally again. "That'll take forever, if he's taking all his clothes, hair products, portraits…" She knew as well as Severus did that it hardly mattered, but she was glad that Lockhart had been scared away. However, she was disappointed that she wouldn't be able to witness it when the curse of his Malignant Card happened.

Throughout the hours before sunset, Severus routinely stood from the couch to check on the simmering Mandrakes. Vesperra hated that he had to get up and then she had to get comfortable with his arm around her all over again, but she didn't argue, as it was necessary. Severus asked her if she was hungry several times, and each time she said no, since she really wasn't in the mood to eat. But when it was very late in the day, she finally succumbed to her aching stomach and let Severus get food for her. House Elves were already delivering food to all the Common Rooms and teacher's offices, anyway.

Sometime after eight o'clock, Severus lightly pushed Vesperra away from him. She looked at him when he didn't immediately stand up to check the cauldron, confused. "I daresay McGonagall would have contacted the Weasley girl's parents and let them come here…" he said. "Though the information isn't necessarily helpful, I should at least tell them what it was that killed their daughter. And I should see whether McGonagall has contacted Dumbledore as well."

Vesperra nodded, and he assured her that he would return in a half an hour at the most. She sat up straight, allowing him to stand, and saw him give her a short sorry look before he left. Though she'd have liked him to stay there or even bring her with him, she realized that she finally had the chance to do something she'd wanted to do ever since she first spent the day in here with him.

Scooting over, she sat in Severus's usual spot, which was still warm from his body heat. Vesperra might have just been imagining it, but that spot was much more comfortable than the rest of the couch.

* * *

Part of him couldn't believe that he was actually caring about the feelings of someone other than him or Vesperra, but Severus actually felt a bit sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. If he had hardly even been able to breathe when he had thought Vesperra had been taken by the monster, then he knew they would feel even worse to know that their own daughter had been taken.

Severus walked briskly out of the dungeons and into the Entrance Hall. He decided that he'd check the staffroom first, and then go up to McGonagall's office if she wasn't there. But as he strode through the Entrance Hall, the front doors were pushed open, and he stopped to see who it was. Dumbledore entered, carrying a briefcase in one hand.

"Minerva told me what happened," said Dumbledore as he approached Severus, who was extremely relieved to see him here. "She wrote the school governors as well, and they've agreed that they all want me back here. Except for Lucius Malfoy, of course."

The Headmaster (assuming he was officially the Headmaster again) continued walking through the Entrance Hall, and Severus walked with him. "Do you have anything planned? Is there anything you can actually _do_?" he said, somewhat angrily. He expected Dumbledore to be looking very grim, but he almost smiled at Severus's words.

"Why, Severus, I think you'd have learned by now not to underestimate me. Just because I choose not to share everything with you does not mean that I don't have a plan."

"So you _do_ have a plan?" said Severus, hopeful that perhaps Hogwarts wouldn't have to close after all.

"Not in the least. However, if I've guessed correctly and not overestimated those that I trust, Hogwarts will not be doomed. We should not worry until all has proven to be lost… But I've learned by now not to believe you capable of not worrying over things you care about, Severus."

He scowled, not even attempting to understand what Dumbledore meant, but the last thing he said reminded him—"Before it happened—before the girl was taken—Vesperra discovered some very important things that it would be helpful for you to know, Albus."

"By all means, Severus, tell me," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling. They stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that guarded entrance to his office, and Dumbledore gave it the password. It leapt aside and he stepped on, but Severus didn't.

"Do you mind if I go fetch Vesperra so I can bring her?" he asked.

Dumbledore grinned. "Not at all."

* * *

She had hardly waited ten minutes when the door flew open again, and Severus said, "Dumbledore's back, come on," holding out his hand. Vesperra took it immediately as she hopped off the couch. It took no longer then six seconds for him to whisk her out of there and through the dungeon corridors.

No longer feeling like she had been earlier, Vesperra was filled with a bit of hope now that Dumbledore was back. Severus didn't even have to pull her along, because she was eager enough that she was practically pulling him. Once in the Headmaster's office, they took the seats that he offered them.

"How nice to see you again, Miss D'Monicas," said Dumbledore. It appeared that he had completely unpacked in the time that it took Severus to fetch Vesperra, but they guessed that he hadn't taken much with him when he left. He must have known that he'd return to Hogwarts soon after his suspension. "Severus tells me that you've discovered things about the Chamber of Secrets."

The old man's eyes twinkled as they always did, and Severus wondered how he could seem pleased in any sense with all that was happening. Sure, he said that he expected things wouldn't turn out horrible, but one of his students had died. Not that Severus was actually upset about the Weasley girl, but Dumbledore was one to care about everyone.

"I have, Headmaster," Vesperra said, getting comfortable in the chair that she remembered sitting in twice before. She then told him everything, starting with the voice she had heard a few times during the year that no one else could hear, and how she found out that only she could hear it because she was a Parselmouth. And she went on with everything that she had told Severus earlier, as well as what they had realized together—that the Basilisk had been getting around via the castle's plumbing, and that Voldemort must have been trying to lure Harry Potter down to the Chamber.

"Sir," said Vesperra hesitantly after mentioning Potter, "do _you_ think it's even possible for Potter to get down into the Chamber?"

Severus took a side-glance at Vesperra and frowned, wondering if she was asking this because she didn't trust his judgment and wanted Dumbledore's opinion instead. If she was, then he was angry. However, he quickly realized that she may have merely figured that Dumbledore would know Potter more personally and therefore have a reason to think differently.

"That, I am afraid, I cannot answer," Dumbledore said. He then leaned forward a bit, and smiled slightly. "But I must say, I am quite impressed that you discovered all of this almost completely on your own. It is rather heartening to see a Slytherin put their resourcefulness to _helping_ others rather than harming them, especially a young one, as children can often be misguided… Severus must be very grateful for you," he added without looking at the man in question.

"I am," said Severus immediately. "I—"

He was about to say that he didn't know what he would do without her, but, sitting on her perch, Fawkes let out a high, musical note. In a single flap of her wings, she flew off the perch and over to a shelf on the wall, clutched the Sorting Hat in her talons, then caught fire and disappeared without a trace—but one feather had fallen onto the floor.

After witnessing that amazing, yet confusing sight, Vesperra and Severus looked to each other, bewildered, and then at Dumbledore, who was still staring vaguely at the spot where Fawkes had disappeared with a small smile.

There was a short, awkward silence, and Vesperra spoke first. "What just happened?"

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused to himself before turning back to Severus and Vesperra, who stared at him expectantly. "I am not sure, Miss D'Monicas… It has only happened twice before, and those were several decades ago. And as to whether it is relevant to the situation at hand… I don't doubt it."

They had both experienced enough with Hogwarts's eccentric Headmaster to know that he was not going to explain further, and did not press it.

"I take it this information will be helpful?" said Severus dryly, seeing no use to continue sitting in Dumbledore's office if there was nothing more to be said.

"It likely will," said Dumbledore. His expression turned grim. "Now, I must get down to Minerva and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—I believe you two would like to leave as well."

He made for the door, and opened it for them. Severus was closer to the door, but he immediately placed his hand in between Vesperra's shoulder blades and allowed her to leave before him. In spite of the possible doom of Hogwarts and everything in it, she couldn't help but feel strangely happy at how much of a gentleman Severus was. It was especially strange in the fact that she wouldn't accept polite gestures such as helping her up or letting her go first from anyone else—not that anyone else would ever treat her that way.

They waited for the spiral staircase to stop at the exit, and parted ways—Vesperra going with Severus, of course. Even though Dumbledore was annoyingly vague about his plan (or what he '_expected to happen_,' whichever) as usual, they felt much more confident as they walked down the corridors and back to his office. There really was a chance that they wouldn't have to leave Hogwarts forever.

Soon, the Mandrakes had been stewed into a paste, and they were able to add the rest of the ingredients—which weren't many, as Mandrakes were the primary ingredient. Though he trusted her abilities more than he might trust one of his own colleagues, Severus had told her not to do anything without him instructing her first, since they couldn't afford any mistakes. The Mandrake Restorative Draught was finished within half an hour, and there was only a slight sense of dread between them. Severus's was definitely stronger, though, since he still had the possibility, however slim, of Potter being in the Chamber of Secrets looming over him. And if the boy _was_ down there, he couldn't do anything about it.

Rather than filling flasks, Severus transferred the potion to a vat, so Madam Pomfrey could ladle it at her leisure, since it would have to be poured directly down the victims' throats.

"Once again, I'll return soon," he told Vesperra before casting a Hover Charm on the vat and leaving.

* * *

It was late, and the day that Vesperra had had certainly been a long and stressful one. When Severus left, she went and sat at the couch, thinking of what would happen later. Truthfully, she didn't know at this point. Before long, it became uncomfortable to sit up, so she shifted her body so that she lay on her side on the couch, her head propped up against the arm rests. She closed her eyes, intending only to rest a bit until Severus got back, but her brain decided that she needed some sleep, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Severus arrived at the Hospital Wing, he found Madam Pomfrey in her office, looking quite worried. She gave a soft "Oh!" of surprise and relief when she saw him, and thanked him as he set the vat of Mandrake juice on her desk. He left immediately after and went to McGonagall's office, where he told Dumbledore and the rest of them that Madam Pomfrey would be administering the Mandrake Restorative Draught now and the victims would wake soon.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Severus, would you mind informing Argus of this? He will be rather pleased to know that Mrs. Norris will soon be revived."

He gave a sharp nod and tried not to look at the sobbing Mrs. Weasley as he swept himself out of the room and to Filch's office. The caretaker was more irritable and unpleasant as usual when he was rudely woken, but his ugly face broke into a smile of unmistakable happiness when Severus told him the news. His cat appeared to be all he cared about, since he showed no concern for the fact that it was likely Hogwarts itself was finished.

That was the first time he had ever seen Filch smile for any reason other than the prospect of punishing students or expelling Peeves. It was very strange, but as he returned to his office, he realized that he had seen a lot of things he never thought he'd see today.

Entering his office and closing the door behind him, he saw Vesperra asleep on his couch and almost smiled. He knew that she'd still have to pack her things before the Hogwarts Express took everyone home, but he really didn't want to wake her. Besides, if she were to walk into the Slytherin Common Room at this late hour, that would trigger a multitude of questions and suspicions that she didn't need. And he doubted she'd have much to pack, anyway, so he decided to wake her up early in the morning.

Not sure whether his couch would be comfortable enough for her to sleep in, he bent down to scoop her up off the couch and carried her to his room. As he did, he remembered carrying her the same way almost exactly a year ago—but for entirely different reasons that he didn't like to think about. She didn't stir or show any signs of waking up while in his arms, and he figured she must have been very tired.

Severus set her down gently in his bed, and turned to leave so he could sleep on his office couch. But then he saw the picture of him and Lily on his bedside table, and he couldn't have her waking up and seeing that… there was no doubt she'd be curious. So he picked up the picture slowly and quietly, kissed Lily's face in it, then set it back down and cast a Disillusionment Charm on it.

Before leaving, he bent down over his bed and pushed Vesperra's somewhat messy hair away from her face so he could kiss her forehead as well. _Goodnight,_ he thought to her, wondering whether she'd remember that he'd kissed her like he knew she had last time. At that, he grabbed an extra pillow from the floor and went back into his office, feeling rather tired himself. Severus kicked off his shoes and laid long-ways on his couch, which forced him to nearly be in fetal position, but he didn't care. Setting up his pillow, he got comfortable and fell asleep.

About an hour later, Severus was awoken by a loud knocking noise, which he almost immediately realized was from someone at his door. He wondered what might have happened that required his assistance or knowledge of it so urgently. It was no doubt something to do with the Chamber of Secrets…

When he unlocked and opened his door, Dumbledore was on the other side, beaming. "To make a long story short, Severus," he said, "Miss Weasley is alive, the Basilisk is dead, and Lord Voldemort was defeated yet again—by none other than Harry Potter."

Severus had to be dreaming. It was too good to be true… He had spoken to Dumbledore hardly an hour and a half earlier, and now he was telling him that everything was all fine, just like that?

Apparently, Dumbledore had read the look of disbelief on his face, because he chuckled and said, "Like I've told you, _don't_ underestimate me—or Harry, either, because he did beautifully. The entire school is currently in celebration in the Great Hall, which I must get back to, Severus—please wake Miss D'Monicas and come join the feast." And then he smiled before walking away seconds later.

Still trying to wrap his mind around it, Severus spent a minute convincing himself that it was all true. That would have been easier if he hadn't just woken up, and if Dumbledore had explained more. But he didn't waste anymore time, and went into his room, where Vesperra was sleeping soundly on his bed. Upon seeing her face in that peaceful, yet not entirely expressionless state, he was a little reluctant to wake her up. He bent down again and softly shook her shoulder, saying just as softly into her ear, "Vesperra, wake up…"

* * *

Vesperra groaned and rolled over as she awoke, still very tired. She obviously couldn't have slept that long… But then she realized that she wasn't in her four-poster bed in her dormitory—she knew not from the surroundings, but from the fact that she was laying on something much more comfortable. It took her a second, and then she remembered everything that had happened and that she hadn't fallen asleep in her dorm, she had fallen asleep on Severus's couch… but she wasn't on his couch, either.

A second later, her vision came into focus and she saw Severus looking down at her.

"Sev…erus… wha—?" said Vesperra, squinting up at him. "Why am I in your bed?"

"I carried you in here earlier so you could sleep more comfortably," he replied, still speaking softly so as to let her adjust as he fully woke up. She gave him a dazed smile at that, and he smiled back. But she also felt slightly awkward speaking to him while lying down, so she put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to a sitting position.

"So why'd you wake me up?" she asked while yawning.

"Dumbledore just showed up at my door and told me…" He told her, word for word, what the Headmaster had said, and her eyes widened in surprise, relief, happiness, and whatever else would fit into that category. And also confusion, something they'd felt rather frequently that day. "If you'd rather sleep than attend the feast, then—"

But he was cut off as Vesperra practically jumped up to stand on his bed and threw her arms around his neck again in a tight hug. "It's all over, Severus!" she breathed, pressing her cheek into his and smiled. He was somewhat surprised, but he could feel her happiness radiating and felt the same. Hugging her back just as tightly, he smiled and lifted her off the bed, spun her around once, and bent his knees to let her down on the floor.

"And I _do_ want to attend the feast, Severus, I'm starving," she said.

He smirked down at her. "You'd better get going, then. I'll come up in a few minutes."

* * *

Nearly everyone at the feast, including the teachers, was in their pajamas. Vesperra stood out even more than usual, as she was fully clad in her school robes despite it being near midnight. The conversation amongst the students was loud and more excited than last year's leaving feast had been, and as disappointed as a lot of the Slytherins were that the monster had been defeated and the Muggleborns revived, they were happy that Hogwarts was not going to be closed. But what they were _really_ interested in was Vesperra.

"Where the hell _were_ you, Grease-perra?" said Malfoy the moment she arrived at the table.

Vesperra had known that would happen when she had been headed to the Common Room earlier—it had only been stalled. She figured the best approach was to play dumb, since she really had no explanation for anything. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said as she sat down, loading her plate with food. "I've been in my dorm the whole time."

"What—you—no you weren't!" Malfoy yelled, mixed with arguments from the other Slytherins.

"You weren't in Herbology—"

"You didn't come back to the Common Room—"

"This proves it!" Daphne shrieked, leaning over the table. "This _proves_ you're the Heir of Slytherin—you left so you could open the Chamber, and you've been down there this whole time!"

There was a murmur—for want of a better word—of assent, but Vesperra met Daphne's frantic look with a glare. "Then why have I not been expelled?" she said. "The monster was killed and the Heir was caught." She then looked down and ate, muttering "Morons…" under her breath.

The rest of the Slytherins were forced to believe that Vesperra had had no part in the Chamber, but they didn't stop asking questions, even though she ignored them. It was much easier than usual, considering that she could hardly hear them over the noise of the Great Hall, and since she had a lot to think about.

With the exception of Slytherin, House tables didn't seem to matter anymore, since students were crossing over to celebrate with their friends from all Houses and talk to the revived Basilisk victims. Vesperra was full after having seconds of desert, but she stayed for the remainder of the feast, which lasted all night. When it had to have been at least four in the morning, McGonagall stood up and everyone looked to her, quieting down.

"As a school treat," she said, smiling as wide as was possible for her, "exams have been cancelled."

The ensuing cheer was deafening, and Malfoy laughed right in Vesperra's scowling face. She was half glad that there wouldn't be any exams, and half frustrated that she had done all that studying for nothing. Throughout the night and into the early hours of the morning, rumors spread of what had actually happened down in the Chamber of Secrets, and people eventually caught wind of Voldemort having been in the school. They were just as confused as she was.

Apparently, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had been in the Chamber and fought the Basilisk and saved Ginny Weasley… so Dumbledore saw fit to award them two-hundred points each, securing Gryffindor the House Cup. With all that had gone on and the intensity of the celebration, everything that normally would have happened in the Leaving Feast happened then. Just as they had last year, the Slytherin table was the only one not to cheer when it was said that Gryffindor had won with over seven-hundred points.

However, Vesperra had something else to be happy about when Dumbledore announced that Lockhart had to go away and get his memory back. She knew it must have been because of the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards, though she didn't know the details—yet.

* * *

Throughout the feast, mixed emotions raged inside Severus. The school was safe, Voldemort would be kept at bay yet again, and no one was dead… But Potter _had_ been down in the Chamber. Potter must have nearly died… and if he had been killed, then Severus would have failed. And just as it had been at the end of last year and the beginning of this school year, he had had absolutely no control over it. The Boy-Who-Lived could have _died_, and he would have been able to do nothing about it.

Severus felt very angry—at Potter, for being as arrogant as his father and thinking that he could defeat anything, putting himself in life-threatening situations… and at himself, for not keeping a closer eye on the kid during the year. However, there were still so many things left unanswered, and he needed to know the _how_.

After sunrise, many people left to go take a nap and then unpack, and others went outside to enjoy the day, as all the excitement was keeping them awake. When Dumbledore stood up to finally leave, Severus stood as well, and walked with him. The old man chuckled, then sighed.

"I believe you and Miss D'Monicas would like an explanation," said Dumbledore.

"We would," Severus said shortly, still walking with him. "But I think she would like some sleep first—"

He pushed the door open, and Vesperra was already standing on the other side, leaning against the wall.

* * *

Vesperra went straight to the staffroom entrance when she left the Great Hall, since she knew Severus would exit from there. When he did, Dumbledore was with him, so she folded her arms as she leaned against the wall and narrowed her eyes.

"So are you going to tell us everything now, Professor?" she said snidely to the Headmaster.

No less than she expected, he smiled. "I believe I am," he said, glancing at Severus. Though he didn't say anything else, Severus knew he was thinking something along the lines of '_You stand corrected_.'

Dumbledore led them up to his office, and since everyone was either in the Common Rooms, sleeping, or outside, they didn't cross paths with anyone (which was highly lucky). They sat down in the same chairs that they had last night, and Dumbledore at his desk, naturally. Fawkes and the Sorting Hat were there once again.

"Would you prefer for me to answer questions as you ask them," he said, "or for me to tell the entire story, from start to finish?"

Severus and Vesperra looked at each other and, without speaking, came to the decision that Severus would choose. They weren't sure how they had done it, since there was no Legilimency involved, but it was only fair that Severus would do the talking after Vesperra had done it all the last time.

"The entire story would be best," said Severus. Dumbledore grinned at them, and they wondered if he knew about their non-verbal communication. He probably did.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, clearing his throat to start. "I suppose this all begins with Lucius Malfoy, who was in Flourish and Blotts on the day of Lockhart's book signing…" For a while, he spoke into the near silence, punctuated by the sounds of Vesperra and Severus shifting in their seats, and very small gasps at certain things he had told them. Vesperra was especially surprised, since she had seen Lucius Malfoy that same day, in Knockturn Alley. But she didn't mention that.

They listened with rapt attention as Dumbledore told them how Malfoy's father had slipped a small, empty diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron, and how that diary belonged to Voldemort when he was a teenager—when he had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore didn't need to explain the Chamber of Secrets story again, so they knew that Voldemort hadn't been expelled. Apparently, he preserved the memory of his sixteen year-old self inside that book, so when the Weasley girl poured her heart out into it, Voldemort's memory was able to possess her and open the Chamber.

That explained how Voldemort had been in the school, and Vesperra and Severus both agreed that that would have been near impossible to find out. But they weren't satisfied—they wanted to know how the hell _Potter_ figured it out.

Dumbledore didn't want to be more than vague about that. "Harry Potter's relatively short journey to discovering everything is his business alone," he said with a finalizing tone. "But I will divulge that none of it would have been solved if it weren't for Miss Hermione Granger. If she had not been Petrified, everything might have been solved several weeks ago. It was rather lucky Messrs Potter and Weasley visited her in the Hospital Wing yesterday."

_Of course,_ thought Vesperra, frowning. _Of course Granger solved it… and Potter still got the credit!_ She continued listening, angry, to Dumbledore telling them what had happened afterwards. The Headmaster still didn't want to tell them everything, as he believed it somewhat personal, but he told them that Potter and Weasley took Lockhart down there with him, and that Lockhart had been hit with a backfired Memory Charm, which caused him to completely forget everything, including who he even was. He was currently in St. Mungo's, but it was likely that he would never leave.

Severus smirked, sure that the man had gotten what he deserved. Vesperra was jumping up and down on the inside. And then Dumbledore continued, saying that the reason Fawkes had left with the Sorting Hat last night was because he was helping Potter, who really needed help at the moment. The Sword of Godric Gryffindor had appeared in the Hat, and Potter had used it to kill the Basilisk—Vesperra remembered reading that the Basilisk could be killed with its own venom, and figured that the Sword's blade must be imbibed with Basilisk venom. And then, with one of the Basilisk's fangs, Potter had stabbed the book and thus killed the memory of Voldemort.

There were other bits of information that they weren't sure of yet, like how the Weasley girl had still been alive and how Potter, Ron Weasley, and Lockhart had gotten out of the Chamber, but they honestly didn't care about those. However, there was one thing that Vesperra wanted to know.

"Professor," she said, "how did Potter get _into_ the Chamber, if only the Heir of Slytherin is supposed to be able to open it?"

"Parseltongue," said Dumbledore simply. "It is a rare gift, so Salazar Slytherin would have thought that only his descendants, who would have inherited the ability, would be able to open it."

It brought Vesperra a strange sense of frustration as well as smugness to know that she _could_, in fact, have opened the Chamber of Secrets… if they had only known where the entrance was. And though the Basilisk was dead and the Chamber no longer posed any danger, she was sure Dumbledore wouldn't tell her where it was.

Severus, however, was more focused on the fact that Potter had been so close to death. As much as he hated to care, he did. But he didn't want to… He wished he could just appreciate that the boy had lived rather than feel angry that he had nearly died. The situation had been out of his control… And yet, he couldn't help that feeling. Either way, he knew it would pass soon enough, just as it had at the beginning of the year.

"Well, now that you two understand everything that has gone on this hectic year," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "I suggest that the both of you return to your rooms and get some sleep—you look exhausted."

Nodding, Severus led Vesperra out of the Headmaster's office, but Dumbledore added one last thing before he closed the door—"Oh, and I do apologize for the stress I've inadvertently put you two through this year."

* * *

Everything went back to normal, and the rest of term passed with what could be considered bliss compared to the stress and fear that filled most of the year. What was best about it (even better than Defense Against the Dark Arts classes being cancelled) was that Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. So Malfoy was no longer his usual confidently arrogant self.

Vesperra and Severus were perhaps gladder than everyone that Lucius Malfoy had been sacked, since it was his fault any of this happened in the first place. _He_ had given the diary to Ginny Weasley, and so he had put the entire school in a state of fear and had it threatening to close for good. He was the sole reason that this year had been so awful and, though it only mattered to Severus, he was the sole reason that Potter had been in danger this year.

It gave Vesperra even more of a reason to hate the Malfoy family, and Severus a sense of annoyance that he would still have to pretend to like them in the future. But they didn't have to worry about that now, since it was the end of the school year and the summer holidays were almost upon them.

* * *

"Do you suppose it's going to be like this every year?" said Vesperra casually as she searched along the rock edge of the clearing for some thin, flat rocks—preferably limestone.

Severus found a large piece of slate, and easily broke it in two. He walked over to her, handed her one of the halves, and said, "Like what?"

Smiling as she took the rock from him, Vesperra took her stance at the edge of the lake, bending her knees and making sure she had her shoulder at the right angle. With a flick of her wrist, the rock flew out of her hand and skipped once—twice—three times across the water, then sunk. And then she spoke. "You know, everything seems normal, but then something happens that puts the school in danger, and Dumbledore wants you to try and take care of it… Then Potter saves the day anyway, and Dumbledore explains everything to us at the end of the year…"

"You forgot the part where Slytherin loses the House Cup to Gryffindor," he said, taking a stance to skip his own rock. "But as much as I hope it won't be, I don't doubt it… Not with Potter attending Hogwarts." Severus flicked his wrist, and they watched the rock skip across the lake… four times. He looked at Vesperra and smirked.

It was the last day before term ended and everyone went home for the summer, and they had decided to spend it together at the clearing by the lake. Vesperra had already packed, and though she hadn't even left Hogwarts yet, she was already starting to miss it. She and Severus skipped rocks for a while—something Vesperra had never had the chance to do before. But Severus taught her and it didn't take too long to catch on. He noticed with a smirk how she insisted on trying over and over again without breaks, just so she could become good at it. She was always so determined, even with something as simple as this.

Later in the day, they lay in the grass, and Severus could hardly feel the pain of memories of Lily at all. The memories did come to him, but they didn't bring any pain with them. He was just enjoying the last few hours he could spend with Vesperra before she left—but he assured her that it wouldn't be the last time they'd see each other before school started again.

"Like I told you before, you're welcome at my house any time…" said Severus, turning his head to look at her as he laid down. "Although, it would still be good to tell me when you're coming."

"And if my parents don't let me?" she asked, hoping they would.

"I said we'd figure something out… Perhaps I can pay them a little visit."

Vesperra laughed. "_That_ would not be a pleasant sight to see."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, then," he said. Pausing to think a moment, he added, "Do you think your parents would be proud of you if they knew what you've done, how clever and brave you've been?"

She didn't know whether he was joking or not, but he seemed serious enough. After giving him an '_Are you kidding me?_' look, she turned her face to the sky and said, "Proud? I doubt it… I don't think they've ever been proud of me. And I don't know what you're talking about, brave… I'm not brave."

Severus frowned. "You are when it counts. You're just not foolishly brave, because you don't overestimate your abilities. But you _can_ be brave, I've seen it. And from what else I've seen and heard, you can be pretty bold at times as well."

"You're right, I can…" said Vesperra. She then smirked and, taking what he said as an incentive to be bold, leaned over and kissed his forehead before falling back into her place on the grass.

He looked at her questioningly with a slight smile, and she said, "Yes, I felt it."

* * *

The next morning was a surprisingly quick one. At breakfast, they were all given the usual notes that remind them not to use magic outside of Hogwarts. Vesperra disregarded hers, knowing she'd be able to use magic both at home and at Severus's house—if she even went there. After saying goodbye to him, she rode in a horseless carriage back to Hogsmeade station along with the rest of the school. However, she had a feeling that they weren't horseless. There were things she could hear when no one else could because of the way she was, and clearly there was something about Theodore Nott that allowed him to see what no one else couldn't.

It was strange, riding the train back home. It seemed like forever and a day had passed since she last boarded the Hogwarts Express. But it definitely wasn't as bad as last time, when she had known she wouldn't see Severus for two entire months. The day was long, but Vesperra still had some money to buy candy from the trolley, as well as that book on famous snakes to occupy herself with. She had kept it, and wanted to read more in-depth from what she had skimmed in the Room of Requirement.

Several hours passed, and it was dark outside when the Hogwarts Express stopped at Platform 9 ¾. Vesperra grabbed her trunk and sighed, reluctant to go home. But she had to, so she dragged it out of her compartment (she had been lucky enough to find an empty one) and filed out of the cramped corridors of the train. Just before getting off, she saw Luna Lovegood, looking just as out of it as she had at the beginning of the year, though a bit taller. Vesperra had a sudden thought, and quickly got to the Lovegood girl before she could step off the train.

"Hey—Lovegood—" said Vesperra as she walked up to her and stepped off to the side so she wouldn't be in anyone's way.

"Oh, I remember you…" she said in her dreamy voice, smiling. Vesperra wasn't sure whether the girl was actually looking at her, since her eyes were unfocused, but she ignored that. "I met you on the train in September. You're Vesperra."

"Yes, and I actually wanted to ask you about that—You called me 'Vesperra' before we got to Hogwarts, but I hadn't even told you my name. How did you know?" As simple as this was, she was genuinely curious, and figured that she might as well ask now that she had the chance.

"I heard a boy mention you when I passed a compartment," said Luna, nodding slightly to confirm to herself that she remembered correctly. "It was a Slytherin… I think it was Theodore Nott." With that, she smiled vaguely and walked off the train.

Vesperra chose not to think too deeply into that just yet, and instead walked out onto the dark platform, which was full of grotesque displays of affection between family members that hadn't seen each other in a long time. It wasn't difficult to find her mother, who was leaning against a pillar, expressionless as usual. When Vesperra got to her, her mum immediately pulled out her wand and held out her arm.

"We're Apparating," she said. "Now gra—"

"Wait, Mum—" Vesperra surprised both herself and her mother by speaking to her in a non-hostile manner, but she knew it was necessary if she was to get her mother to agree to this. "I wanted to ask you—here, not in front of Dad… Will you let me visit a friend from Hogwarts over the summer? Not for more than a few hours at a time, just—"

"Who is she?" her mother asked, narrowing her eyes.

"_He_—_His_ name is Severus."

Her mother seemed somewhat surprised that he friend was a boy, but it looked as though she was thinking about it more and realizing that it made sense—Vesperra could tell by her changing facial expression. And it really did make sense, considering that Vesperra had never been very feminine.

"Sev—?" As she glanced at Vesperra's neck, something must have clicked in her mother's head, for she nodded.  
"Alright," she said, smirking with a wicked glint in her eye. "Since you'll at least be out of the house… I'll let you visit your boyfriend. Now grab my arm."

Scowling, she muttered, "He's not my boyfriend…" and gripped her mother's arm as tightly as possible. A second later, they Disapparated.

* * *

**And Book 2 is finally finished! It took me 2 months less than it did to write Book 1, but I'm pretty sure that's because it's the summer and I was able to finish most chapters in about 5 or 6 days. I am SO glad that I'm done with this, because there wasn't much that Severus or Vesperra could do. It was more of a 'stand by and get information, then stress out about things you have no control over' book. But at least I got a lot of character (and relationship) development done, as well as a few major plot points and foreshadowing.**

**Now excuse me while I celebrate with loads of Firewhiskey... If I had Firewhiskey. :(**

**But now that Book 2 is over, I'm expecting _massive_ amounts of reviews. Okay, I guess I shouldn't really expect too many, since I don't want to get my hopes up, but I'd like a crapload of reviews, please. I want to know if the ending was unexpected or whether you liked it, what your favorite parts were, what your hopes and expectations for Book 3 are... PLEASE REVIEW, SIRIUSLY. AND IF YOU DON'T READ MY AUTHOR'S NOTES, YOU REALLY SHOULD.**


	29. Book 3: Chapter 1

**And finally, here is the beginning of Book 3! I think Book 3 is going to be one of my favorites... I have so much awesome stuff planned. And guys, thanks so much for getting this story noticed! 85 reviews so far... _wow_. I mean, I've started meeting fans of this fanfic everywhere. I'll mention it on a page, and then someone will be like, "_You_ write that story? I love it!" Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Enjoy the chapter. :)**

* * *

Rather than Apparating directly into the middle of her sitting room, Vesperra and her mother Apparated in front of her house. They threw open the door and got inside as quickly as they could, for the loud cracking noise that was made during Apparition would likely have drawn the attention of Muggles in the area. But risking the attention of Muggles to the only Wizarding house in Stoneyard (presumably, since they really couldn't be sure) was better than the possible row Vesperra's parents would have, like they had last year.

When they stepped inside, Vesperra continued dragging her trunk to her room without stopping, but she glanced at the sitting room couch for a second and saw her father passed out on it, a beer can still in his hand. Her mum left him be and went to her own room, without asking Vesperra if she wanted dinner after several hours on a train with nothing but a bit of candy. She hadn't expected her to, even though her mother wouldn't even have known that she'd even had any candy.

Entering her room was almost unreal, like entering a memory. She shut the door behind her and looked around at her small room, with only an old, notoriously uncomfortable bed, a small bedside table, and a dresser that didn't hold very much clothes. There wasn't even a closet in the room, which, along with how small it was, led Vesperra to believe that it had originally been built to be an office.

Putting her school trunk in the corner of her room, she then took off her school robes and threw them aside before putting on her nightclothes. Vesperra took out her wand and her journal first, which she set down on her bedside table. Realizing just how tired she was, she slid off the edge of her bed to get to her trunk, where she found a quill, then got back to her journal and wrote a single message for Severus;

_**Just got home, I'm really tired, so I'll talk to you tomorrow. Don't write back tonight.**_

It would have been good revenge to not tell him that she was going straight to sleep, but she knew that he hadn't done that on purpose a couple weeks before… Besides, there was hardly anything Severus could do to make her want to get revenge on him. So she left the journal on her bedside table with her wand sitting on top of it, and tried to get some sleep on that stiff bed.

When Vesperra woke up the next morning, she was regretting not having learned a Cushioning Charm yet. Hopefully they'd learn that next year at Hogwarts. But this summer, she was much less reluctant to leave the castle. She now had over two months of no Malfoy, no Potter, and no stress. There were no people around except her parents, who she was sure it would be easier to handle now that she'd be able to visit Severus often.

After getting dressed, she decided to empty her trunk of everything she didn't need. Vesperra went to the corner where she had put it, and began pulling things out. On top of everything else were her school robes, which she wouldn't wear until the school year started again (since her father would be furious if he saw her dressed like a witch), so she kept them folded and set them on the ground. She pulled out all the other clothes as well, and decided to put them away later. Then, there were all her books, most of which she knew she wouldn't need for school anymore—Lockhart's books especially. All the rest she would definitely keep, but she had absolutely no use for Lockhart's.

Setting the stack of Lockhart's books aside, she pulled the box for the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards out of her school trunk. Suddenly, she had a strong urge to take out the cards, so she hastily put the box on the floor. Vesperra frowned at the box, unsure what she should do with it. There were certainly more people that she'd like to use the cards on, but she had promised Severus and she did not intend to break that promise. It would probably be best to hide it somewhere in her room, but what if her mum or dad went snooping and found it? She supposed that was a risk she'd have to take, because she didn't want to be tempted to use those cards.

Vesperra had never had anything to hide as a small child, so she'd never had any use for the several loose floorboards in her room, but now she did. Finding one at the end of her bed, she lifted it and saw dirt and a bit of rat feces among the wood. Ignoring that, she took the box and, as quickly as possible so she wouldn't feel its tempting effects for long, put it under the floor and slid the floorboard back over it. For a moment she sat still, her heart pounding, but then she relaxed. She hadn't expected it to be so easy… so she continued to be wary of it.

Returning to her trunk, she pulled out several quills, ink bottles, and rolls of parchment. She piled all her notes from that year with her notes from her first year, knowing that she may need them during her fifth year, when she would take her O.W.L.s. At the very bottom was _Known Poisons and Their Antidotes_. In the time that it hadn't been touched or even been exposed to much air from under her other books and things, it had accumulated some dust, as well as debris from broken quills and ripped, worn-out parchment. Vesperra took the book out and brushed it off, once again making a mental note to learn some cleaning charms.

She spent about twenty minutes sorting everything, throwing away what she knew she wouldn't need and setting aside what she would only need in her later years. But she didn't throw away Lockhart's books, as she wanted to do something bigger with them rather than just throw them away.

And before long, Vesperra was starving. She knew that, once again, she would have to get used to not getting the meals that she did at Hogwarts. After last year, she didn't want a repeat of what had happened when she had simply gone out to get breakfast, but she was starving. This time she knew to be cautious, though—and really, what were the chances that the same thing would happen all over again?

Making sure to be quiet, she slinked out of her room and walked slowly into the kitchen. Her father was sitting on the couch in the sitting room, holding his head in his hands and groaning. It must have been a hangover, she figured. And she didn't feel the least bit sorry for him. Smirking, Vesperra reached for the breadbox on the counter and took two slices of bread, then put them in the toaster. She didn't fear her dad's temper this morning, since he would have too much of a headache and be too nauseous to actually make the effort to walk over there and hit her. So she didn't care to be too quiet.

"When did you… get here?" said her father's gruff voice. She turned around, and saw him leering at her with bloodshot eyes, his skin tinged slightly yellow and his hair looking as unkempt as ever.

"Last night," said Vesperra, deciding that she'd looked at him long enough and turning back around. She spoke somewhat louder than she would have, since she knew it would sound much louder to her father in his hungover state, and increase his headache.

"_Gah_—don't—talk so loud…" he groaned. Then, a minute later, he muttered to himself, probably thinking that Vesperra wouldn't hear him, "Cassandra… don't tell me nothing."

As Vesperra waited for her toast to pop up, she scoffed, figuring that her mum probably did tell him, but he was too drunk to remember. But then, she wondered if her father had gotten drunk because of her. Did he really hate the idea of his daughter coming home for the summer so much that he wanted to get drunk? Scowling, she decided that she didn't care, and moved on to wondering where her mum was… probably still in her room.

The toast popped up, and the noise of it clearly startled her father, since he let out a short yell and clutched his head again, seething painfully. Vesperra smirked again, but hurried up in smothering her toast with jam so she could get out of there soon. When she started to leave the kitchen a minute later, her dad stopped her.

"Get me something," he said pathetically, still on the couch.

"What do you want?" replied Vesperra curtly, looking at him only through a side-glance.

"Something—to stop this—bloody—hangover…"

Frowning at him, Vesperra wondered if he meant a potion. Surely he couldn't, since he wouldn't take anything made magically even if it would save his life… Before she could ask him, he looked up at her, his face a bit calmer and less angry than it was when he normally looked at her, but that was probably because of the state he was in, and how desperate he was.

"You—going to that _magic _school—you must know… herbs or some other…" he said, apparently unable to come up with a coherent ending to that sentence.

She'd have liked to watch her father suffer—he definitely deserved it, especially because it was his own fault that he had a hangover in the first place; but if she didn't do anything, he'd likely punish her for it later. So Vesperra reluctantly set down her plate of toast and climbed onto the counter so she could reach the upper shelves of the kitchen cabinets. After a minute, she came down with a large jar in her hands and took it over to her dad.

"Pickles?" he asked, taking the jar and scowling up at Vesperra. "How will that help—?"

"They're nutrients," snapped Vesperra, scowling back at him. "And not getting so damned drunk would help as—"

Her father's hand swung out immediately and made contact with her face, hitting her hard. It was hard enough that her head was knocked to the side and she might have lost her balance if she hadn't stepped back with one foot. Her left hand flew up to hold her stinging face, but she didn't cry out.

"Don't talk like that to me!" he hissed, opening the jar of pickles and taking one out to bite.

Vesperra didn't need it spelt out for her. She returned to the kitchen at once to grab her plate of toast, which was now sure to be cold and therefore somewhat gross. As she took it back to her room, she supposed it had been pretty stupid to antagonize her father like that when in close proximity to him. But she kept asking herself why she even did that in the first place. She could have just lied and said that she didn't know what would help him, or even have given him something that would make his hangover _worse_… but she didn't. Why? She didn't love him… how could she? How could she possibly even care about the man that had abused her for as long as she could remember simply for being a witch? Even though he was her father, he definitely didn't act like one.

Contemplating this for too long, Vesperra knew, would only lead to more confusion, so she decided to stop. Instead, she passed the time with talking to Severus with her journal, which she would have done anyway.

She was happier than he could know that she was able to visit him this summer. It would be impossible to try and convey exactly how much she had missed him last summer, so she wasn't going to try. The feeling of being deprived of him had been the worst in the world, and she never wanted to feel it again. But she couldn't visit him too often, or it might not be as… _special_. As much as she loved spending time with Severus, she wanted it to be something to look forward to rather than something she did everyday. Although, she didn't think it was possible for her to get sick of him.

A couple days after her first day back, Vesperra left her bedroom early in the morning but after her father had left for work, so she could ask her mum. She found her in the kitchen, rummaging in the cupboard while a pot of coffee poured itself into a mug of its own accord.

When she closed the cupboard, she saw Vesperra standing by the fridge and scowled. "What do you want?"

"To visit my friend today—I thought I'd ask you first," said Vesperra.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "You're not even dressed properly."

"I know—but I wanted to know whether you'd even let me before I bothered getting dressed."

"Yes, you can go," her mother said snappishly. "But make sure you're back before your father gets home, or I'm telling him that you went without my permission. And go take a shower—boys don't like it when their girlfriends aren't clean." She added with a smirk as she grabbed her coffee and went to the living room.

Oh Merlin, was _this_ going to happen now, too? Was her mother going to hold this against her, just like Malfoy and the others did? Apparently, there was nowhere that she could have a friend and not be teased for it. In fact, her mother probably only agreed to let her visit Severus so she could have another thing to bully her about. She was just as bad as Malfoy, and definitely not any more mature.

Vesperra started walking to her room with a scowl, muttering, "He's _not_ my boyfriend—he won't care…"

Her mother apparently heard her, because she yelled from the living room, "Take one anyway, so you can wash your damn hair!"

Within the next twenty minutes, she had showered, dressed, and brushed her hair. Without waiting for her hair to dry, she picked up her journal. The conversation between her and Severus wasn't a long one.

_**Can I come over today?**_

_Of course._

Before leaving, she thought for a moment and went over to the corner of her room to pick up the stack of Lockhart's books. Though they were thin compared to the rest of her textbooks, there were seven of them and they were a lot to carry, even with both hands. So she found her now empty schoolbag and shoved all of the books inside. Then she slid her wand inside her left sleeve as usual and walked out into the sitting room.

Her mother wasn't there, which meant she was either in her room or at work. Vesperra made a mental note to watch the clock during the late afternoon so she could come back before five, since her father would be furious if she came in through the fireplace while he was home. He'd be even more furious to find out that she had gone to visit a friend from Hogwarts, since he hated anything magical and would want to deprive her of the magical world if it was within his power.

As she stepped up to the grate and took a handful of Floo powder, she felt a sudden burst of excitement. Overall it was a bit strange, since she'd never just visited a friend like this before. Sure, she'd walked to Severus's office on the weekends and sometimes other days of the week during the school year, but this was the summer. Though she'd been friends—_best_ friends—with him for about two years now, the old feeling that she'd had when she had first gotten close to him came back… She felt inclined to think of how she'd never had someone that she cared about or felt an iota of loyalty or affection for, let alone a friend. The fact that she would be casually going over to his house made their friendship seem all the more real, and made her feel like all the other kids her age. Well, sort of.

Vesperra threw the Floo powder into the fire, which immediately turned emerald green. She stepped into them, then said the name of the place that Severus told her he lived: "Spinner's End!"

And she closed her eyes and mouth as she spun through the flames.

* * *

About a minute after Vesperra had asked him if she could come over, Severus watched from his armchair as his fireplace erupted with emerald flames and she appeared in them. He folded up the _Daily Prophet_ he was reading and set it down on the table in the middle of his sitting room, and smirked when he saw the expression with which she was observing the room.

As she stepped out of his fireplace and brushed the ash off herself, she saw Severus, which triggered a smile that she didn't even try to suppress—though it reached her eyes first as it always did. But her eyes were immediately drawn to the rest of his small sitting room, and her mouth moved to make an inaudible "Woah."

All of the walls, save the front door, a single window, and the fireplace that she just stepped out of, were covered in bookshelves just as the Room of Requirement had often been when she or Severus needed it. They were from ground to ceiling, and there wasn't much space in between the books, so she could tell that his collection was quite large. The furniture in the room was threadbare and the table looked old, but she didn't care. Clearly, Severus wasn't exactly wealthy (especially since he only had a teacher's salary), and he wasn't one to care how things looked. She doubted he ever had visitors, and he was a practical man… Who cared if he didn't have the nicest place to stay for less than a fourth of the year when he wasn't at Hogwarts? Besides… she liked the whole feel that the room gave off, even though most people would have probably felt as though they were trapped in a dark, padded cell. If Severus weren't in there with her, however, it would have been difficult to imagine him in here. It was too unlike his cold, stone dungeon office back at Hogwarts, where jars of ingredients lined the shelves and the only light was candlelight and the greenish glow from the slit-like windows in the ceiling.

But as she glanced up, she saw that the chandelier was filled with lit candles, and figured that perhaps these surroundings did fit Severus somewhat. One thing that intrigued her, though, and had her looking intently at the walls and thinking for a minute, was that there weren't any doors leading to other rooms.

"Severus," said Vesperra slowly, walking further into the room, "are there doors _hidden_ in the bookshelves?" She arched an eyebrow at him, and he smirked again at her deduction skills.

"Yes, there are," he said, his eyes glittering.

Her eyes lit up again, and she took a deep breath as though to inhale the room. She walked over to his couch, set her bag down beside her, and leaned back into the surprisingly comfortable cushion—probably because of a Cushioning Charm, once again showing that he went for practicality rather than looks—as she looked at Severus. "I love your house."

"I thought you might," said Severus. He thought back to his days with Lily, and how he had never been able to bring her inside his house, since he thought she would think less of him for it being so small and for the furniture being just as tattered as his clothes were. Though she had already known that he was poor because of the fact that he lived on Spinner's End, possibly the poorest neighborhood in Mill Town, he would have been embarrassed to let her see the inside of his house. And with it reeking of his father's booze all the time… No, Lily was too pure to have to be exposed to that. His parents would never have let 'that posh little rich girl' in anyway. His father had hated that she was a witch, and his mother hated that she was Muggleborn

But he was now living alone and had changed his house since then, and Vesperra wasn't at all like Lily. He knew that she would appreciate his collection of books, and wouldn't mind how small it was or how old the furniture looked. And the doors being hidden in the shelves would obviously have been appealing to her, since they added an air of mystery.

Severus truly was glad to see her, even though he had last seen her only a few days ago. But it was weird, because he had never seen her in Muggle clothes before. Well, he'd seen her in nightclothes that resembled what Muggles wore, but at the moment, she was wearing jeans that were likely meant to be pants, but they were several sizes too short, as they showed at least four inches above her ankles. Despite this, they seemed almost baggy, because of her thin legs and waist. Her shirt was black and long-sleeved—he was sure that she always wore long-sleeved shirts, to cover up her scar; but it fit her better than the pants did. He was somewhat painfully reminded even more of himself as a child. At least it wasn't an old coat and smock.

And for the both of them, it felt strange that they weren't sitting on the same couch, since they were so used to doing so. But neither of them acknowledged it because, for some reason, Severus couldn't just get up from his chair and sit with her, even though he'd like to. He wasn't sure why… would it be _embarrassing_? Would he feel uncomfortable if she knew he preferred sitting next to her, despite the fact that she already knew that and probably preferred sitting next to him as well? Vesperra was lucky to be in her position, because even if she did have a niggling desire to go and sit on his lap, she wouldn't feel strange about not allowing herself to do that.

Noticing that Vesperra had her schoolbag next to her, Severus frowned at it. "What did you bring your bag for?"

Having expected him to ask, she smirked inwardly and, without answering, turned and opened her schoolbag, pulling out the books and setting them on her lap. Severus furrowed his brow more deeply and leaned over so he could reach the books, which required him to stand for a moment, and grabbed one. As he sat back down he looked at the cover, then glanced at the others.

"Lockhart's books?" he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"I thought we could burn them," said Vesperra in a perfectly serious, yet eager tone. At the amused smirk he gave her, she explained. "I would have just thrown them away, but I figured that it would be much more entertaining to watch Lockhart's face slowly burn to ashes."

She had sort of a malicious glint in her eyes that might have been off-putting in another situation, but seeing as it was Lockhart… Severus pursed his lips and glanced once more at the book in his hands, then said, "These books weren't cheap, I'm sure… why not sell them?"

"Are there people that would still buy them?" she scoffed, though she knew he was teasing.

"I don't suppose there are… But don't you think it's enough that he'll be insane for the rest of his life?"

Vesperra definitely was glad that Lockhart had been sent on a one-way trip to St. Mungo's, especially since she had caused it unbeknownst to everyone else, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't like to get rid of his books in a fun way. After she gave Severus a look of mock exasperation, his feigned look of seriousness broke.

"Alright," he said. "Let's burn them." Severus stood up, but then paused a moment. "I'm partial to having sort of a tribal bonfire behind the house, but the smoke would surely draw attention… We'll just use my fireplace."

As he grabbed two other books from Vesperra's lap and strode over to his fireplace, she held the rest and followed him. "Lockhart'll finally be useful," she said, leaning against the bricks of the fireplace. "He can keep your house warm."

"And once again, he's attempting to do what others could do perfectly well on their own… Times don't change, do they, Lockhart?" Frowning at the cover of Gadding with Ghouls, disgusted as ever at the toothy grin the Lockhart in the picture was flashing up at him, Severus tossed it into the grate.

Vesperra watched him lean a bit closer to the flames so he could get a good look at the edges of the book curling up and turning black before crumbling apart. The fire illuminated his face with orange light, filling what were once shadows from the dim lighting of his sitting room. It was dancing in his eyes as well, and a small smirk played upon his lips, which was easier to see in the firelight. She intended to watch the book burn but, for a minute, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

Realizing that she hadn't breathed in the past minute that she'd been staring at him, Vesperra promptly looked away and into the fire. Lockhart's grin had faded, and now his picture was looking around, scared, as the fire consumed the book. Soon, none of the book could be differentiated from ash and slightly bigger chunks that couldn't quite be called ash, but were still charred. Severus gave a small "Hm," and tossed the other two books he was holding into the grate. Following his lead, Vesperra threw the other four in, and glanced at him. As fun as it was, they weren't going to stand there for the better part of a half hour and watch them burn.

"Come on, I'll show you the rest of the house," said Severus all of a sudden, though it wasn't entirely unexpected. He put his hand in between her shoulder blades without waiting for a reply. The loss of the maliciousness in her eyes, which had been replaced by a flash of eagerness, was enough of a reply, anyway.

"There isn't much to show you, actually, but you might as well know what my house is like," he continued. As he pointed his wand at the wall opposite his armchair, a door hidden in the bookshelves flew open, revealing a short hallway with a staircase at the end. He led her through there, and didn't stop at the one door on the left, as it was just a hall closet. When they walked up the stairs, Vesperra noticed that the effect of Severus walking up them in his billowy robes was much different than Hogwarts stairs, since they were wood rather than stone.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Severus opened the door and said, "This is my room… nothing special."

It really wasn't anything special at first glance, since it seemed just to be a plain room with a semi-large bed, a nightstand, a small cabinet—where he kept some potions, Vesperra guessed; and a window at one end. In one corner, there was also a table with a cauldron sitting atop it.

"I often brew in here… when I have nothing else to occupy my time," said Severus, having seen where she was looking. At that, his hand slid from in between her shoulder blades and off her shoulder as he walked to one of the doors in the room, and pulled it open. "I take some of the ingredients from my private stores with me every summer," he explained, stepping aside to let her see.

Vesperra saw that it was much like his storeroom back at Hogwarts, but much different, once again because the walls were wood rather than stone. It held ingredients as well as potions, and seemed to have been made from a walk-in closet. She walked further in and sat on his bed, then noticed something on the right of the door that she hadn't seen when she walked in—Severus's owl in its cage.

Severus glanced at the floor, and saw a pair of underpants lying hardly feet from Vesperra. Mentally smacking himself for not having picked those up that morning, he took the time that Vesperra was looking at his owl rather than him to kick them under the bed.

Pushing herself further onto his bed, Vesperra leaned back until she was lying down. She preferred it by a mile to her own bed… It was just as comfortable, if not more, than the four-posters at Hogwarts. A second later, she sat back up to see Severus's amused smirk once again. "I like your bed," she said dryly.

"I'd have guessed that," said Severus. He watched as Vesperra's expression pulled into a slightly pensive one, then relaxed. She stood from his bed, walked over to the window, and pushed open the curtains.

She had been prepared to shut her eyes so she could get used to bright light that would shine directly in her face, but the light outside wasn't that much brighter than the light in his room. Peering outside, she saw that Spinner's End was mostly old brick houses that looked as though they had been threatening to fall to pieces for the past few decades. Vesperra didn't doubt that one of the main reasons this house was still standing was through the use of magic. The streets and sidewalks and front lawns were void of any life, and there was a certain stillness that she could feel even from inside Severus's house, giving her the feeling that there wasn't anything going on in the other houses. And she couldn't help but wonder why he lived in a place like this, surrounded by Muggles.

"How long have you lived here?" she queried, closing the curtains and walking back to Severus.

"My entire life," Severus said in a somewhat distant voice, as if he were remembering something. He sat down on his bed and Vesperra sat with him. Looking down at her over his hooked nose, he continued. "I lived here as a child, and then I inherited the house when my parents died—it was all I inherited. I hated this place so much when I was young… I _loathed_ returning here every summer. But I was able to add some things by magic… It can't erase the memories, though." At that, he scowled for all the beatings he'd received from his father here, and for every time he'd heard his parents yelling and he'd been reduced to sitting in the corner, covering his ears and crying.

Vesperra figured that Severus had had similar experiences to hers if not worse, and didn't say anything. Instead, she looked down at the bed where his right hand was resting, and laid her left hand on top of it. It wasn't for comfort, since neither of them were ones to wallow in sad memories, but just as a small gesture to show that she understood. Not that he didn't already know that. But she thought she should change the topic anyway.

"So—since you have doors hidden in bookshelves," she said, "is there anything else you've changed magically about the house?"

He had turned his head to her the moment he felt her small hand on his, and his scowl relaxed. "Not particularly—but there's no electricity anymore…" Twisting his hand around so he could grab hers, he stood up and pulled her up with him. There was nothing else of interest in his room, so he led her out of it and back down the stairs.

"The entrance to my childhood bedroom is there," he said, gesturing to the wall behind his armchair as they passed through his sitting room, "but I'd rather not show you that, to be honest…" Severus pointed his wand at the wall again, and another hidden door swung open.

The room on the other side was his kitchen and, not surprisingly, a small one. It was a bit brighter than the other rooms, since the window was larger and the curtains were open.

"I told you there wasn't much to show you…" said Severus, frowning at his kitchen. Letting go of her hand, he put his on her shoulder instead and turned to her. "Are you hungry?"

Vesperra was silent for a moment as the usual coldness of her eyes (which they had gone back to on their own when she left Severus's room) disappeared. "Yes, I am."

So Severus detached his hand from her and started taking things out of cabinets at once. In no time, he had made several sandwiches (with the aid of magic, of course), and set the plate of them on the kitchen table. Vesperra looked at him with an odd expression as he sat down with her, but then reached for one of the sandwiches at once and said a breathy "Thank you" before biting harshly into it.

"How much have you been eating?" asked Severus softly, leaning slightly over the table as he took a sandwich for himself. Furrowing his brow, he looked straight into her eyes though they were focused on her sandwich rather than him. By that, he could tell just how hungry she was.

Swallowing the bite of bread, turkey, lettuce and whatever else that she had been chewing, Vesperra threw him a side-glance and frowned. "You already know the answer to that," she said rather curtly before tearing off another bite with her teeth.

Obviously, she didn't want to talk about the way she was treated at home because she didn't want him to feel sorry for her, just as usual. And she automatically got angry about it, like he knew she would. He'd be hypocritical to blame her. But he wanted more than anything to keep her healthy, so he didn't drop it.

Taking a bite of his own sandwich, he stood up again, and said casually, "I'll make tea."

Before he could even get to the lower cabinet where his tea kettle was, Vesperra had hastily swallowed what she was chewing and stopped him. "You know you don't need to do all this, Severus—you're my friend, not my House Elf." Her voice held hints of anger and annoyance, but he knew she was truly grateful.

Stopping in his tracks, he swiveled around to face her and folded his arms across his chest. "I may be your friend, but that means that I will see to it that you aren't starving. You're welcome here anytime, and I'm going to prepare you meals if I can. Surely you don't _want_ to starve?—I know you don't, because you're eating right now. You're not a burden on me at all, if that's what you're thinking… And for the record, if I was a House Elf, I'd have started hitting my head against the wall the moment I thought you were angry with me."

With that, he bent down to get a copper teakettle from one of the bottom cupboard, and held his sandwich in his mouth while he wordlessly summoned some teabags. Vesperra watched him leave to the sitting room, once again struck by how his words would reverberate in her ears despite the fact that he hadn't raised his voice. And actually, she had felt like a burden, and she didn't want him to give her food just because he felt obligated to. But she was rather hungry, and he _was_ only trying to help her.

A few minutes later, he returned and sat down with her again, setting down a cup of tea in front of her as well as the kettle in the middle of the table and his own cup on front of him.

"Are you sure that the fact that Lockhart's books fueled the fire won't affect the taste?" said Vesperra, finishing a sandwich and reaching for her teacup. She vaguely noted how Wizards had eliminated the need for saucers by the use of a simple Cooling Charm, and even insignificant things like tea-drinking showed how inferior Muggles were.

"I would hope not," said Severus, glad that she didn't seem frustrated or annoyed with him anymore. He grimaced in mock disgust and looked into his cup. "I'll taste first, just in case." Sipping his tea with feigned caution, he smirked into his cup as his dark eyes glittered at her. When he moved the cup away from his lips, he stopped smirking, but still looked directly at her.

"It tastes fine," he said.

"Your hair hasn't become wavy and you aren't smiling like an idiot either, so I suppose it's safe."

As she drank, she smirked into her own cup, and was just as glad as Severus that all the tenseness from before had gone. But she no longer wanted to talk about Lockhart, since it would be best if they just forgot him like he forgot himself. The topic of him, however, had made her think of something else.

"Do you suppose Dumbledore will let you take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position this year?" she asked, not so much to Severus's surprise.

"No, I don't," Severus said truthfully, taking a sip of tea and pursing his lips the way he often did when he was annoyed. "The man has denied me the position for twelve years in succession—it would be foolish to have high expectations. However, it shouldn't be so unlikely this coming year, as less and less people are willing to take the position… Whether it's this year or a few years from now, Dumbledore will eventually be unable to find anyone else and I will be his only option."

His brow furrowed more deeply at this, as he hated to be anyone's 'only option', however much he desired the position.

"If it isn't you, then I hope the next one's at least better than the last two years," Vesperra admitted. "One of them with You-Know-Who on the back of his head, and the other one so full of himself it made me want to vomit… And if you _do_ end up with the job, then who would teach Potions?" She frowned at him, trying to imagine a Potions class taught by someone other than Severus.

"I'm sure Dumbledore could easily find another capable Potions Master—"

"But not as capable as _you_," she pressed. "I'd love for you to have the position you've always wanted, Severus, but Potions class just wouldn't be the same without you teaching it…"

He could understand that mixed emotions would come with this for her… She wanted him to be happy, but there would be one thing that she missed. Seizing her free hand that lay upon the table with his, he said reassuringly, "You would get used to it, just as we must get used to everything else… _if _I even manage to secure the position for myself within the next five years that you attend Hogwarts."

For a while, the two just talked and ate, until Vesperra was full and they both returned to the sitting room. This time, they sat next to each other on his couch.

"So…" said Vesperra, sinking into the comfortable couch and viewing Severus's face at an angle, "I don't have to leave until around four… not that I want to leave, either. What do you want to do? Just talk?" She honestly wouldn't mind just talking for the next few hours, but breaking the monotony would be nice. She'd like to look through some of his books…

Severus could think of several things, but one in particular came to mind and lodged itself in there. "Actually," he said slowly, "why don't we go for a walk?" Standing up, he kept her hand clutched tight in his and pulled her up as well. He took her out of the sitting room and back into the kitchen, and then pushed open the back door.

Confused as she was, Vesperra let him lead her along. "But Severus, the Muggles—"

"The few that still inhabit these streets will not see us," he assured her as they stepped outside. "Muggles are highly unobservant, as I've no doubt you've noticed."

Looking around, Vesperra saw that Severus's house was at the very end of Spinner's End, and that the sky was dominated by an old, large mill that she hadn't been able to see from his bedroom window as well as several chimneys, none of which were active. And Severus was obviously right, because several windows were boarded up or broken, and it seemed as though Severus was the only person that lived on this street.

They walked along the cobbled streets and desolate alleyways, and Vesperra had known Severus long enough not to know he wasn't just taking her for a walk—he wanted to show her something. But she didn't ask where, since he would tell her to wait until they got there. She continued to look around at the dilapidated houses, knowing that if any Muggles were to see them, they would find it a very strange sight. Severus was wearing his robes, which he never changed out for Muggle clothes, and besides the fact was holding the hand of a girl much shorter and younger than him. Then again, they might get the impression that he was her father.

Before long, they made it to a line of old railings. Severus could easily step over it, being about six feet tall, but he wasn't sure that Vesperra could. Without asking her, he swooped down to grab her by the waist and lifted her above it. Giving her a small smile, he took her hand again and continued.

She hadn't expected that, but she definitely didn't mind. And then, she saw that they were walking along a riverbank, though it was sparse with Muggle trash and there was a certain stink in the air that the breeze wafted from the river, which must have been dirty because of careless Muggles.

Severus, however, didn't notice the smell, since he had gotten used to it over the past thirty-three years. But he glanced down at Vesperra and noticed that she was frowning and wrinkling her nose, he remembered how bad the river had gradually become over the years.

"I apologize—it wasn't this bad twenty-five years ago… but not all of the river is like this."

As they walked, the overgrown grass and cattails as well as the river grew thinner, and eventually they came to a rather pleasant-looking spot, far from the mill. Patches of dirt invaded the grass, giving the area a much more weathered look than the clearing back at Hogwarts. This part of the river was more of a stream, and looked much cleaner. There wasn't any Muggle trash around, either. And a large tree stood near the edge, one of its larger branches hanging over the river.

"Years before I even started Hogwarts," said Severus as he slowly walked over to the tree and put a hand on it, "I used to sneak out of the house and come here… sometimes to relax, and other times… to get away." He then slid down the trunk and sat on the grass, leaning against it and, since he was still clutching her hand, Vesperra had no choice but to sit down with him. "Do you have a place you can get away to?"

"I had my backyard, but that's it… Although it's rather large, so I could get a good distance away from my house." Vesperra decided not to mention that fact that she never snuck outside anymore or that her father had thrown a fit the last time she did.

"Well, now you have my house." Severus looked down at her, noticing a smile that reached only her eyes.

The faint sound of the breeze attempting to detach leaves from the tree they were sitting under and of stream water trickling over rock was quite relaxing as they talked. They sat cross-legged while leaning against the trunk, and their knees overlapped. Fingers intertwined, their hands rested on the knees in between them, and often moved as either of them made hand gestures, or just to fill the comfortable silences with childish entertainment.

And Severus really did feel like a child doing this—sitting cross-legged near this stream and talking with his friend… but he didn't care. This was much different from the clearing at Hogwarts, because it didn't bring back painful memories. He had come here in the past more often alone than with Lily—but that was mostly because he had usually come here when he had been beaten so badly that he didn't want Lily to see him. She had only known about this place because one day, she had come looking for him. Lily had found him so bloodied up from his father's punches and whip lashes from his belt that he was almost unrecognizable… and she had immediately taken to wiping the blood off with her handkerchief, rinsing it out in the stream and dabbing his bruises. He had been so embarrassed that day… but he couldn't have been more grateful for a friend like Lily. Now, he was just as grateful for a friend like Vesperra.

After that day, he and Lily had spent some days during the summer here, usually doing their summer homework or doing just what he and Vesperra were doing now. Severus had still liked to come here alone, though, and Lily had respected when he wanted to be alone. Rather than a place filled with memories of good times that he had spent with Lily, it was a place that calmed him down, since there was no life except for the small fish in the stream and the occasional fox or squirrel, and since it was in the town that he had grown up in but the stink of the mill was far away. He didn't associate Lily with the stream as much, so he had continued to come here sometimes, even years after her death. And he knew Vesperra would like it, since she needed a place like this.

The breeze picked up a bit of speed after a while, and Severus looked over to see Vesperra's hair flying in her face and her sputtering to get the hair out of her mouth. Smirking, he used his free hand to move her hair behind her neck.

"Perhaps you should tie your hair back," he teased.

"Perhaps you should tie _your_ hair back," she retaliated, smirking at the thought of Severus with his long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"I'll tie my hair back when Potter is awarded for his potion-making skills," sneered Severus. But then he noticed something that had been hidden by her lank hair and brought to his attention by the sunlight that leaked into the shade through the gaps in the leaves. He brought his left hand, which was still holding hers, up to her face, and brushed her cheekbone with his thumb. "You've a bruise on your cheek, Vesperra." It wasn't obvious, but he could see that the skin on her cheekbone was a bit darker and almost bluish.

Vesperra hadn't thought there'd still be a mark from where her father had hit her, but he had smacked her pretty hard… But she didn't want to tell Severus, so she quickly invented a lie, which she felt she told rather well, even with his eyes staring directly into hers. "I was getting something from under a table, but—you know, forgot the table was there when I was standing up, and it hit right at the edge."

She appeared calm when she said it, and it was a common thing that could have happened to anyone, but he didn't quite believe her. It was from one of her parents hitting her, and he knew it… but he didn't say anything. He let it go, and let his hand drop from her face as he gave hers a squeeze.

For much of the afternoon, they stayed under that tree and talked when things came to mind, and when there was nothing to say, they enjoyed the calm silence. During one of the pauses, Vesperra's eyes suddenly widened slightly and she squeezed Severus's hand very hard.

"Severus, what time is it?"

Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a pocket watch that he had kept tucked away. "Nearly four—"

Vesperra immediately stood up and, since he was much bigger than her, wasn't able to pull him up. But he voluntarily stood a moment later anyway. "We should get back," she said regretfully. "My father doesn't know I'm here, and if I got home when he was—" She scowled, not wanting to think about it.

Understanding completely, Severus started walking and didn't ask questions. "I could take you by Side-along Apparition," he suggested.

"Oh—no, that's fine…" said Vesperra. "I'd prefer not to experience that feeling more than twice a year… My father normally gets home around five, but I'd rather not risk it."

Severus knew how unpleasant the feeling of Side-along Apparition was, but he would hate to get her in trouble with the scum so undeserving to be her father. If he caused her to get a beating, he would hate himself. So he walked faster, to which Vesperra didn't object.

When they returned to his sitting room, Vesperra let go of Severus and grabbed her now-empty schoolbag. He sat down on his couch and gave her a half-smile, wishing she didn't have to leave but at the same time thankful, because the sooner she left, the sooner she could come back.

"Bye," he said as she moved away from the couch and toward his fireplace.

"Bye, Severus," said Vesperra with a half-smile to match his. She took a pinch of Floo powder from the bowl on the mantle of his fireplace, threw it into the flames, and stepped into them as they turned green. "Nottingham Court!"

And she was gone.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Vesperra visited Severus once or twice each week. She tried to ration the Floo powder so that they didn't run out—her mother would undoubtedly be able to afford more, but she didn't want to make her angry. Each of the days she spent at Severus's house, she had been lucky enough to evade her father's notice, and hoped that he never would notice in the years to come.

During her time spent at his house, Severus had shown her some of the rarer and more interesting books of his collection, some of which were in Latin or Runic. Apparently, a good number of his books were also cursed—which was what had them both initially interested in them, but only he knew exactly which ones were dangerous, so he had told her not to pull any of the books out without him knowing.

He had also brought her to the place by the stream a couple more times, and no longer even asked before making her sandwiches or soup or whatever else, since he knew for a fact she'd be hungry. And they brewed potions in his room just for the heck of it, some of which were ones that he said would be on the curriculum for her third year. Vesperra had quickly grown accustomed to Severus's house, and would honestly love to live there.

In the few days' gaps in between visits, she endured the usual from her parents, but it was much easier to deal with, knowing that she had Severus to look forward to. She also worked on her summer homework, which she finished a couple days into July. That would have left her bored the days that she wasn't at Severus's house if he hadn't lent her a couple of his books that he knew she would find interesting.

And her mother, of course, relentlessly teased her whenever she could about Severus being her 'boyfriend'—mostly about how she would never have expected Vesperra to attract a boy, or to even take an interest in boys. After all, she had never displayed any signs of knowing what love or compassion was. To that, she had replied in anger, "Well, neither have _you_," and earned herself a sharp whip-like hit across the face—from her mother's wand rather than her hand, because she was on the other side of the room. It _would_ have been across her back, but Vesperra had expected her mother to aim the spell at her face and ducked, which caused it to hit her face anyway.

As they moved further into July, the days grew warmer, though not as warm in Stoneyard as it would have been in other places, as they were near the coast. There was one thing that occurred in the middle of July which she normally wouldn't even have remembered, but now she actually looked forward to it, as it would automatically warrant a visit with Severus—her birthday.

* * *

Severus spent his days differently. On his unfortunately Vesperra-free days, he either brewed alone or indulged himself in a book that he's already read. Occasionally he took a trip to Diagon or Knockturn Alley to see if he could find a book worthy for his collection or some rarer potion ingredients. He didn't have any planned expeditions for exotic plants this summer, but he still wanted to procure enough Antimony to replace the vial that was stolen from him. So far, he had had no luck in getting any. He would likely have to go straight to an alchemist or else find Muggle scientists again, neither of which would be easy or cheap.

But when it neared the twelfth of July, he started thinking about what Vesperra would like. She was no longer a stranger to decent meals, so he wouldn't get her a cake again—besides, he didn't want to repeat presents. It would have to be something practical, though, something she could use… And surprisingly, it didn't take very much effort to think of the perfect gift for her.

* * *

Her mother left the house before Vesperra could ask her, so she decided that she didn't really need permission. If she came home before her daughter did, she would know where Vesperra had gone and wouldn't care, anyway. Even if her mother did care, that was a risk Vesperra was willing to take—the consequences couldn't possibly be worse than what had happened on her last birthday.

So she took the Floo network to his house, feeling like his company would be enough of a present, though she knew that Severus would have gone to the trouble of doing something more for her.

* * *

Sitting long-ways on the couch with his legs outstretched in front of him, Severus watched the fireplace. No sooner than he expected, Vesperra appeared in a column of green flame, and stepped out. He greeted her with a smile and turned his legs so he was sitting properly, patting the space next to him.

"Happy Birthday," he said as she sat down next to him. "And I'm sure you already know this, but I have a present for you—two, actually."

She frowned. "Two? Severus, you—"

"_Relax…_" Raising his wand, Severus summoned a scarlet bag. It flew gracefully into his hand from the mantelpiece, and he handed it to her. "The first thing is for both of us—I suspected you may be close to running out."

First giving him a questioning look, she untied the string and opened the bag. It was full of glittery, silver powder. As she looked back up at him, he went on, "So you'll have enough to last you through the summer, and can still visit me as often as you have been. I would have bought it anyway, but it seemed more fitting to give it to you on your birthday, since it was so near."

Vesperra retied the bag of Floo powder and set it in her lap. "Th—"

"Don't thank me yet, that wasn't even your real present…" said Severus, shaking his head slightly. Then, with his eyes fixated on hers, he said silkily, "You prefer to keep your wand in your sleeve rather than your pocket, correct?"

Unsure where this was going, she narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

"A rather ingenious idea, I've always thought… I'd wonder why others don't do the same, but it seems to be difficult—how do you keep your wand in your sleeve without it sliding out?"

"Oh—well, I normally have two fingers holding my wand at all times, so I can still use my left hand… But if there's something I need the full use of both my hands for, I just set my wand aside for a moment…"

One side of his mouth raised itself in an approving smirk, and he reached a hand inside his robes. "You won't need to do that anymore," he said. He then pulled out of his robe pocket what looked like a long, black tube with a longer back than the front, closed on one end, and made of—no, it couldn't be dragon hide… "Do you have your wand with you?"

"Of course," said Vesperra, pulling it out slowly. "W—?"

Without saying anything, Severus lightly brushed his free hand on the palm of the hand that she was holding her wand with, and held her wand in between his thumb and forefinger. She let go of it, and he took it, then slid it into the tube of thick fabric he held in his other hand. It fit perfectly but for two inches that her wand was visible, but that had been intentional. Still without speaking, he slid the tube into her sleeve, its back to the part opposite her inner forearm.

He pointed his own wand at it, and muttered, "_Cohaero_." When he let go, the tube stuck. "As you must have guessed, it's a wand holster—but for your sleeve. I created it myself, and charmed it so your wand can't fall out of it—_you_ have to take it out." Severus paused and raised his eyebrows, waiting for her reaction.

Observing his handiwork, Vesperra smiled in awe. After a few seconds, she looked from her sleeve to him. "Severus, how long did this take you?" she said with what could be interpreted as both gratitude and admiration.

Severus smiled as well, glad that she was happy about it. "Not too long, actually. I merely adjusted a normal wand holster, duplicated it, and added several charms…" Noticing that she had raised her eyebrows at 'duplicated,' he added, "Yes, there's several,"—he pulled at least five more, identical independent wand holsters out of his robe pocket—"because you don't wear the same shirt or robes everyday, and I'd think that you wouldn't want to go to the trouble of removing the wand holster every night and attaching it to whatever you put on the next morning. And speaking of which, it's a very simple Sticking Charm—so simple even Lockhart might have been able to do it when he was still somewhat sane… Well, probably not."

He went on to explain how to use the Sticking and Unsticking Charms, which took no time at all, and then handed Vesperra the rest of the wand holsters. For a moment, she didn't know what to say to him, so she just looked at him.

"Severus, you're… _amazing_. Thank you," she finally said.

"I wouldn't call myself _amazing_…" argued Severus, though he couldn't hide the glint in his eyes. "You could have easily thought of this yourself—"

"But I didn't—_you_ did. You've just made my life easier… and relieved me of finger cramps in the future," Vesperra added.

"Well, I'd hope that these will save you from more than finger cramps," said Severus seriously. "It should be easier to draw out your wand as quickly as possible now, so you should always have the upper hand against anyone that ever tries to hex—or curse—you. I'd have one myself, but I already have the upper hand in any duel besides my skill—Legilimency."

It may have not been the best idea to mention that, as he knew Vesperra would become even more interested into learning that art, but in retrospect, it didn't matter. She wouldn't press the matter of learning it, and there was no way she could learn it from anyone but him.

After a somewhat sharp intake of air, Vesperra said, "So you always know what spell someone's about to use seconds before they use it?"

"Precisely."

Rather than continuing with the subject, she simply smirked, then reached for his hand and squeezed it, proud to be the friend of one of the most skilled wizards in Britain—or at least, she figured he must be.

Severus was a little relieved when she didn't mention Legilimency and instead, just leaned into him. And when he asked her if she wanted tea or anything to eat, she didn't hesitate in the slightest.

While she watched Severus prepare the tea, Vesperra tried to take in the fact besides the gift that he had given her—she was _thirteen_ now. Turning twelve hadn't mattered to her, but she was now a teenager. No one could consider her a child anymore (not that Severus ever did), and her body would finally start growing more to catch up with her brain.

In spite of her usual apathy concerning age, she was glad to have turned thirteen. And she was glad to spend the day with her best and only friend. It was the only birthday she'd ever had where nothing had gone bad. No fights, no yelling, no starving, no being alone… And, if nothing else, it was a good day.

* * *

**Well, that was a little shorter than usual, but I felt it was a good place to stop. Especially since it'll make a stark contrast with the next chapter, where things will start to get serious. Or should I say, _Sirius_. **

**I hope you guys enjoyed Vesperra's first day spent at Severus's house and birthday, because she definitely did. **

**Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaassseee Review. Please.**


	30. Book 3: Chapter 2

**Once again, it didn't take me that long to update! In fact, I would have updated last night, but I still had to read over this chapter for mistakes and my teeth were really hurting because of my braces. It was so easy to write because I've had this chapter in mind for a really long time. It's long, like I promised, so enjoy!**

* * *

With the gift that Severus had given her, Vesperra half-wished that something would happen that would require her to defend herself so she'd have the chance to pull out her wand with lightning speed. But she felt childish wishing that, and even more childish whipping her wand out while she was alone for the heck of it.

She had attached the wand holsters to the sleeves of her other few shirts as soon as she got home, and dumped the bag of Floo powder in the pot where her mum kept theirs. Her wand was a bit longer than her forearm, which still limited her left arm's range of motion if she didn't want her wand sticking out in her sleeve, but she didn't mind.

The days passed as July came to a close, and Vesperra decided that this hadn't been so bad of a summer at all so far. She was actually being kept up to date with what was going on in the Wizarding world thanks to Severus, since he had told her anything important he learned from the Daily Prophet. Most of the stories were the latest scandals publicized by Rita Skeeter, who was famous for being as self-absorbed as Gilderoy Lockhart and getting away with making even Ministry officials look bad, new allegations from the Ministry of Magic, or international affairs that Vesperra couldn't care less about. But there had been an article about the newest and so far the most advanced racing broom—the _Firebolt_, and another about the Weasleys winning seven-hundred Galleons in an annual draw and spending it on a trip to Egypt. Briefly, Vesperra wondered what Severus would have done with seven-hundred Galleons if he had entered and won. Most likely he'd purchase some rare potion ingredients, and the first would be a vial of Antimony.

One morning very near the end of July, Vesperra was awoken by the familiar sound of tapping at her bedroom window. Her eyes flew open and, without having to turn from her position—facing away from the window—she knew at once that her Hogwarts letter had come and completely forgot how sore her back felt from her stiff bed. Heart thumping eagerly, she quickly rolled over to lie on her back and her torso shot upwards so that she was sitting. Vesperra hurried to unlock her window and push it open so the gray, speckled owl with particularly large eyes could hop in with a flutter of its wings.

As she untied the parchment envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest from the owl's leg, she noticed that it was thicker than the other letters had been. Once it was free, the owl gave a soft hoot and flew back out the window. Vesperra shut the window a bit too loudly in her excitement, and immediately slit open the top of the envelope. Pulling out the first page of parchment, she also noticed that the note was longer than usual.

_Dear Ms. D'Monicas,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.  
__Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parents or guardian to sign.  
__A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,  
__Professor McGonagall  
__Deputy Headmistress_

Vesperra had forgotten about Hogsmeade… Like most of the other third-years would be, she was glad to be able to visit the only entirely Wizarding village in Britain. Granted, she didn't know much about it, and Malfoy would be free to antagonize her without the fear of teachers catching him, but she could evade him much more easily as well. It would, however, be quite crowded with almost the whole of Hogwarts there at once, and she hated being surrounded by so many people… But no witch or wizard could resist the allure of Hogsmeade, especially not the first time around.

She pulled out the other two sheets of parchment, and just looked at the Hogsmeade form for a minute. Would her mother even sign it? There shouldn't be any reason for her not to… But having been raised (or lack thereof) by the woman, Vesperra knew her to be hateful and cruel, and wouldn't put it past her to deny her daughter of the pleasure of going to Hogsmeade just for the sake of seeing her tremendously disappointed. What her mother didn't know, however, was that Vesperra was friends with her own Head of House at Hogwarts, and he would allow her to go to Hogsmeade without a form, or even sign it himself. Dumbledore would surely be fine with that, as he seemed to want Severus and Vesperra to maintain a close relationship, and would therefore see him as more of a guardian than either of her parents.

So there was nothing to worry about, and nothing to lose by asking her mother. Before leaving her room to check to see if she was even home, Vesperra took a quick look at the last sheet of parchment, on which was her booklist for the coming year. There were the obvious ones that she'd need, like _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_ and

_Intermediate Transfiguration_, and they were apparently using_ Recognizing and Fighting the Untamed_ for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. That meant that Dumbledore had already hired a new DADA teacher, and Vesperra highly doubted it was Severus. She also needed _The Monster Book of Monsters_, presumably for Care of Magical Creatures, and a couple different runic dictionaries for Ancient Runes.

Folding that back up and setting it aside, Vesperra grabbed her Hogsmeade permission form and left her bed to quietly leave her room. The sitting room was empty, and the house was silent.

"Mum?" she called. There was no answer, and it slightly echoed back at her, so no one must have been home. Not minding that she might have to wait a few days before getting her form signed or going to Diagon Alley for her school things, she returned to her room and grabbed her journal to write the usual message;

_**Do you mind if I come over right now?**_

_I was just about to write and ask the same of you—Yes, please come over. _

A little surprised and wondering why exactly he had wanted her specifically to come over today, she put a clean (or at least she was pretty sure it was clean) shirt on as well as a pair of pants and her tight shoes that she was quickly growing out of. Sliding her wand into the holster within her left sleeve with a slight smirk, she went back out to the sitting room and made the now routine motion of throwing Floo powder into the grate and stepping inside.

* * *

Severus stared at the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ with overwhelming anger growing inside of him. He hadn't blinked for several minutes as his fathomless black eyes took in the title across the top of the page in thick, black letters, and then the article below it. Well, he didn't necessarily read the entire article, since his mind was too clouded with shock and anger to focus on anything else just yet, but he caught several phrases—'previously believed to be impossible,' 'no sightings yet,' 'urge the Wizarding world not to panic'…

After he finally read the entire thing, he remembered Vesperra, and how important it was that she know this—for her own safety. Just as he was about to dip his quill in ink, a message from her appeared as if being written by an invisible hand. He wrote back, and then waited, still angry and unable to name all the other emotions he felt at this news. When she appeared in his fireplace minutes later, he changed his scowl into a grimace, and beckoned her over to the couch.

* * *

"Severus, what—?"

Impatient, he leaned forward and grabbed her forearm, pulling her to the couch so she sat down a couple seconds earlier than he would have. He then handed her the _Daily Prophet_, and said, "Here, read it," struggling to control the anger in his voice and hoping she hadn't gotten the impression that he was angry at her.

Taking it from him, Vesperra glanced at Severus's face once more before turning her attention to the _Prophet_. The picture was what first grabbed her attention, which was a man with long, dirty hair, a short beard that was just as unkempt, and deeply sunken eyes in his thin, gaunt face. She didn't recognize him, but it could only have been Sirius Black, as the headline was:

SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN

Vesperra's eyes moved along the article as she read aloud, though she didn't realize that she was doing so.

"'_Mass murderer Sirius Black, notorious for killing Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles in a Muggle-inhabited street and for his lifetime sentence to Azkaban, has, by means unknown, made it past the Dementors and the impenetrable fortress that is Azkaban prison. He escaped last night, and there have been no signs_…'"

Severus listened, scowling, as the words seemed much more real when said aloud. Vesperra's own voice grew grimmer and grimmer as she read on and, when she had finished reading, she bore a similar expression to Severus's, though not quite as angry.

Letting her hands and the newspaper to fall to her lap, Vesperra looked straight ahead, though her eyes were unfocused, as she was in deep thought. According to the _Daily Prophet_, this man, Sirius Black, had been one of Voldemort's most loyal followers. She knew what this meant—it meant that the Wizarding world was in danger until Black was caught, and this would definitely _not_ be an easy year at Hogwarts if he wasn't caught soon.

Slowly, she turned to Severus. His nostrils were flared, and his eyes were full of intense, yet controlled fury. And his lips were twisted into a scowl unlike anything she'd ever seen on his face. "Severus, Black wouldn't be able to get into Hogwarts, would he?"

"If he can break out of Azkaban, he may be able to sneak into Hogwarts as well," said Severus after taking a deep breath. Since he was unable to keep the hatred out of his eyes, he didn't look at her for more than a few seconds at a time, as he didn't want to look at her with those feelings clouding his gaze. "If he even attempts to sneak into Hogwarts, that is. But just as the Ministry believes, I am sure he intends to seek out the Dark Lord and return him to full power…"

He spoke with dread, she noticed, dread as deep and horrible as Vesperra was feeling. And then, she felt something click in her mind—_Black, Black… I remember that name…_ Nearly a year ago, she had been in the Hogwarts library, researching family trees and attempting to find something about the Lestranges, and she had succeeded in that attempt… And she remembered that, before marrying her mother's cousin, Rodolphus, Bellatrix's surname was Black.

"That man was Bellatrix's cousin, wasn't he, Severus?" she asked suddenly.

Startled by this question, Severus's scowl twitched. Hardly moving his lips, he said, "Yes."

She immediately scowled. "The Death Eater thing seems to run in families…"

Realizing what she must be thinking, he turned to her and squeezed her arm. "It doesn't," he said firmly. "_Don't_ compare yourself to that—" He couldn't think of a word foul enough for that man. "You're hardly related, anyway, it's only distant second cousins…"

Vesperra let out a short sigh. "Well, it's not as if either of us can do anything… is it? Or will Dumbledore want y—"

Cutting her off was a sudden rushing sound, and both of them whipped their heads toward Severus's fireplace, in which emerald flames had appeared. Half a second later, none other than Albus Dumbledore himself stepped out. He cleaned off all the ash from his robes and the floor with a snap of his fingers and, though he seemed calm, his eyes held a grim look, unmistakable even from several feet away. He looked like he had been about to speak, but then he noticed that Vesperra was in the room, and flashed a brief smile at her.

"I apologize for showing up unannounced, Severus," said Dumbledore, stepping closer to them but not sitting down. "But I can see that you have very recently read about the situation yourself, so surely you understand that it is urgent. I would have come earlier, as I was told of the escape by the Minister before the _Daily Prophet_ was, but I was held up by dealings in the Wizengamot—I do hope that I'm not interrupting anything."

The Headmaster looked back and forth between them, and then Severus said, "You were, but I'm guessing that you're here to speak to me about something much more important."

"I am," Dumbledore said as he nodded solemnly. "But I must also inform you—of which Miss D'Monicas may have guessed, as she would have received her Hogwarts letter this morning—that I have finally found a replacement Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Once again, I apologize for the delay in giving you that information, but it was decided merely hours prior to Sirius Black's escape."

There was a pregnant pause, but it may have merely felt long because of the added frustration and suspense that both Severus and Vesperra were feeling. It was, however, overwhelmed by the confusion, anger, and dread he felt about Sirius Black having escaped so that he cared much less about not getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

"Who?" said Severus shortly, his voice sounding more nasal than usual in his rising temper.

"Remus Lupin," said Dumbledore calmly. And suddenly, Severus cared a lot more about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

"_Him?_" he said incredulously, letting go of Vesperra's arm and standing up abruptly. "You're letting _him_ teach at Hogwarts?"

Vesperra watched as Severus hunched over slightly, his arms and fingers outstretched as he stood with a stance that made it seem as though he might have attacked Dumbledore, who was remaining perfectly calm as usual. She was confused, as she didn't know who Remus Lupin was or why Severus was so angry about him, and she was annoyed and somewhat frustrated that they seemed to have forgotten that she was in the room.

Dumbledore must have either sensed her frustration or read her mind, because he said, "Severus, I do not believe this is appropriate to discuss in front of Miss D'Monicas, who must be thoroughly confused at this point. I would like to not waste anymore time, and instead discuss the matter of Sirius Black with you as soon as possible." He then turned to Vesperra. "I do not mean to take Severus from you, Miss D'Monicas, so I hope you don't mind that I must speak to him alone. It concerns matters that I am not sure Severus would like to share with you; but if he has changed his mind, then he may tell you whatever he pleases when we are finished. I don't know for sure how long we will be—that partly depends on Severus, but I assure you it won't take long."

Vesperra frowned. _Changed his mind about what?_ she thought, but she didn't voice it. She was disappointed that her conversation with Severus would be cut short, but she understood that this was an important issue and she would be less confused about it all once Severus came back and explained what he didn't mind telling her, so she nodded.

Severus was glaring at the old codger, slightly cocking his head. Did he really have to say all _that_ to Vesperra? Was it _really_ necessary? Still annoyed, he tore his eyes from Dumbledore and turned to Vesperra.

He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Vesperra, but I have—"

"It's fine, I understand," she said. "Go."

"You can stay here and… entertain yourself. I don't know. Feel free to eat whatever… Again, I'm sorry. I'll return." With that, he squeezed her shoulder and let go, striding across the room to Dumbledore. He made a swift gesture with his left arm and pointed to his fireplace, motioning for the Headmaster to go before him. Vesperra watched as Dumbledore took his cue and walked to the fireplace, leaving in a rush of green flames. Immediately after, Severus stepped in and, still scowling, did the same.

* * *

"Please sit, Severus," said Dumbledore after they Flooed to his office in Hogwarts. Severus obliged, and Dumbledore did the same. As they sat across from each other, the Headmaster folded his hands in front of him, looking very grim. Probably to avoid tense silence, he spoke immediately.

"There is information concerning Sirius Black's escape that Fudge is keeping from the general public. I find it important for all of Hogwarts's staff to know, especially you, Severus, but that is not for being a member of the staff." Dumbledore took a deep breath, then continued in a different, slow voice, appearing to be surveying Severus through his half-moon glasses all the while. "The Azkaban guards have told Cornelius that Black has been talking in sleep for a while now, saying 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' As Black had been working for Voldemort and lost everything the night he was destroyed, both Cornelius and I have come to the conclusion that he has escaped to kill Harry Potter."

At that, Dumbledore paused, presumably to let it sink in. It actually wasn't difficult to believe, since it didn't come as a surprise. Two years ago, Severus had had to protect Potter from Quirrell and, though he didn't know it at first, Voldemort. Just last year, he had tried to protect the boy from Voldemort yet again, but that time it had ultimately been a book that Potter needed protection from. And a Basilisk. Both those times, Potter had faired well on his own, through the use of help from more talented witches and wizards and pure luck. And now, Severus apparently had to protect the boy from the extremely mad, extremely dangerous mass murderer, Sirius Black.

His expression hardened, the lines of his face becoming more obvious and the depth of his eyes increasing. His already very pale and sallow face became paler as the blood left it to be replaced with pure dread. This was, no doubt, going to prove much more difficult than it had been the past couple years. Now, they knew for sure that Sirius Black wanted to kill Potter and, like he had told Vesperra, if he could break out of Azkaban, he would likely be able to break into Hogwarts as well. And if Black killed him, that would end the purpose of Severus's life. He could _not_ let Lily's son be killed… especially not by _him_.

"The Ministry is currently doing all that they can to recapture Black," Dumbledore went on. "I have invoked a few of my own sources. Now, I believe you have certain contacts—non-imprisoned ex-Death Eaters—that may help us if Black has sought refuge after escaping—"

"I do," Severus interrupted in an almost hollow voice, barely moving his lips, "but none of them would be of any help. No one ever even knew that Black was the spy—not even me, and I was the Dark Lord's right-hand man… That was one thing the Dark Lord kept secret from all of us. I would suggest that the Aurors interrogate Lucius Malfoy, but I would not get any more information out of him than they could."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, looking distant for a moment. He came back to the present a few seconds later. "For now, all we can do is rely on the Ministry, and hope that they manage to capture him. If they do not capture him within the month, then I will resort to stationing Dementors around Hogwarts, and there will, of course, be more strict rules on curfew during the school year. The rest of the staff would be informed of Harry Potter being in danger as well and, if it comes down to that, I'd trust them to do their best to keep him safe whenever possible. At the moment, Harry is safe in his aunt and uncle's house on Privet Drive. You need not worry until danger seems imminent, Severus. Although I doubt I need to tell you to be on your guard, and to inform me of any leads you may have in the future."

This calmed him down a considerable amount, and made him feel like he had been paranoid for having felt so much dread in the first place, when he looked at it logically. With the entire Auror department searching and Dementors being allowed to search as well, Black's recapture would have to be soon. And like last year, there was nothing he could do, anyway. Well, for the moment. But the chances that Black could harm Potter were very slim. All they could do was wait. There was still the vague sense of dread that supplied every 'what-if' question possible, but he had suffered that the past few years when Potter was in constant danger and therefore was unsurprised to feel it. He still hated it, though.

"And Lupin?" spat Severus, wanting to get it out of the way so he could leave. "Why did you appoint _him?_"

"You know, Severus, that people willing to take the Defense post are scarce—close to nonexistent… He is both very knowledgeable in the subject and in need of a job. You could say that we're doing each other a favor."

"Scarce, and yet there's a man _very_ willing to take the position sitting across from you!" he said angrily.

"You are not an option, Severus," Dumbledore said in a finalizing tone, so that Severus wouldn't press the subject.

"Besides the fact, Albus, Lupin is a _werewolf_, in case you've forgotten. And he was once the friend of the murderer that's after Potter—do you really think it's _wise_ to let him in the castle?"

Dumbledore merely sighed, not acknowledging Severus's intense, questioning glare. "I have not yet gone senile, Severus, I do remember that he is a werewolf. That is the main reason why he was unable to find a job anywhere else, and I am willing to help him. I know his… _condition_ will not make him a danger to anyone, as he is in much better control of it than other werewolves."

"_Control?_" said Severus, scowling deeper, his eye twitching. "He and his friends once played a trick on me that would have resulted in him _eating_ me, and he was fully aware of what he was doing! How can you trust him?"

"He was also a member of the Order, Severus, if you didn't recall. As cruel of a trick that was, he has matured since then. Remus would not help a murderer evade capture, nor would harm Harry. Of that, I am sure."

Severus wasn't convinced. He still didn't trust the werewolf, and the fact that Lupin had been in the Order didn't convince him in the least bit, since Black was in the Order as well, but he had betrayed them. He believed that Dumbledore trusted too easily and foolishly, and that beasts couldn't be trusted. But he knew that arguing would be futile, as the Headmaster would have none of it.

Before Severus could say anything, Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't paused at all. "In addition, Severus, to ensure the students' and staff's safety, I would like you to brew the Wolfsbane potion for Remus every month during the school year. I know that you are capable, and it will make sure that he isn't a danger to anyone. Also, the knowledge that he is a werewolf must remain a secret from the students—most students, at least. I know you will tell Miss D'Monicas regardless of what I tell you. But that is all I ask of you."

Yeah, that was _all_ Dumbledore asked of him… aside from protecting a boy who wanted nothing more than to put himself and others in danger. Severus's anger was still building, and he wanted to tell Dumbledore that he would do no such thing for Lupin of all people, but he didn't. Besides, that was just his grudge talking… He needed to keep the children—especially Potter—safe from that werewolf, and he couldn't necessarily see this as a favor…

"Fine," said Severus.

"Well then, Severus, I believe there is nothing more to say for the moment. I shall leave it to you to explain what you wish to Miss D'Monicas—or to not explain anything at all."

As he stood up, the entire conversation and all the delayed shock and anger hit him at once. He suddenly wished that Vesperra hadn't come over, because he didn't want her to witness him this angry. But only about half of it was actual anger. The rest of it was vindictiveness, the kind of anger that he wanted to feel, and anger that he felt to hide his dread and fear. And she needed to know… _some_ things. Not everything. So, with a tremendous headache coming on, he stood from his chair and silently walked to Dumbledore's fireplace. Giving the man a sharp nod of goodbye, he threw some Floo powder into the fire.

* * *

In the time that Severus was gone, Vesperra simply turned to lay long-ways on his couch, folded her hands over her stomach, and waited for him to come back. She had her own thoughts, swimming rapidly inside her head and avoiding capture, to keep her busy—not so much entertained, but she was busy.

First, there was Sirius Black, a man she hadn't even heard of before today, who had escaped from Azkaban when it was supposed to be impossible. He was mad, he was dangerous, and he was powerful enough to kill thirteen people with one curse. How long would it be before they caught him? How many people would he murder before then? And would he manage to find Voldemort and bring him back to power, like she and Severus feared? It was an awful sense of dread, worse than she'd ever felt before, that even though she knew the Ministry had the best Aurors after Black, everything could only go wrong.

And then, Vesperra was confused about Severus's behavior towards the news. Rather than controlled fear, he had been filled with unmistakable anger. What could possibly have made him so angry that this man had escaped? He couldn't just be hiding his fear with anger… it was more than that.

And this Remus Lupin… Severus seemed to hate him. Or rather, not think he was fit to teach. She wasn't sure, but this was the least of her worries, and she knew Severus would explain once he returned. With that, she became impatient, but she really didn't have to wait very long.

* * *

When Severus stepped into his sitting room once again, he didn't even bother brushing the ash off his robes as she walked over to Vesperra. He didn't know how to start off, but luckily, she saw to it that he didn't have to.

"Severus, why were you so angry earlier?—About Sirius Black, I mean… You seemed angry as if… it were on a personal level," she asked shamelessly, hoping he wouldn't refuse to tell her. Because truthfully, she wasn't as angry as he seemed to be and she needed to know why.

The few seconds of silence as he simply looked at her afterwards made Vesperra think that she'd said that too bluntly, or asked him too much, and she leaned further away from him, slightly uncomfortable. But Severus was actually glad she had asked that, because he hadn't yet an excuse to tell her this. And his lips twitched involuntarily in an attempt to smirk as he usually did when Vesperra proved to have too good observational skills for her own good.

"It… it is personal," he said in sort of a growl, though trying to calm down for Vesperra's sake. He apparently surprised her by actually responding, because she immediately ceased recoiling from him and stared at him expectantly. Sighing and clearing his throat, he continued, trying to keep his voice even and the anger out of it. "Sirius Black was in my year at Hogwarts… He was part of a group of boys who styled theirselves 'the Marauders' and made it their life purpose to make sure that I was miserable. Well, not necessarily miserable, but they hexed me every chance they got, humiliated me in front of everyone, made the rest of the school hate me if they didn't already…" Severus had hesitated to tell her the details of that, since he didn't want her to feel sorry for him, but the words had come out in a rant as his voice and anger gradually rose. Glancing down at her, he saw that she was frowning, and was looking down as well rather than at him. Clearly she was reflecting on the fact that things weren't so different for her.

Pausing to take a breath and keep his voice calm again, Severus went on. "Aside from Sirius Black, that gang of boys consisted of James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew." At this, he took a deliberate pause to let her react, as he was sure she would.

Vesperra couldn't hide her shock at that information—not that she wanted to. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped, and every muscle of her face was pulled back. Her brow furrowed as she tried to process it. It was now obvious why Severus didn't want Lupin to teach, that didn't need to be questioned, but what hit her like a sack of bricks was the fact that James Potter was involved.

"James _Potter_—Potter's _father_ tortured you as a kid?" said Vesperra. "You never told me that…" They had discussed their reasons for hating Potter a long time ago and a few times in passing since then, and they had nearly all the same reasons—he was famous for something he got by luck, he thought he was above the rules, he didn't respect authority, everybody loved him for having a bad childhood while _they_ were hated… But Severus hadn't mentioned that he had hated Potter's father. That was a perfectly good reason to hate the younger Potter…

_I wouldn't call it 'tortured'—actually, I would,_ thought Severus. He appreciated her choice of words, and how accurate she was despite the fact that she didn't even know the half of it yet.

"No," Severus sighed, "I didn't tell you that. And I apologize, because it's by far the largest reason for my unconditional loathing towards the Potter brat." Actually, that was debatable—that reason tied with the fact that the boy was proof that the only thing he ever loved had never been his, and had died. Well, the only thing he ever loved up until two years ago. But he couldn't tell her that now, not with everything about Sirius Black going on and with the explanation to finish. "I hadn't wanted to tell you back then because… I'm not sure why, actually. I suppose there was too much pent-up hatred that I didn't want you to see. You have every right to be angry with me for not telling you, but—"

"I'm not angry about it, Severus…" said Vesperra. This wasn't like him having kept her family being Death Eaters from her… it was far less serious. Although, she felt slightly hurt that he never thought to mention such a thing to her. But it was hard to be angry when she was still so confused, and now that she had a whole new reason to hate Potter. She felt a sudden surge of anger and hatred to match Severus's, and instantly hated James Potter for torturing Severus—and his son couldn't be any better. If Potter was a bit bigger and in any position to, she was sure he'd do the same. And Black and Lupin and Pettigrew… she hated all of them, even though she hadn't even known who they were before today. But _Pettigrew…_ she had read that name less than an hour earlier…

"Wait—Severus," she said before he could continue, "Peter Pettigrew—he was part of the gang, but Sirius Black killed him… He killed his own friend?"

Vesperra gave him a bewildered look (well, as bewildered as she could look with her controlled expression underlying) with her question. Severus was, once again, glad for her question, as it made things much easier on him. So he went on to explain how Dumbledore had organized the Order of the Phoenix when Voldemort had first risen to power (leaving out that he had been a Death Eater at the time, of course), and how Potter's gang of friends had joined them. He explained that Potter and his wife (at this, he almost struggled to speak, since he hated to explain how the woman he loved had died) had known that Voldemort was after them, so they used the Fidelius Charm and made Black Secret-Keeper, and that he had betrayed their location to Voldemort. So he had turned out to be a traitor and a spy, and then Pettigrew had cornered him in an alley near a street full of Muggles. Black hadn't hesitated in blowing up Pettigrew to silence him, and had been carried off to Azkaban as soon as the Ministry got there.

A lot of the confusion was cleared up from that, but it didn't lessen Vesperra's dread, now that she had proof of just how mad Sirius Black was.

"But as for Black and Lupin," Severus went on, "I have more of a reason to hate them than everyone else, even besides the fact that they were my childhood tormentors—actually, Lupin never partook in any of the hexing. He just watched his friends do it… and he was a Prefect, but he never stopped them…" His face contorted into a scowl as he remembered. "But in my fifth year, they tried to kill me."

Vesperra's hand automatically reached out for Severus's arm and squeezed hard. Without even knowing the details yet, she was feeling murderous. And she was going to have to be _taught_ by a man that tried to _kill_ Severus?

"Yes," spat Severus, registering her anger in the almost painful grip she had on his arm, "they apparently hated me enough to want to _kill_ me. You see, I was spying on them to try and discover what they were up to, and where Lupin was disappearing off to every month. Black told me about a secret passageway at the base of the Whomping Willow and how to get in it, and that I would find something at the end of the tunnel… I nearly did, and if Potter hadn't been afraid to be expelled and stopped me, I would have died… Lupin was at the end, and in his _werewolf_ form."

"Dumbledore's letting a _werewolf_ teach us?" Vesperra said incredulously. "And one that tried to _kill_ you, and was _friends _with Sirius Black?" What the hell was _wrong_ with that old man?

"Yes, he _is_," Severus growled. "And he also wants me to brew Lupin the Wolfsbane potion every month—which, of course, I will do, if only to make sure you and the rest of the students are safe…" She furrowed her brow, and he realized she wouldn't know what the Wolfsbane potion was. "It's a very complex and difficult potion, a recent invention, actually… It'll make sure that he keeps a human mind while he's changed, so he won't attack anyone."

Vesperra exhaled, trying to understand the way Dumbledore's mind worked, and trying to mentally prepare herself for having to learn under a werewolf that hated Severus. And she knew she'd feel even angrier every time she saw Potter's face in the future, knowing that his father had hated Severus as well. And as for Pettigrew… she was glad he was dead.

"Not that I'd expect you to, and not that I don't want anyone to know, but you can't tell anyone else that Lupin's a werewolf," said Severus. "Dumbledore's orders."

She nodded. "What about Sirius Black?" she asked tentatively.

"Aurors are looking for him. We can only wait for them to capture him, as I can't provide any help that the Ministry doesn't already have… But I wish I did. If I had it my way, I'd be the one to find and kill Black…"

This was for several reasons, some which Severus couldn't even explain to himself. It would be the revenge he never got to have on his childhood tormentor—James Potter was already dead, and indirectly at the hands of Black as well. But Sirius Black had good as killed Lily. Severus had felt so guilty all these years for having heard the Prophecy that caused Lily's death, but if it weren't for Black being the Potters' Secret-Keeper and betraying them, they wouldn't have died. It was all on Black now… and if Severus were to kill Black, he'd not only be avenging his lost happiness as a child, but he'd be avenging Lily. He'd still feel guilty, but that guilt would be lessened immensely if he could actually kill that man. And all the while, he'd be protecting Potter. It was a win-win-win situation.

But underneath the manic desire for vengeance was the basis fact that he wanted Black recaptured and either given the Dementor's Kiss or killed, and as soon as possible, by whomever.

"Severus, you're not going to go _looking_ for him, are you?" said Vesperra worriedly. "I mean—he's mad, and if he tried to kill you as a fifth year, what if he tries to kill you again?"

"Vesperra, I'm capable of more than you're giving me credit for—"

"I know you are, but if he was able to escape from Azkaban, then who knows what _he's_ capable of…"

"I assure you, my skills far surpass his… They always have," said Severus. "You cannot understand how much I'd like to be the one to catch him…"

Letting go of his arm, which she was still gripping, Vesperra hit him. She hadn't hit him hard, but it surprised him. "Don't tell me that I don't understand, Severus—you think that I wouldn't love to kill him too? But… he's _mad_, Severus…"

His face softened, but not completely. Vesperra still didn't understand, but that was because she didn't know about Lily. She understood everything else, though, and he was strangely glad to see how quick she had come to loathe James Potter, Black, and Lupin. And he knew she only cared about his well being, despite how skilled he was. But the worrying was for _him_ to do, since she was much less capable than him and therefore in more danger.

"I won't go looking for him," he said at last. "That's the Aurors' jobs. But I can't promise you that I'll pass up a chance to catch Black if one presents itself. The Ministry will likely catch him soon, anyway. Please, don't worry about me… I'm a grown man, in case you haven't noticed. _You're_ the one _I_ should be worrying about… Actually, I want you to promise me that you won't leave your house unless you're coming to mine or going to Diagon Alley."

"Of course, Severus… I'm not stupid."

"I know you aren't."

They spent the rest of that day not too much unlike their other days, except there was a certain tenseness in the air because of the threat of Sirius Black hanging over them. Severus was beating himself up over the fact that he hadn't told her about Lily or his past as a Death Eater. He could have slipped it in so easily… He had actually mentioned Lily directly. And when he was explaining about the Order, he could have mentioned that he was a Death Eater who later turned spy… But he didn't. And if he had, it would have taken more than a brief mention—he would have spent all day explaining it. And he didn't want to add more stress than they were already feeling. That would have been too much for one day.

By the time she had to leave, he found himself worrying about her safety even more than Potter's, despite the fact that the latter was in more danger. And he was hardly ashamed of himself.

* * *

Discovering all of that in one sitting left a person with a bit of a headache. Like all the other headaches she'd endured before Hogwarts, where she could get a potion for that, Vesperra ignored it. She didn't feel too worried over Sirius Black, as he couldn't harm her while she was at home, but she stayed on her guard.

The day after that visit with Severus, she was once again woken up by a tapping sound, but as she became more conscious, she realized that it was louder than tapping—it was knocking. And it was from her door. She groaned and rolled out of bed, and opened it to see her mum on the other side. She hadn't expected it to be anyone else, considering that this was her house, but she was surprised nonetheless.

Her mother pushed past her and closed the door. "Your father's out there and I don't want him to hear this," she said in a tone that implied she wanted to get this over with and out of Vesperra's room as soon as possible. "Listen, I figured that you should know that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban, and—"

"Oh, I already know that," said Vesperra. "Severus gets the _Daily Prophet_—I was at his house yesterday."

For a second, Vesperra was afraid that her other would get mad at her for leaving without telling her, but she didn't seem to care. "Oh. Well, that's good, because now I don't have to go to the trouble of telling you…" her mother said. "But Black's been on the Muggle news—your father is watching the television right now, and they've just mentioned him. Your father doesn't know Black is a wizard, and I want it to stay that way."

"Okay." At that, her mother turned to leave, but Vesperra remembered something with a jolt and held her back. "Wait—Mum—I got my Hogsmeade form yesterday—I need you to sign it."

"Right," said her mother, frowning. "Hogsmeade. Give me the form…"

Without hesitating at all, Vesperra grabbed the sheet of parchment that was folded and sitting on her bedside table. She opened it first, to make sure that it was the right one, which it was, then grabbed a quill as well. Her mum took it from her, signed it, and left her room without a word.

As her door was shut, Vesperra stared at the Hogsmeade permission form with a smirk, still in awe that her mum didn't put up any argument. Folding it back up, she went to her trunk and tucked it safely into a book where it wouldn't be lost. She didn't even need to wonder why her mother didn't want her father to know Black was a wizard—that much was obvious. Her father would probably take it as an incentive to start a fight about how 'their kind' were a danger to 'normal people,' which no one wanted. He was happier not knowing.

A few days later, when her father went to work again, Vesperra told her mum that she needed to go to Diagon Alley, and she gave her the same sack of money that she had given her last time. But now, it was fuller than it had been last year. With that, she stepped into the grate and said, "Diagon Alley!"

When she stepped back out, she was just outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, which had a large crowd around it. Wanting to get away from the throng of witches and wizards, she quickly moved away. The rest of the street wasn't very busy, and even to her, it was quite a nice experience to walk down Diagon Alley and into the shops. She was surrounded by witches and wizards… her own kind. And rather than at Hogwarts, no one would bother her. Being on her own made her feel independent and more mature.

Well, no one would bother her as long as she didn't run into them. Vesperra hoped she wouldn't be so unlucky as to meet Malfoy or his father here again… Actually, she hardly saw anyone from Hogwarts that she recognized. It seemed like it would be a nice day in Diagon Alley. As she walked down the street, she noticed that there were Wanted posters for Sirius Black in every shop window. Every few minutes, she could catch the words 'Sirius Black' from people that she passed in conversation. There probably wasn't a single person in Britain that didn't know of the escape.

The first place she went to was Madam Malkin's, since she knew she had grown a few inches at the least since she got her first school robes there when she was eleven. She would have considered herself short back then, but she felt like she had grown a lot in a short amount of time. And her almost unhealthy thinness made her look even taller. As Madam Malkin measured her sleeves and pinned them together, Vesperra felt very uncomfortable and had to exert some control not to fidget, since she hated having anyone but Severus this close to her. When she was done, she paid for her robes with a scowl, took the bag, and left without saying anything.

Nearby was Flourish and Blott's, so Vesperra headed over. But her eyes widened and she stepped back as she saw what was behind the display window—a large iron cage, full of books that were fighting each other, ripping each other's pages out, and snapping aggressively. They seemed to be copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

"Oh Merlin…" said the manager as soon as Vesperra stepped in, walking towards her. "Getting your new books for Hogwarts?"

Vesperra nodded. "I—"

"Do you need _The Monster Book of Monsters_?" asked the manager in almost a worried voice.

"Yes—"

"Let's get this over with, then… I've only done this twice so far and it's already a nightmare." The manager put on some thick gloves and grabbed a large walking stick, then walked hesitantly towards the cage. Vesperra stood back as he opened the cage door just enough that he could reach both arms in, and grabbed for one of the monster books. A few other books leapt over and tried snapping at his arm, and he yelped in pain, but he was eventually able to swat them all away with the stick and pull one of the books out. He wrestled with it for a minute, trying to keep it shut while he reached for his wand, and finally he had it bound with rope so it couldn't bite anymore.

"Here," he breathed, looking exhausted as he handed the book to her, which she was hesitant to take. "Anything else?"

After Vesperra left Flourish and Blotts with all her books, she was wondering what kind of teacher would assign them a book like _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Forgetting it for the moment, she went to the Apothecary to replenish her Potions kit, then bought new parchment, ink, and quills, and indulged in some ice-cream at Florean Fortescue's.

Passing Gambol and Japes without even a glance, she went inside a shop with all sorts of Wizarding equipment, looking for something that might be of use. Nothing caught her eye in particular, and her mind automatically went to Knockturn Alley, where she knew there were plenty of items she'd be much more interested in… But she couldn't go in Knockturn Alley, not after her promise to Severus, she just couldn't…

But if she didn't buy anything, she wouldn't necessarily be breaking her promise, would she? If she just went and looked around to see if any of the shops had stocked something different than she'd seen last time… No—they'd be too tempting, and she knew she wouldn't be able to force herself not to buy anything. However, she remembered the shop with the Emberys very clearly, as well as her conversation with the man that worked there with his father. He had told her to come back and chat if she had the time… She almost felt bad that she hadn't been able to go back. And she really wanted to know if the Emberys was still there. It would be a shame if it wasn't.

Okay, so she'd take a short walk down Knockturn Alley just to see if the Emberys was there. That was it, no buying anything, and no looking anywhere else. She could control herself…

Vesperra walked until she found the entrance to Knockturn Alley, which made a stark contrast with Diagon Alley in everything from the lighting to the general mood of the area. Once she crossed the threshold, everything changed. There was a not-so-faint rotting smell coming from—well, it could have been from anywhere in the dark street. The air had a grayish tint to it, probably because of the smoke issuing from various shops. Vesperra was vaguely aware of those glancing at her from inside shops and the sides of the street, but didn't acknowledge them. Instead, she paid attention to the shops she was walking past so that she didn't miss the one she was looking for.

It was a few minutes before she came to it, and it didn't look much different than last time she was there. The sign out front looked slightly worn, and there were certainly some new cages inside, but other than that, it was exactly the same as she had left it. Vesperra stood next to the window and peered inside, scanning the interior of the shop from where she could see. She looked near the back where she remembered the Emberys had been, but there was nothing there. Well, not _nothing_—there were other cages of Dark and dangerous creatures; but the glass cage wasn't there, nor was the vibrantly blue butterfly-like creature.

Before her disappointment could even register, Vesperra was jolted back into awareness of her surroundings as she heard the creak of the shop door opening. Startled, her head whipped around to the door, and saw a man with smooth, dark hair, broad shoulders, and an air of smugness about him that wasn't entirely unlikable leaned out of it with only his head and torso in view.

"I knew you'd come back," he said, smirking and looking very pleased. He waved for her to come in with the hand that he wasn't holding the door handle with. It was Damien, the man that had caught the Emberys and taken an automatic liking to her because of her interest in it. He was by far a more pleasant person than most of the other characters in Knockturn Alley, but it strangely didn't bother Vesperra at all. She doubted he was nice to many other people.

Damien only looked slightly different from when she had last seen him, with longer hair and a bit more stubble on his face. He seemed glad to see her, for some reason, but she was frowning at the spot where the Emberys used to be.

"You sold it," she said in a low voice, disappointed and perhaps somewhat angry.

He turned to look where she was staring and frowned as well. "My father sold her—it—I was never sure, but I did manage to study it often before I was forced to part with it. It was sold only two months ago, actually—bought by a middle-aged wizard who had an affinity for Dark creatures… I hope he appreciates it as much as I did," he added, straightening his robes to look dignified. His eyes then widened abruptly, as if he realized something. He pulled out his wand and pointed it behind him, and two chairs from the back of the room slid over. "Please, sit down—I wanted to talk to you."

Slightly confused but not against it at all, Vesperra sat down and raised her eyebrows to ask what he wanted to talk to her about. He sat down in the other chair, and responded with a look of interest.

"Is it true that there was a Basilisk at Hogwarts?" he asked. Vesperra hadn't expected that question, but she didn't mind answering.

"Yes—technically there still is, but it's dead," she said.

He frowned again. "I did hear that it was killed… Too bad, really, a powerful creature like that…" At this, Vesperra couldn't help get angry, but she hid it, since she couldn't explain to Damien that the Basilisk's existence had made her second year a very stressful one. She wasn't going to mention that she had spoken to the Basilisk, either. "But it's not as if I'd have been able to create one, or stupid enough… Only Parselmouths can control them, and I don't even know if there are any Parselmouths currently alive…"

Vesperra was half-tempted to tell him that he was sitting right in front of one, but her better judgment decided against it. So she just continued listening.

"In the year since you've been here," he went on, "We've been able to capture a few Fire Crabs and even an Occamy… but with the Galleons that the wizard who bought the Emberys paid my father, we won't have to sell anything for several months, and will still get by perfectly fine. That isn't to say I don't plan on selling anything else, of course…"

"Where _is_ your father?" asked Vesperra.

"Out running errands," said Damien dismissively. "But what I really wanted to tell you was that my father gave me a good portion of the money he made off the Emberys—which I'd definitely think he should have done if he hadn't, since I caught it in the first place. And the reason this is important to you is that I overheard my father speaking with the owner of the Apothecary here in Knockturn Alley, who mentioned that Mr. Borgin told him _you_ were in need of some Antimony. Once I heard your name, I remembered you, even though you hadn't been in my shop since last year… But the point is, when I was allowed such a large sum of money, I asked Mr. Borgin if you had found any Antimony yet, and he said you hadn't—so I found someone not too far from London that had managed to procure some. It wasn't cheap, but it was a small fraction of my current wealth…"

Damien reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a thin glass vial full of silvery bluish liquid. Slowly and carefully, he handed it to her and grinned. Vesperra's eyes widened as far as she would let them, and she was so amazed that she didn't know what to say. Severus had needed this for a long time… and she would be able to give it to him. She was even more amazed that Damien had done this for her after only having spoken to her once.

"How much do you want?" said Vesperra, still staring at the bottle in her hands.

"Nothing," he replied, laughing a little. "I'm not charging you."

Vesperra frowned. She didn't like this. No one ever just bought something expensive like this for a person they'd met a year ago, and didn't want anything in return… Not anyone that was the type of person to work in Knockturn Alley, at least. That seemed like a Hufflepuff thing to do, and she was sure that Damien wasn't a Hufflepuff.

"What's the catch?" she asked seriously. "If I take this from you, am I obligated to do something this huge for you at some point? You _can't_ just be doing this to be 'nice.'"

"Truthfully," sighed Damien, "I've never been a 'money' person. So when I had more than enough Galleons, I didn't have too many things in mind to purchase. I figured, why not help _you_ out when I had the chance? Consider it a favor. And I suppose, if anything ever comes up, you can do me a favor."

Though he had spoken very casually and Vesperra couldn't detect a single hint of untrustworthiness in Damien's face, she still wasn't sure. She was silent for a moment and then said, "Just any favor, then? Would said _favor_ be expensive, or require strenuous work on my part?"

"I don't know, I'm not in need of a favor yet. And what I did hardly took any effort, so it wasn't a big deal. Even if you don't need Antimony anymore, you might as well keep it. I've no use for it—I've never been the best at potions…"

For some reason, this made Vesperra more trusting of him. It was just… the way he talked about it so casually. He either had no ulterior motive, or was a very good liar. And even if he _did_ have something more than just a 'favor' in mind, how bad could it be? The chances of that were very low anyway… But Vesperra still kept her guard up. She held the vial up to her eyes, and turned it slowly, surveying it. After a minute, she was sure that it was, indeed, Antimony, and the majority of her misgivings were gone. Aside from all else, she wanted nothing more at the moment that to be able to give this to Severus.

"I do still need it—thank you," said Vesperra. She didn't think it would be safe to put it in her bag or either of her pants pockets, so she just held it.

"No problem," he said, smiling. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly did you need it for?"

She hesitated a moment, but then decided that she didn't really need to keep that a secret. "A friend of mine had a vial of Antimony, but it was stolen. He's been unable to find any to replace it… but now he won't have to wait any longer." Vesperra smirked, imagining Severus's reaction.

"Oh. I suppose you'll want to get going, so you can give it to him as soon as possible, then?"

"I really should."  
"Alright. Well, it was nice seeing you again." Damien held out his hand, and Vesperra shook it.

"You too. Bye."

"Bye."

Since she didn't want to risk dropping the bottle of Antimony, Vesperra wasted no time in finding the nearest grate after leaving Damien's shop and Flooing back home. It was the middle of the afternoon, so her mum and dad were gone and she was alone in the house. She considered going to Severus's right then, but that would leave her little more than an hour to be there, and she felt like she should wait at least a day. So she took her new school things to her room, and shut the door.

All of this had driven Sirius Black from her mind, and she put her focus into sorting out all her new school things, which included attaching wand holsters to the left sleeves of her new robes. After she was finished with that, she talked to Severus through her journal, and tried to keep her mood calm so her voice wouldn't give away that she was excited when he heard it read each message. And all the while, she kept glancing at the vial of Antimony on her bedside table and smiling.

Some time later in the day, after her father had gotten home (which she knew because she could hear the television on in the sitting room), Vesperra nearly jumped up when she suddenly heard a loud crack and then the sound of breaking glass. Apparently, her mother had just Apparated in and either her father had just dropped a glass, or he had thrown one. She froze in the position that she was in, not wanting to move a muscle or make a single noise—not even the light ruffle of sheets against her pants.

"What's your bloody problem?" yelled her father in his most furious voice. "Can't you use the door like a _normal_ person?—Look what you've made me do, you crazy b—"

"I'll do the same to your precious television if you don't shut up!" her mum yelled with worse fury. Vesperra was finding it hard to write her message to Severus with her parents' fighting, and she wished she could just go outside like she used to do when their fighting got out of hand, but she couldn't do that now that Sirius Black was on the loose. So she scrawled a quick note;

_**My dad wants me to clean the kitchen. I'll be busy for a while, but I'll talk to you later.**_

Crossing the corner of the page, she closed her journal and grabbed her pillow, then clamped it over her ears and laid face-down on her bed. It only muffled the noise, so she could still hear it, but it was better than getting it full-blast.

"What the hell's gotten your knickers in such a twist that you have to yell at me about it?" he father's voice bellowed.

"I've just lost my job!"

"Oh, your job that you've never given me a straight answer about? What do I care?—It's _my_ job that keeps this house standing—"

"Of course your drunken Muggle arse doesn't care, why should I expect you to? And this house is _barely_ standing with you stinking it up with your booze—if you think _your_ job makes a bloody difference—it's not the only one that's important!"

"So why did you lose _your_ job, Cassandra? Sleeping around with the coworkers?—I wouldn't be surprised—"

"I wouldn't expect any Muggle, let alone a dumbarse like you to understand why I was fired when _I_ don't even understand—They can't fire me, _no one_ fires me! But how the hell am I supposed to—Vesperra! Where's my money?"

Her mother's now almost shrill voice rang out throughout the house, hitting Vesperra's ears like ice. Damn, now she had to go out there while her mother was in the middle of a rage? The sack of Wizard money her mother had given her earlier that day was sitting on her bedside table, and she had already taken out a small handful of coins to keep for herself for when she took the Hogwarts Express in a few weeks and when she went to Hogsmeade. For a second, Vesperra couldn't move, but she knew that hesitating any longer would make everything worse. So she leapt up from her bed, grabbed the sack, and hurried out to the sitting room.

As her mother's face came into view, it seemed to Vesperra that she may be slightly intoxicated. She realized that she should have guessed from her voice, but now she could see her mother's paler than usual face and her one not-completely-in-focus eye. Keeping her own face expressionless, she tossed the bag to her mother and turned to leave immediately.

"How much did you spend?" snapped her mother very loudly, stopping her.

Without turning back around to face her, Vesperra said, "I don't know, but I only bought what I needed—"

"Bought what she needed for what?" her dad cut in. "And _where?_—Was she at one of those—those places for—?"

"She was getting her school things, you idiot!" yelled her mum. "And you _better _not have spent anything more—this is all I have until I can get another job!—And they _fired_ me—how dare they fire me? Hey—_look_ at me when I'm bloody talking to you!"

Reluctantly, Vesperra turned back around to face her mum, wishing so badly she could just leave. When she did, she saw that her mother was already gaining her senses back, and therefore was fully aware of what she was doing. That didn't mean things weren't going to get better.

"I bet you bought something—I _know_ that you bought something else, wasted my own money—what was it?"

Vesperra tried to stand straight and defiantly so her mother wouldn't think that she was scared—she was the kind of person that enjoyed seeing people in fear, especially her own daughter. But as she did, she took a short step back both to distance herself from her mother and gain a good stance, and slipped on the beer that her father had been drinking before he had dropped it. That one, simple move had her falling backwards onto the floor and, aside from the _thud_ with which her back hit the wood, there was a sudden stabbing pain in her lower back and upper arm near her shoulder. Her left hand shot to the lower spot automatically, and she realized that she had fallen directly onto the broken glass from her father's beer bottle.

"Dammit, you stupid girl!" yelled her father.

"Get up—now tell me what you bought!" screeched her mother.

Refusing to cry out and ignoring the pain, Vesperra stood up. She did, however, hold her hand over the small wound to keep it from bleeding. "I _didn't_ buy anything else! And there's plenty of Galleons in there, you'll manage—"

But her mother, despite the fact that she was mostly sober, seemed unreasonable. It was most likely the anger from being fired. "You don't know if I'll manage or _what_ I need to manage, you little liar! Now tell me—"

Her mum had taken a step forward and already had her wand out, which she had been waving around as she gestured like a mad woman, so Vesperra was sure her mum was going to do something crazy. She had reached for her left sleeve with her throbbing arm almost instinctively and drawn her wand slowly—so her mum wouldn't notice—in case she needed to defend herself. But her mum did notice.

"NO! YOU DON'T PULL YOUR WAND OUT ON _ME_—" Her mum made a sharp wave with her wand, and Vesperra felt as though she had been hit with a particularly large log that had swung at her chest and stomach—hard enough that she was thrown back into the nearest wall. Her body hit the wall with a sickening thud, and there was burning in most of her body now, so she couldn't even feel where she still had glass sticking out of her skin anymore. It hadn't even been a clean, straight-to-the-wall, hit—her body hit the wall at an angle, so her left arm was the first thing to make impact, and it currently felt like it had been crushed.

She still didn't cry out, but she slid to the floor with no strength left, and her wand was lying several feet away now. Her father hadn't moved from the spot where he was standing except in that he was now sitting on the couch, hardly reacting to the scene before him. He was still glaring at her mother, though.

"If you keep at it, the whole damn neighborhood's gonna—!"

"There's a Noise-proof Charm on this house, Eric, how do you think no one's heard us before?" Her mother yelled, though she seemed slightly less angry than she had been. But then she turned her wand back to Vesperra, who heard her as though she were very far away, since her ears were ringing with the pounding of her head. "Are you going to tell me _now_?"

Too weak to yell, Vesperra didn't even try. "Do you think I would lie to you when I'm already like this?" she moaned through gritted teeth.

Her mother surveyed her with contempt for a moment, then pointedly looked away to clarify that their fight was over. Her father then found yet another thing to bring up and they started yelling at each other, so Vesperra seized her chance. Though painful it was, she slid across the floor inches at a time to retrieve her wand, and then returned to the hallway that led to her room, at which point she started walking. It luckily went unnoticed by either of her parents, and she was able to shut her bedroom door.

Before even thinking of doing anything else, she pulled out the glass from her back and arm, and then found an old shirt to rip apart and tie around the areas. She did this while on her bed, as her legs could hardly support her at the moment. Every part of her body ached horribly, so after she had the cloth tied around her arm and waist, she just lied down and didn't move. Her body still burned with pain, but it was lessened a bit when she was lying still. However, it was a rather stiff bed, so that was an extra discomfort.

Though she refused to let out a single whimper of pain, her breathing was racking and jerkily unstable, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her face and into her blankets. But the pain was somewhat easier to deal with when she remembered that the Cruciatus Curse had felt much worse… Although, she had only endured that for a minute at the most. Probably not even that long. This lasted all night, and she had to continue to listen to her parents' seemingly distant yelling for some of it.

At some point Vesperra must have fallen asleep in spite of the pain, because she woke up in midmorning the next day. Gingerly feeling her ribs, she decided that none were broken. She had a splitting headache, the rest of her body still ached like hell, and she was undeniably starving, but in spite of all her pain, she just wanted to talk to Severus.

She spent several minutes calming herself down and forcing herself to breathe evenly before first writing a message to him, in which she apologized for not continuing their conversation last night. She told him that she had fallen asleep, and he understood. For the rest of the day, she stayed confined in her room by choice, partly because she still didn't want to move, partly because she was afraid of what her mum would do when she next saw her, and partly because she just wanted to listen to Severus's voice. It was relaxing, and eased her pain. But she couldn't let him know what had happened, or else he'd freak out.

In a couple days, Vesperra no longer ached as terribly as she had been, but there was still discomfort and she had to be careful when she walked. When she figured it was safe, with her dad at work and her mum either sulking in her room or looking for a new job, she went to the bathroom to see what her mother's hex had done. Looking in the mirror, she didn't have any marks on her face, but there were still the small cuts on her lower back and near her shoulder. She untied the scraps of the old shirt she had on her and threw them away, then got a hand towel wet and dabbed all the dried blood off. It still stung to put too much pressure on her skin, but she had dealt with worse. She could handle it.

The cuts were no longer bleeding, but they weren't quite scars yet. Vesperra left them be and took a shower, making sure the water flow was light so it didn't put too much pressure on her back. Afterwards, she realized that she hadn't eaten anything in at least two days, and she had yet to give Severus the Antimony. And since she didn't hurt as much anymore, she decided she should go to Severus's house. Checking the sitting room and kitchen first, she saw that her mother wasn't there, then hurried (though it still wasn't very fast, since it hurt to run) to put on shoes, slide her wand into her sleeve, tell Severus she was coming, grab the vial of Antimony and leave through her fireplace.

* * *

In the past week, Severus had been waiting for news of Sirius Black, who was mentioned in the _Daily Prophet_ about every other day. They still hadn't caught him, and even though Fudge was telling the press that they were on a few good leads, he knew that they weren't close at all. He wasn't sure whether this made him angrier or more eager to catch the traitor himself. Oh, how he wanted to get revenge on him…

But he couldn't have much of a role in it just yet. Severus spent his days as usual, talking to Vesperra when he could and spending the rest of his time reading or brewing, but he also spent a little more time in Diagon Alley as well as Hogsmeade, seeing if he could pick up anything. So far, there was nothing.

He was glad when, in the middle of the next week, Vesperra decided to come over.

* * *

It was a few hours later than when she normally visited Severus, but neither of them minded. Severus raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly in greeting, as he normally did.

Despite the constant ache she felt and even more so every time she took a step, Vesperra couldn't help but smile when she saw Severus—just being near him made it easier to ignore the pain. And she was much too eager to give him what she had gotten from Damien in Knockturn Alley. But she wasn't one to be too obvious about things—she wanted somewhat of a dramatic way to present it to him.

Just as she sat down with him, Vesperra's stomach let out a rather long growl—she had almost forgotten how hungry she was. It didn't go unnoticed by Severus, who immediately stood up. He knew better now not to ask when the last time she ate was, because she always got defensive at that.

"Come on, I'll make you lunch," he said, grabbing her hand. Vesperra inconspicuously slid the Antimony into her pocket and went with him, too starving to want to wait.

They talked as usual as she ate, and Severus noticed that she seemed more hungry than usual, and that, in a way, she was being more careful in her movements. He didn't comment on it, though. It was a while before she was full, and when she was, Severus asked her if she'd like to go down to the place by the river. Being outside wouldn't have been very safe, since Sirius Black still hadn't been caught and could be anywhere, but she would be with him.

"Sure," she said, thinking that it would be the perfect place to give it to him. She took his hand and they walked and talked, finally ending up by the tree hanging over the river. Vesperra didn't do it right away, but let him talk. Their surroundings were relaxing, and she wished she'd never have to go back to her own house.

During a pause in between topics, Vesperra said casually, "Are you any closer to procuring some Antimony?"

Severus frowned, still quite frustrated that the vial he had had been stolen—and by a student no less. "No," he growled.

Even though he was using that kind of tone around her, Vesperra smirked. She loved how passionate he was about potions and how angry he got when anything went wrong. "Well, that reminds me…" she said, turning towards him a bit and leaning on her right hand however much discomfort it brought her. With her other hand, she reached inside her pocket and fished out a small, glass vial. "I have something for you."

His eyes were locked on the vial of silvery blue liquid that she held out to him, which he slowly took from her. He then looked back to her, furrowing his brow as she all but grinned and seemed to be waiting with baited breath for his response.

"Vesperra," he said slowly, with disbelief obvious in his voice, "how _ever_ did you manage to—?"

"Don't ask me how I got it, just take it," said Vesperra firmly. She hadn't been able to come up with an explanation, and there was no way she could tell him the truth, so she went for this approach—where she was open about the fact that she was keeping information from him. In the past, he had told her that he couldn't tell her everything, so he'd be a hypocrite to push it too much.

"But if _I_ haven't been able to find any, how could _you_ have possibly—?"

"You've been looking in the wrong places, Severus—besides, the means by which I got it are unique to me. You wouldn't have been able to get it the same way."

As grateful as he was for her having gotten Antimony for him, he couldn't just let this go and appreciate it. "How expensive was it?" he asked warily. The only money she could have had access to was her mother's, and the woman would surely notice the majority of her Galleons missing.

"It didn't cost me a single Knut," she said. "To be honest, it was more of me happening upon it by chance than me putting a lot of effort into getting it. Nevertheless, I'm glad I got it—aren't you?"

Turning the vial in between his thumb and forefinger, Severus tried to imagine how she could have gotten it. He wondered if she might have stolen it, but he didn't want to think that she would do something like that, even for him. However, he wasn't sure if she should put it past her to do that. And what if she had threatened or cursed someone? "Of course I am," he said, tucking the vial into his breast pocket. "But why can't you tell me how you were able to procure this Antimony? Would I be angry at you for it?"

Damn. Part of her knew this would happen, and she suddenly wished that Damien hadn't given it to her in the first place. But it was too late for that, and he really did need it…

"It's too difficult to properly explain, Severus," she sighed. "But… like you, I had done some asking around. Well, not necessarily 'asking around,' but one person knew that I wanted to know if anyone had any contacts who had Antimony, and word traveled around within a small group of people. I only just got it—a few days ago. And no Dark magic was involved, if that's what you were worried about…"

She seemed wholly sincere, and that made him feel a lot better about the whole thing. Severus understood that she kept certain things from him as he had many things he couldn't force himself to tell her. Still, it seemed unlikely that whatever she was keeping from him was as serious as his secrets.

"Will I ever know the details of this?" he asked dryly, simply curious.

"Perhaps… If you ever tell me whatever you keep secret from me."

Once again, defeated by a child. But she was hardly a child mentally, and besides the fact, she was thirteen now. He resigned himself not to push the topic anymore, though he was still curious. For a few seconds, he was silent and merely looked at her calmly.

"Thank you for this, Vesperra," said Severus. He truly was grateful, since he no longer had to do any searching, and the effort he had put forth to procure Antimony years ago hadn't gone to waste.

Vesperra gave him a small smile, but couldn't bring herself to say what she was thinking—_Anything for you, Severus._

The rest of the afternoon was spent at the riverside, and Vesperra had practically forgotten that her entire body was still aching from what her mother had done. Until they started walking back, that is. But she ignored it, and instead tried to focus on the fact that she was happy, having made Severus happy.

When they returned to his house, Severus took a seat on his couch like he was too used to doing, and Vesperra let go of his hand without sitting down with him. But before she could even say "Goodbye," he stood and dropped to his knees in front of her, then wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

He had been about to say, "Thank you, again," but she automatically winced and recoiled from him, her face contorting briefly into one of pain. Just as quickly, he let go of her, looking alarmed.

"Did I hurt you?" said Severus, searching her face. "I couldn't have squeezed you that hard, I'm—"

"No, Severus, you didn't hurt me—I'm fine," Vesperra tried to assure him. His unexpected hug had put a lot of pressure on her back, leaving her whole body stinging. Even she couldn't endure that without reacting somewhat, especially when it had been unexpected. She hoped that he would let it go, but she knew he wouldn't.

"Yes, I did—I must have, because you looked like you were in pain…" And she had stepped away from him, which she never would have done otherwise. He knew for a fact that she enjoyed being near him, and he conveyed this reasoning in the look he gave her as he stared directly into her eyes. Vesperra seemed to understand, because she didn't even try to argue. Instead, she stared back at him silently.

Severus wanted nothing less than to cause her pain, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that he would get an answer out of her right away. So, though he hated himself for doing it, he slowly went to grab her arm. Holding it gently at first, he then gripped it harder, but not hard enough that it would hurt normally. The look in her eyes made it clear that she understood what he was doing, but she still didn't move. Making a quick and abrupt squeeze on the part of her arm that he was gripping, he noticed the faintest flicker of pain. Still hating himself, he grabbed her upper left arm and gradually squeezed harder, making sure not to squeeze too hard.

Finally, Vesperra's hardened face broke into a scowl of pain and he looked down at her arm. "Dammit, Severus, alright, it hurts!" she cried. He let go immediately, allowing her to clutch her arm with her left hand, and stared at her intently.

"What else hurts?" he asked softly, his heart pounding with worry for her.

Since she had already admitted that him hardly putting pressure on her arm had hurt—and clearly, badly; she figured that it would be useless to lie. Glancing at his face briefly, she said in a somewhat choked voice, "Everything."

His brow furrowed even more deeply and his usually empty eyes filled with fear and concern, he continued to stare at her, breathing heavily. Severus didn't grab her shoulders like her normally would have, for he was afraid to hurt her further.

"What _happened_, Vesperra?" he demanded, still speaking as softly as he could. He knew that he alone couldn't have caused her entire body to hurt.

She hated so badly to tell him… Vesperra didn't want to know what he would do, and she hated to appear weak. But she already was, and Severus wouldn't rest until she told him—_that_, she knew for sure…

However, she hesitated for too long, and Severus said, "Your father beat you, didn't he?"

"No—my mother," explained Vesperra, he voice full of resentment. "She—she might have been drunk, but I'm not sure… She was fired from her job, and really angry about it, and—she seemed to think I'd spent some of her money for myself, no matter how much I told her I didn't—and I really wasn't lying…" Vesperra paused to regain a calm breathing pattern, and saw the concern increase in Severus's eyes. "I slipped on my father's beer and landed on some of the glass—he had dropped the bottle—and… I took my wand out in case I needed it, and my mum hexed me against the wall when she saw it."

As she finished, Severus didn't say anything or even move for a few infinitesimal seconds. He couldn't believe how badly Vesperra had been hurt… And he felt murderous. At the moment, he wanted to_ kill_ her parents—her mother, at least. But then, he had to ask—

"Where was your father during all this?" His voice shook with anger, which he fought to keep calm.

"He was there… But he wasn't doing anything."

That did it for him. Severus couldn't stand to have Vesperra live with these people, and he would not let them hurt her ever again. He wasn't above killing them in the least bit, but he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, so he decided that he'd control himself and not go that far. Still shaking, he stood up.

"I'm going over there," he growled.

Vesperra's head snapped upward to him at once. "What?—Severus, no!"

But he had already started towards his fireplace. "You don't deserve to have _them_ for parents, Vesperra! And they don't deserve to _be_ parents…" Before she could argue, he had thrown Floo powder into the grate and stepped in. "Nottingham Court!"

_Dammit, no…_ Vesperra hurried after him into the fireplace, both dreading and anxious to see what would ensue.

Severus felt the familiar sensation of Floo travel, and then appeared in the fireplace of Vesperra's house. Next to him as he stepped out was a Muggle television, and it was on. He was too angry to care how surprised the two people in the room—who could only be Vesperra's parents—must have been, but he could see the obvious shock in their faces as they jumped up.

"Who the _bloody hell_ are you?" yelled Vesperra's mother, who had dropped her copy of the _Evening Prophet_ as she jumped up. She looked very much like her daughter, except her eyes and nose were different.

Vesperra's father seemed to be about to yell something as well, but stopped and turned his head to his wife, evidently confused. "So you _don't_ know him?" It was uncanny how much he looked like Severus's own father—when he was young, of course. But he had the same nose, the same drunken, unkempt look about him, and similar hair.

"You—" Severus was about to tell them exactly who he was, but Vesperra appeared in the fireplace just then, apparently having followed him. He hadn't really expected her to stay behind, anyway. And now her parents looked more confused than ever, and at a loss for words. Had the situation been different, Severus might have laughed.

"Severus, no!" said Vesperra as she hurried out of the grate. She was frozen at the scene before her; Severus in a sort of fighting stance, with an expression of pure hatred and anger, and both her parents standing as though ready to fight. _Wait—_both_ my parents? Damn, damn, damn… _She had no idea that he father would be home early. Or was he even early? She and Severus had likely lost track of time…

Vesperra's mother took a step forward, looking furiously confused, with her yes wide and one eyebrow arched heavily, and almost mad. "_THIS _IS SEVERUS?" she screeched, looking from him to Vesperra.

Baring his teeth, Severus looked mad himself. His eyes were alight with the same level of anger that Vesperra had seen when he had first found out that Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. She backed up to distance herself as far from her mother as possible, but wasn't afraid, since Severus was standing between them.

"_Yes,_" said Severus, hunching over and cocking his head at Vesperra's mum, looking absolutely unreasonable, yet protective, "_I'm_ Severus!"

* * *

**Aaaaaand I leave you on a cliffhanger! (Mostly because it was getting too long) Well, once again, _Blue-Bird-11_ was right. Something bad did happen. *sigh* God, Vesperra's parents are just horrible, aren't they? I can't blame Severus for losing it and wanting to kill them. He's so protective of Vesperra... I wish I had someone like Severus. And Vesperra's parents finding out about Severus was inevitable, but I bet you didn't expect it to happen so soon! Her mother must be _really_ confused... and Vesperra's just like, "Oh, did I forget to mention that Severus was a 33 year-old man? ...Oops."**

**This chapter has a crapload of things for you guys to discuss, so please do so in the reviews! Thanks!**


	31. Book 3: Chapter 3

**Sorry I left you on a cliffhanger last time, but I didn't take that long to update! And I just realized that by repeating the last line from the last chapter at the beginning of this one, it sort of feels like a soap opera, where they fade in and out at cliffhangers. **

**A couple more things- I reached 100 reviews! You guys _can't_ know how happy I am. And I wanted to share something from one of my reviews that I thought was pretty hilarious: 'That awkward moment where you and your muggle husband are sitting on the couch tolerating each other and a 33 year old man you've never met before steps out of your fire place with steam practically coming out of his ears, followed by your 13 year old daughter.' (Courtesy of )**

**Yeah. That sort of thing happens way too often. :P Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"_Yes_, _I'm_ Severus!"

This revelation seemed to be nothing short of shocking beyond belief to Vesperra's mum, even though Vesperra had addressed the man that had unceremoniously arrived in their sitting room by that name moments earlier. Vesperra's dad, however, had never heard of Severus in the first place, so the information obviously meant nothing to him and, if anything, only confused him further.

Her mother tried to look directly at Vesperra, who (luckily for Vesperra) was partly hidden from her view by Severus. "You said he was a friend from Hogwarts!" she said in a rather loud, accusing tone.

Vesperra didn't say anything, but she didn't have to.

"Oh, I am," said Severus, still glaring at them. "It's your fault that you chose to assume I was a student." His voice wasn't level, as he was on the brink of explosion. The only thing that kept him from doing so was that Vesperra's mum kept talking.

"But—so you—" Breaking off abruptly, she narrowed her eyes at Severus, surveying him briefly as if remembering something and being close to a realization. "Wait—Severus _Snape_? The little boy that arrived at Hogwarts and already knew more curses than a lot of the professors, and spent all his time hiding in the dungeons… now a teacher?" she said in disbelief. "What the hell are _you_ doing with Vesperra?"

"That is _none_ of your concern, and don't even pretend you care!" Severus snarled. "Because I know you don't—how could you, when you hurt your own daughter like that? _Your own daughter!_ How could you _curse_ your own daughter—and so badly that she's still in pain after a few days? You pathetic excuse for a—"

"So that's it, Vesperra," the woman interrupted, once again unable to actually look at her daughter, "you just run and tell Severus everything that happens at this ho—?"

"_Shut up!_" hissed Severus, stepping back to protect Vesperra even further in case it came down to that. "You have no place asking questions after what you've done, you bitch! And you—" He turned to Vesperra's father, who appeared to have been too confused to say anything else during the situation. "You just stand by and watch while your wife practically beats your daughter to _death_, and do nothing about it? She told me you hate magic—but no, not if it's not towards you! I suppose it's entertaining to watch your own daughter be hurt like that, isn't it?"

Severus's voice was strangely high-pitched when he was this angry, Vesperra noticed. She stepped slightly to the side so she could view the profile of his face at an angle, and the lines of his face were harshly distinct. Since he almost never resorted to yelling (he had a very dangerous voice that would scare the shit out of you without him having to raise his voice at all), it was a strange and almost frightening sight to see. But she knew he was getting this angry because she had been hurt, and couldn't have felt more loved or protected at the moment.

"Hey! This is _my_ house," her father argued, standing confidently and even taking a few steps toward Severus. "So you have no business knowing what goes on here! I don't even know who you are, so you can get the hell out of—!"

He had been advancing on him, presumably to try and throw him out, but Severus drew his wand and, his face twisting into a look of fury, he slashed it sideways through the air in the other man's direction. "SILENCE!"

Vesperra's father was thrown back toward his couch, and hit it so hard that the entire thing fell over. He let out a deep-throated yell and they could all hear his stocky build hit the floor along with the back of the couch. Moments later, his head appeared behind the overturned couch and he looked at them fearfully.

"It appears your abysmally small and almost non-functional brain has yet to process that I know Vesperra personally, so _everything_ that happens here is my business!" sneered Severus.

"You can't just come in here and tear up our house, Snape!" her mother yelled. "I'll do whatever I want to my daughter, and she deserved—!"

At once, Severus's self-control had gone. His wand shot to her throat, and she reached for her own wand, but he was too quick for her. "_Guttangusta!_"

The curse that Vesperra had invented took effect immediately, and her mother's eyes widened as her jaw stiffened and her wand fell from her hand with a clatter. She moved both hands to her throat, which was slowly constricting. Her mouth was moving slightly, as she tried to tell Severus to stop, but she couldn't speak with all the air leaving her lungs—instead, she let out short, choking sounds that were becoming quieter.

"She didn't deserve _any_ of that!" yelled Severus, not breaking his focus. His eyes flashed dangerously, and his teeth were still bared.

Vesperra felt a rush of affection for him all of a sudden, strangely proud that his first thought was to use the curse she invented. She watched with a malicious smirk as her mother was subjected to it, glad to see the woman getting what she deserved, but then saw that she was starting to turn blue. Her father seemed too scared to do anything.

"Severus, you're going to kill her…" said Vesperra in a slightly urgent voice as she grabbed his arm and tugged on his robes. She honestly would care if her mother died, but she didn't want Severus to go to Azkaban.

Immediately, his focus slackened, but he didn't lower his wand. Instead, he kept his stance and quickly turned his head to her. His hair whipped around as he did, and his gaze softened some. She only looked slightly concerned, and he knew it wasn't even for her mother. But looking at her put some sense into him, and he let his arm drop.

There was a long, drawn-out gasp as Vesperra's mother was able to breathe again, and she was still clutching her throat as she fell back onto her armchair and held her other arm to catch her. Wide-eyed, she stared fearfully at Severus, who was gently moving Vesperra behind him with his hand on her shoulder.

"Vesperra," said her mother angrily as she glared, her voice still raspy. "You—and _him_—"

"Shut up." Surprisingly, it was Vesperra who said this, and even Severus glanced at her, his hardened scowl flickering for the briefest of moments. Never, in any other situation, would she have dared say that, but she felt much more confident with Severus standing in between her and her mother. Now, neither of her parents could hurt her. But then, her confidence as well as her face faltered, as she was afraid to think of what would happen later, when Severus left.

Severus surveyed the scene before him, a deep scowl still on his face and with his nostrils flared. Both of Vesperra's parents looked furious, and her father seemed to be about to yell something. Before he could, Severus spoke in his most dangerous voice, but of course louder than he would have spoken to a student deserving punishment.

"Neither of you will lay a hand—or wand—on her ever again. If you do, she will tell me, and she may not be able to stop me from _killing_ you next time." Pausing to swallow, as his throat hurt from all the yelling he had done, he turned to Vesperra again. "Vesperra, would you like to spend the rest of the summer at my house?" he said softly.

"Yes," she breathed, nearly smiling.

"_Wait_," said her mother, "now, you can't just take her—!"

"I can, and I will!" snapped Severus. "I am _not_ going to leave her in the care of you… _people_ any longer. I'll bring her back the morning she returns to Hogwarts, and then perhaps in the year she spends away from you wretched beings, you'll come to your senses. There isn't a thing you or your Muggle husband can do to stop me, unless you'd like another taste of that curse."

Vesperra relished the fear that was etched on her parents' faces. The way Severus spoke when he threatened them was chilling, and she loved it.

"Vesperra, let's go get your things," he said in a would-be casual voice, still keeping his eyes on her parents. He then glanced at the floor, where her mother's wand still lay, and made a split-second decision that may very well have made a huge difference. "Accio wand."

The wand flew to his hand, which he held along with his own wand. Her mother didn't say anything, but looked disappointed, which meant that she had planned to do what he thought she might. He couldn't have the woman grab her wand and attack him when his back was turned, or when they returned from Vesperra's bedroom.

Placing his hand in between her shoulder blades (though more gently, so as to not hurt her), Severus walked with Vesperra out of the sitting room and down the hallway to her room. He didn't take his eyes off her parents until they were out of sight. When she pushed open her door, he wasn't surprised to see that it was quite a small room and that there wasn't anything special about it.

"Just get a few shirts and pairs of knickers and socks and whatever books you want to bring…" he said, his expression completely calm now.

She could hardly believe that she was going to spend the rest of the three weeks before September first at Spinner's End with Severus, completely free of her parents. Her heart thumping wildly in her chest, Vesperra went to her dresser and hastily pulled out the few shirts she owned as well as pants and her underpants and bras—which, surprisingly, she didn't mind that Severus might see. It wasn't as though he didn't know she wore underpants.

But being the gentleman that he couldn't help being with Vesperra, he wasn't looking. Wordlessly, he conjured a leather-like bag and handed it to her. She took it, and stuffed all her clothes inside, apparently wanting to leave this place as soon as possible. As he watched her go to her school trunk and pull out some of her course books so she could read them over before term started, he sat down on her bed. It felt like sitting on a very large piece of stale bread, and he felt something sharp uncomfortably poking his bottom. He stood up at once, and realized it was a spring breaking through the fabric of the mattress.

_Merlin… she _sleeps_ on this?_ Even though Vesperra wouldn't be sleeping on this bed for about another ten months, he wanted to get it over with at the moment so she'd be comfortable in the future. Doing a complicated wave at her bed with his wand and muttering under his breath, he performed a strong Cushioning Charm. Vesperra had stopped what she was doing and watched him, knowing what he must have been doing.

"That bed's been stiff for years…" she mused, realizing that she'd no longer have to endure morning backache in the years to come. Then, she continued with her packing, which included only her journal and a couple more books. She took a few seconds to decide whether to take her new Defense Against the Dark Arts book with her, since she knew she'd be learning under someone that she and Severus hated. Last year, she had refused to do any of her homework once she realized how much she hated Lockhart. But she was sure that Lupin, however much she hated him, would be a much more competent teacher. She didn't want to arrive at Hogwarts without having read even a page of her course book. So she took it.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Severus reached to take the bag from her without asking if she'd like him to carry it, not wanting her to put any more pressure on her shoulder before he was able to do something about her pain. It was actually sort of heavy with all her books in there.

"I can carry it myself, you know," muttered Vesperra indignantly.

But Severus didn't argue or even respond—he merely put his left hand in between her shoulder blades again and walked with her back to her sitting room, where her parents were still looking bewildered. Both he and Vesperra had no doubt that they were wondering how the hell their daughter had become friends with a professor at Hogwarts, and very close friends at that. They didn't blame them, as anyone who knew of their relationship would be curious as to how it happened. It was a very long and unusual story—not that they were going to tell it. And her parents didn't even know the extent of their relationship…

Her father had heaved the couch back up to its normal position, and was now sitting on it. Severus scowled at him and his wife as they walked past, and instinctively kept Vesperra closer.

"You go first," he told her, standing like a shield in front of the fireplace as she threw in Floo powder and stepped in. Before doing the same, he remembered—"Here's your wand," he spat, tossing Vesperra's mother's wand on the floor. Seconds later, he had left their house and reappeared in his own, following close behind Vesperra.

Walking to his couch in the dimly lit sitting room, she was immensely glad that she was away from them. It didn't seem real… It couldn't have been that easy to just leave three weeks early. But then again, it hadn't really been easy… She had had to get hexed against a wall so hard that she couldn't even hug Severus without hurting, so he could discover what had happened and freak out.

And though she had been afraid at first and didn't normally like to receive help, she loved that he had become so murderously protective over her. He wasn't one to take no for an answer when she said she didn't want his help, because he knew that she really did. Even when she honestly didn't want help, he still did, because he just cared about her that much. Severus was like a lion protecting its cubs… or a jaguar. Yes, definitely a jaguar… a very handsome jaguar with sleek black fur and a large nose.

When Severus walked in after her, he set her bag down on his armchair and waved for her to stand back up.

"Come on," he said, waving his wand toward the wall and causing a hidden door to open. He started leading her up the staircase to his room. "We really should have done this before…"—He was having trouble thinking of a word or phrase to describe what had just happened—"I went and threatened your parents." There was really no better way to say it. But as he had gone over there on a sudden burst of extreme anger and protectiveness, he hadn't been thinking completely straight. There hadn't been room in his mind for anything else at the time.

The moment they entered his room, Severus strode over to his makeshift storeroom and threw open the door. Vesperra sat down on his bed. He emerged from it a couple minutes later, holding a flask, a small bottle, and a small glass jar.

"Here. This is for the pain," he said, handing her the flask. It was the strongest pain relief potion that he had. She took it and downed it in a few gulps, and felt her entire body tingle for a minute afterward. Then, all her muscles relaxed and she no longer ached at all. Vesperra smiled slightly, and, just to test it, squeezed her left arm very tightly. It didn't hurt any more than it usually would have.

Severus exhaled, and unconsciously rubbed her back, glad that she wasn't hurting anymore. He took the empty flask from Vesperra and set it aside, then unscrewed the top of the bottle he was holding, which was attached to a small dropper.

"Where did the glass puncture you?" he asked.

She hesitated, but then lightly touched the spots on her upper right arm and lower back. "Here, and here…"

Sitting down next to her, Severus took her right arm in one hand and started pushing her sleeve up carefully with the other. Her usually pale skin was bluish and purplish in blotches, causing his eyes to flash with worry and him to hold his breath. When he got it up to the top of her shoulder, he frowned. The cut wasn't a scar yet, and it looked raw. He could have grabbed the edge of it and pulled back her skin if he wanted to—not that the thought would ever even cross his mind. But it wasn't bleeding, so that, at least, was good. Still, he took the bottle of Essence of Dittany and dropped a single drop onto the cut. Her skin sealed itself together at once, and within a few seconds was perfectly smooth again. He rubbed his thumb over the spot where the cut had been.

"Stand up and turn around," he said softly. She did as he said, and he went behind her dropping to his knees. Pushing the bottom of her shirt up until he saw the other, slightly larger cut, he dropped some Dittany on it as well and screwed the top of the bottle back on.

Vesperra turned back around, feeling her lower back to see whether it was completely gone. Severus still had the jar in his hands.

"This is paste for your bruises," he said. "I know you must have a lot on your back, but you wouldn't be able to reach it yourself… If you don't feel comfortable—"

Quickly catching on to what he was saying, she hardly hesitated in turning around again so her back faced him and pulled off her shirt, saying, "No—it's fine…"

He was somewhat surprised that she had no problem with taking her shirt off in front of him, but at the same time relieved that she was making it easier for him. But when he saw the bruises covering her back, he felt a pang in his chest—of sadness that she had felt that much pain, of anger towards her mother for doing that to her, and of guilt for not having taken her away from that awful house before this could happen. It didn't matter now, though, because she was here, safe, and would never be hurt by either of her parents ever again.

"It'll be easier if you lay on your stomach," said Severus, his knees hurting a little from kneeling on the floor.

Vesperra got on his bed and laid on her stomach, keeping her arms folded over her chest so it wasn't visible at all—not that she had much to hide yet, anyway. And she knew Severus wouldn't be looking, both because he was the pinnacle of a proper gentleman when it came to her, and because that was highly inappropriate considering she was thirteen. She wasn't even thinking that way, as it was entirely innocent. He was getting rid of her bruises, and she wanted to get it over with, since she wanted them gone as well.

Vesperra's entire back seemed to be one, large bruise that was lighter in certain areas and darker and more purplish on her left side. Severus opened the jar, and used his fingers to get some of the paste out. For a few minutes, he rubbed the paste everywhere where there was a bruise, and then came to a complication that he had known about as soon as he started—her bra was in the way. He had put it off, but he wasn't going to let her keep a bra-shaped bruise on her back. So he made to unhook it.

"Do you mind if I…?" he asked before trying to unhook it.

"Not at all," said Vesperra, smirking once again at how polite he was. She wondered if he felt uncomfortable at all, because she was starting to, but only slightly.

After unhooking it, Severus moved the straps away from her back so he could get the Bruise-healing Paste everywhere. Her back was soon almost covered in the yellowish paste, and he told her to wait a few minutes for it to take effect. Severus then siphoned it off, and it left her back bruiseless.

"You can use my bathroom and do your arms and legs and front by yourself," said Severus once he had rehooked her bra and she had put her shirt back on. He handed her the jar of paste. "And feel free to use one of my towels to wipe it off when you're done."

She smiled and took the jar from him, then went to his bathroom. He waited for her on his bed, still not quite believing that he would have Vesperra to himself for the rest of the summer. He wouldn't have to worry about her safety at all, because she'd be with him the entire time… About ten minutes passed and she returned from his bathroom, then he put away the jar of paste and the bottle of dittany.

"Do you want dinner?" he asked, realizing that neither of them had eaten in hours.

"Sure," said Vesperra. They walked together down the staircase and passed through his sitting room to the kitchen.

At this point it had become a rhetorical question, because she had always been hungry so the answer was always the same. It was just a question that he asked because they were used to it. But what made Severus smirk as he started fixing dinner was the thought that she wouldn't go hungry at all anymore. Not until she went back home _next_ summer, at least.

And that's sort of what confused Vesperra. As she stabbed a potato with her fork, she said, "Severus, why do I even have to go back on the morning of September first? Can't I just stay at your house until you Floo to Hogwarts, and then come with you?"

Severus sighed. That _did_ sound like the better option, but he had his reasons. "Trust me, I would have it so you never had to see your parents again, but they're your legal guardians," he said. "And if I take you with me later in the day, then everyone—especially Malfoy—will want to know how you got to Hogwarts if you weren't on the train. I didn't think you wanted to be interrogated. Obviously I can't take you to the Platform myself, because people would see me. You'll only have to be in close proximity of your parents for an hour at the most—you'll get all your school things, Apparate to Platform Nine and Three-quarters with your mum, and then she'll leave as soon as you let go of her. If she tries to hurt you or even yell at you, she'll have _me_ to deal with."

He didn't mention it to her, but he also thought that taking the Hogwarts Express there every year was just part of the experience. No one but the teachers got there any other way unless in very rare circumstances, and it just seemed out of place to have her arrive by Floo instead of the train.

Vesperra supposed that made sense. She didn't even want to _know_ what Malfoy would think if she showed up at the start-of-term banquet without having been on the train. Taking a bite of her roast potato, she smiled at Severus.

Some time after dinner, when they had been talking on his couch for a while, they decided that they were both tired and needed some sleep. Vesperra wondered for a moment where she was going to sleep, since Severus didn't have a guest room. He definitely wouldn't want her to sleep in his old childhood bedroom, when he hadn't even felt up to showing her that room yet. She was unsure if he ever would. Leaning against him, she decided that she wouldn't have minded falling asleep just like that.

"You can sleep in my room, if you want," said Severus, noticing that she was close to falling asleep on him. "I'll sleep down he—"

"No, Severus, this is _your_ house… I'm not going to make you sleep on your own couch," Vesperra argued with a bit of a laugh in her voice, since she couldn't believe the lengths to which Severus went to make sure she was comfortable. "I'll sleep down here. I'm much smaller, anyway."

"You wouldn't be _making_ me sleep on my couch, since I was the one that offered—and you're my guest. You're supposed to treat guests better than you treat yourself, you know."

"Severus, you _always_ treat me better than you treat yourself… Really, I don't mind sleeping on your couch. It's comfortable enough."

He looked down at her, and saw that she had already gotten comfortable, with her head nestled against his arm, her eyes half-closed, and her breathing calm. He was half-tempted to let her fall asleep like that, but he decided against it. And he'd still have let her sleep in his bed, but she had insisted on not doing so.

"Fine," he said, his words reaching Vesperra in her half-consciousness rather than jolting her out of it. It was almost soft enough to lull her straight to sleep. "But let me adjust it first." As she straightened up, she had no choice but to do the same, and reluctantly stood up with him. With a few nonverbal spells, Severus had moved the rickety table further away from the couch, and then made the couch large enough that Vesperra's legs wouldn't be hanging off the end if she laid down on it. It was also wider, so she would have a bit more room to get comfortable on or roll over if she needed to.

Then, he opened the hidden entrance to his room again, and wordlessly summoned a blanket and pillow for her. "Here," he said, tossing the pillow onto the couch and charming the blanket to lay perfectly over it. "If you need anything, just come tell me. I'll leave the door to the staircase open."

"Goodnight," she yawned.

"Night." Severus then left her to get some sleep, and glanced at her once more before walking up the stairs to his bedroom.

Vesperra kicked off her shoes and sleepily moved under the blanket, getting a comfortable position. She was too tired to bother putting on her nightclothes. If she hadn't fallen asleep within minutes, she would still be reveling in the fact that she was actually staying at Severus's house. It was like going back to Hogwarts three weeks early.

* * *

The next few weeks were the best ever, especially for Vesperra. Everyday, she woke up on Severus's couch, ate meals with him, and spent much of the day with him. When she felt like it, she started reading over her new books. Well, all but _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Even Severus couldn't figure out how to open it without having his fingers bitten off. But he didn't mind her practicing spells from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_, as he liked to watch her practice. He felt strange, being a teacher and allowing her to use magic outside of Hogwarts, which was breaking Ministry law, but he figured it wasn't bad as long as she was only practicing spells that were from a textbook. Not that he would mind if she was doing anything else.

Throughout the rest of August, there were still no signs of Sirius Black, and the Ministry wasn't any closer to catching him. This put a bit of stress on them, as they always had him in the back of their minds, along with the worry that he might find Voldemort and return him to full power. Severus was sure that Potter must still be safe, but he couldn't help but have the niggling fear that he might get himself into trouble.

He also still went about his business in Diagon and Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade, trying to pick up information, but there still wasn't anything. He even took occasional trips into Muggle London, sticking around at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic with a Disillusionment Charm on himself, seeing if he could hear anything. Still, nothing. And that left Vesperra alone for a short amount of time almost everyday. Severus _did_ tell her that he was trying to see if he could find information, and she figured that he was doing it because he wanted to see Black imprisoned or given the Dementor's Kiss as soon as possible, which _was_ true… But she didn't know some of the reasons underlying that one.

In the time that he was gone, Vesperra was usually reading her books or just sitting and idly thinking. With all the time she was allowed to spend with him now, she didn't mind not seeing him for a couple hours or so per day. However, she was getting spoiled with him. For the first time, she dreaded the day that she'd have to return to Hogwarts. She didn't want to have to see Severus only once or twice a week—not including meals—or to have to put up with Malfoy. But those were just her feelings at the moment, since there was much more to Hogwarts than just Severus. There were the endless corridors, all the undiscovered secrets, all the magic to be learnt and all the points to be earned… And there were the dungeons, the potion fumes, the ghosts, the feasts, the Lake, and _Hogsmeade_.

Vesperra had gotten so used to staying at Spinner's End that she almost forgot that she didn't live there. So on the morning of September first, it felt odd to be returning to her actual house. She got dressed as usual and ate breakfast with Severus, and then, at about ten o'clock, she made sure that she had everything in her bag. Once again, Severus went first through the fireplace for Vesperra's safety.

He didn't like being in that house again, so naturally, he scowled when he walked in. Vesperra's mother was sitting in her armchair, reading the _Daily Prophet_, and scowled back at him. She didn't appear too shocked this time, since she'd have been expecting him. He could tell how much she hated him, and he wouldn't have expected any less, since he had nearly killed her. Severus didn't doubt that she often looked at her daughter in a similar way, if not the same.

Seconds later, the flames in the grate turned green again and Vesperra appeared in them, holding her bag. She didn't want to look at her mum, as she couldn't even fathom how angry she must be… So she just glanced at Severus, whose expression had softened considerably.

"Go pack your things—I'll stay out here, so I can keep an eye on _her_," sneered Severus, jerking his head toward her mother. Vesperra nodded and went to her room, still avoiding looking at the woman.

Folding his arms, he stood straight and tall, though he wasn't sure if this would have the same effect on Vesperra's mother as it did on the students at Hogwarts. Since he was over six feet tall, he appeared quite intimidating without having to do much but stand over them. Vesperra's mother was sitting, and he wasn't necessarily standing _over_ her (since he didn't want to be too close to her), but considering the fact that she knew first-hand how dangerous he could be, she shouldn't have felt too confident with him in the room.

He glared at her, and could easily tell by her sudden change of expression that she was wondering why Severus looked at Vesperra the way he did. As soon as her daughter was completely out of sight, the woman dropped the _Prophet_ to her lap and stared directly at him.

"What kind of relationship do you have with Vesperra?" she asked, and in a manner that told Severus she had rehearsed this. There was a slight quiver in her voice, as she couldn't quite speak to him bravely. And yet her eyes stared him down like a hawk's—but she was no match for him. The fact that she was making sure not to glance away even for a moment gave Severus the chance to briefly penetrate her mind.

Severus hardly had to delve in there to know that she had been thinking that his and Vesperra's relationship was romantic in some way. He narrowed his eyes and pulled out of her mind, annoyed that she would think that, but not exactly surprised that she would jump to that conclusion.

"We're friends," he said shortly, looking away again. She didn't seem to have noticed an outside force in her mind.

"But you're—you're in your thirties!" she argued in a harsh voice, sounding slightly more confident. "And when she—when Vesperra asked if she could visit a 'friend', I automatically assumed 'boyfriend'…"

"Clearly," said Severus icily, barely moving his lips, "you were wrong. As you've so cleverly observed, I am in my thirties. Now, I don't think you're in any position to ask questions, nor do I feel the need to explain myself to _you_."

Vesperra's mother looked affronted, but didn't have time to say anything, for Vesperra entered the scene at that time, dragging her school trunk, in which she had put all her clothes and books back in.

She now had no choice but to look at her mother, but she did so grudgingly. Scowling, Vesperra walked back into her sitting room, and found Severus and her mum glaring at each other loathingly through side-glances. Without any idea that they'd just been talking (for want of a better word), she walked up to her mum. She'd have felt somewhat awkward if she wasn't too focused on how much she hated being near that woman.

"You better get going," said Severus, his eyes flashing threateningly towards Vesperra's mother. "I'll leave once I see that you've left."

Reluctantly, she held out her arm for Vesperra to grab, and in the next few seconds, Severus watched the older woman scowl, turn on her heel, and disappear with her daughter.

* * *

As there was at least another forty-five minutes before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave the station, Platform 9 ¾ wasn't as packed as it could have been. Vesperra took a second to regain her balance and to let the effects of Side-Along Apparition to wear off, and then promptly began walking away from her mother and into the crowd without so much as a "bye" or a single glance. She thought, at first, that her mother might grab the collar of her shirt to hold her back, and then start telling her off because of Severus, but she didn't. And what neither she nor her mother knew was that Severus had Disillusioned himself and Apparated there to make sure nothing happened.

She made it to the scarlet steam-engine, and heaved her trunk into the nearest carriage. It was mostly empty, so she had no trouble getting to an empty compartment. And she was considerably stronger than she had been the year before, so her trunk didn't feel as heavy now. Exhaling audibly, she stowed her trunk in the luggage rack and sat down.

As she waited for eleven o'clock to come, Vesperra started thinking about the summer. It had left her with a different feeling than she had had when she had boarded the Hogwarts Express the year before. Now, she didn't feel so much of a sense of relief that she was finally going back to Hogwarts—mostly because she hadn't been enduring life at her house the past few weeks. But despite the fact that she'd very much like to live at Severus's house instead and that Malfoy and everyone else who tormented her would be there, she considered Hogwarts home, and was glad to be going back.

In retrospect, she was almost glad that her mum had lost her job and gone crazy like that, because the rest of the summer had been worth it. However, she hated that her parents now knew about her and Severus's relationship. Sure, the knowledge of it hovered over them like a threat to never hurt her again, and they would likely be unable to even glance her way for more than a few seconds at a time in the future, but Vesperra would have preferred it to stay a secret between her, Severus, and Dumbledore. At least they only knew what was obvious on the surface—they were friends. Actually, she doubted even Dumbledore knew the full extent of their relationship.

And to think, her mother had been constantly referring to Severus as her 'boyfriend'… Vesperra couldn't even imagine what she must have thought when she realized that Severus was a thirty-three year old man. The thought of it was almost laughable.

Watching out the compartment window, Vesperra could see several people from her year—including Harry Potter, who was with all of the Weasleys. Malfoy passed at one point, as did a couple of the other Slytherins in her year. The Platform gradually became less and less crowded, until finally, only parents and other relatives were left, and the steam from the train was whistling loudly as it started moving. Within a minute, she could no longer even see the Platform, and the grassy plains outside the windows were a bit blurred.

During her time focusing on what was outside the window, Vesperra hadn't even realized that she was no longer alone in her compartment. It startled her, but she didn't show it when she noticed. There were five others sitting on the benches; next to her were two soon-to-be first years, one of which was a girl with thick, curly black hair and a prominent chin, the other a slightly chubby, bored-looking boy with gingery hair. Across from her were Theodore Nott, a second-year girl who, Vesperra was pretty sure, was in Hufflepuff, and an older Slytherin boy that she didn't know.

Not wanting to spend the rest of eight or so hours just sitting and watching everyone else, Vesperra stood up, turned around, and stepped onto the bench so she could get to her trunk. She knew the others must be staring at her (or perhaps that was just paranoia she had built up over the past couple years), but she ignored it as she opened her trunk and pulled out a few books without looking at them, wanting to be as quick as possible about it, then closed it and sat down.

Right as she took her seat once more, she saw Potter and his friends pass the compartment, apparently still looking for seats because they paused to check inside and resumed walking once they saw that it was full. She didn't acknowledge it.

For the next couple hours, Vesperra was buried in her books, but it was slightly difficult in a full compartment. Luckily, no one tried to talk to her—likely because of the scowl she wore by default, but they talked to each other, which was distracting. The first year girl was by far the most annoying, as she talked very loudly and had frequent fits of giggles, which were long and high-pitched. She was talking almost the entire time, and most of it was a predominantly one-sided conversation with the boy next to her, who wasn't so talkative.

"What House do you think you'll be Sorted into? I'm not sure about mine, but since my parents were Ravenclaw and Slytherin, I hope it's either of those. But then again I might be in Gryffindor, because I hear that's where the brave people go and I've always thought I was sort of brave—That's actually how my magic first showed, I think, because once when I was six—or seven, can't remember—my brother dared me to jump out of a tree, and I was scared at first but I ended up doing it since it was a dare and, you know, you can't just refuse to do a dare. But anyway, it was apparently such a high jump that I might have died if I landed normally, but I floated down just like a feather and my brother was grounded for a month."

And that was just the half of it. The girl talked in a very smug manner, and Vesperra could easily tell how pushy and conceited she was. It was extremely irritating, and Vesperra was getting a headache just from being in the same compartment with her. She was like a female version of Malfoy. Good thing Vesperra had her books, or else she'd have been forced to only hear that girl's voice for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts. At some point, the girl mentioned that her name was Romilda Vane. It may or may not have been the first time, because Vesperra was slipping in and out of reality. And she sincerely hoped that Romilda didn't end up in Slytherin.

Theodore Nott was mostly silent until Romilda tried talking to him, at which he avoided giving her lengthy responses. The older Slytherin boy didn't talk much either, probably because he didn't want to talk with younger students. Vesperra guessed that he had been the first of them to enter the compartment besides her, since he was sitting closest to the window on the other side, and because it would have made sense for him to see a near-empty compartment with only her in it, and to figure he might as well sit in there because it was the only one not full that he could find on short notice and he didn't think she would bother him.

The compartment was hardly silent for more than a minute or so at a time. Vesperra glanced up a few times from her book, and noticed that both of the other Slytherins seemed very annoyed with Romilda as well, as they threw her quick, dirty looks, and glared at her from time to time. She also noticed Theodore glancing in her direction a few times, and suddenly remembered what the Lovegood girl had said a few months ago when they were getting off the train—she had known Vesperra's actual name because she heard Theodore Nott say it as she had passed his compartment.

Well, she couldn't help but be curious as to what he had been talking about when he said her name and who he was talking to, but it wasn't the sort of thing you could just ask a person. (She wouldn't have asked him in front of other people even if it was, anyway.) And what was especially curious was that he had used her real name, and not the nickname that she hated. But since Nott had never really taken part in teasing her even when everyone else was, Vesperra supposed he wouldn't have used a derogatory nickname for her in passing.

The one good thing about it all was that the compartment was big enough that they weren't crammed together. Vesperra didn't think she'd have been able to stand it if she had to sit any closer to the first years next to her. The train corridor had become relatively busy, as people chased back and forth in front of the compartments. She hoped Malfoy wouldn't show up during the journey to Hogwarts, since she was dreading having to deal with him again after a summer of being free of him. Though meeting him on the train was almost inevitable, as she was sure he'd come looking for her, she'd prefer to put it off until they were actually inside Hogwarts walls.

Outside the windows, grassy plains and farms soon turned into thick forests, and it became strangely dark for it being so early in the day, the clouds overhead thickening. It was close to raining, and Vesperra could hear the pre-thunder forming aside from the rest of the racket inside the train.

Finally, the witch pushing the food trolley opened the compartment door, and said the familiar words, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Vesperra wasn't particularly hungry, since she had actually been eating properly the past few weeks and had had a decent breakfast that morning, but she could still use something to eat. She shoved her hand inside her pocket, where she still had a bit of money left from last year when she had kept some of her mother's money for herself as well as from about a month ago, when she had done the same. And then she realized—when her mum had been yelling at her about having spent her money on things that weren't necessary, Vesperra actually _had_ taken some. In her fear and pain back then, she had completely forgotten, and actually thought she had been telling the truth. Oops.

But that was done with, and she still had the Galleons afterward. So there was no point in dwelling on it, especially since she was sure her mother wouldn't have become completely docile even if she had admitted to taking money from the bag. In fact, she'd have likely been worse.

Pulling out a few Sickles from her pocket, Vesperra stood up along with Romilda, Theodore, and the Hufflepuff girl—the other two boys shook their heads at the candy witch. They were all closer to the threshold of the compartment, so they bought their things first. Once again, she felt slightly awkward surrounded by five other people in such a small amount of space, especially when standing up and purchasing candy, but she brushed off the paranoia she felt coming on and soon sat back down with a couple cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. The trolley witch then slid the door shut and continued down the train. Not only had she brought food, but her arrival had told Vesperra that it was around one o'clock, which meant there were still several hours to go.

How could it have only been two hours so far? It felt like they should have been at least half way there by now… _Ugh, it's going to be a long ride._

Vesperra was reading and absentmindedly eating for a while until she heard the compartment door slide open again, and dreaded looking up, for she was almost sure who it was.

"Well, we were looking for Potter, but look who we've found," said a familiar, drawling voice, accompanied by sycophantic chuckles that could only have been from Crabbe and Goyle. Vesperra, who knew who they were referring to, didn't look up from her book. "It seems we've stumbled upon the misfit cabin, haven't we?"

"Hey! Watch who you're calling a misfit," said Romilda Vane in a fairly confident tone. Vesperra glanced up to see Malfoy's reaction, and Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles threateningly but Malfoy shrugged it off after he sneered at the first year.

"Oh—didn't notice you there, Nott," Malfoy said, looking at the other side of the compartment. Theodore frowned. "You don't have to sit in here with Grease-perra and those first years—honestly, I'm surprised the cabin's not empty but for her…"

There was a flicker of a scowl on his face, but Vesperra could have just imagined it… "I'm fine here," Nott muttered, not looking at Malfoy, who regarded him with a 'Fine, have it your way' type of look, then turned back to Vesperra.

"I'd ask if you were having fun, Grease-perra," said Malfoy with his usual smug smile, "but you in any fun environment would probably result in an explosion… And I'd expect you to be more depressed than ever, now that even Weasley's richer than you. Oh, your summer was probably miserable, wasn't it? I hope it was, at least."

Scowling, Vesperra kept her eyes on her book, aware that the others in the compartment were watching. "Why don't you run off and taunt Potter instead, Malfoy?" she hissed. "I thought you were looking for him."

"For once, Grease-perra has a point—Crabbe, Goyle, let's go."

Looking disappointed that they didn't get to punch anything, Malfoy's bodyguards stepped back into the corridor as he gave Vesperra a glare and slid the door shut again. As he stalked away with Crabbe and Goyle treading ungracefully behind him, she figured that Malfoy would have preferred to find Vesperra alone. He definitely wouldn't have thought that the others, most of whom she hadn't even met before today, would have defended her, but he always liked to confront her when she was alone.

A minute or so later, the conversations inside the compartment resumed, and very soon after that, it started raining. Gradually over the next several hours, the rain thickened and it was eventually dark enough that all the lanterns in the corridors and inside the cabin flickered on. After what felt like forever, Vesperra decided that they would likely be at Hogwarts within an hour or so, so she stood up on her seat to get to her trunk again and got a set of school robes to pull over her clothes. Reluctantly, she also put her books away, even though she knew that she would have an hour of nothing but the mindless chatter from others to keep her entertained.

Likely because they trusted that Vesperra's internal clock was correct, the other followed suit and put on their robes as well. She liked the slightly changed surroundings for the next twenty minutes better than the rest of the train ride, as the rattling of the train and the noise of rain pounding on the metal and glass had somewhat of a calming effect. Even Romilda felt compelled to talk more quietly—or perhaps that was just the rain drowning out her voice.

And then, the train began slowing down, and they could all feel the lurch of it changing gears. Vesperra furrowed her brow, and sat up straight—they shouldn't be at Hogwarts yet… It must have been over half an hour too early. She peered out the window, trying to make shapes out of the blackness. It was difficult, but she was sure it was only mountains out there. If they were at Hogsmeade Station, there'd have been lights and she'd have been able to tell.

Everyone else looked back and forth between each other, looking confused. As the train got slower and slower, Vesperra heard the faint sound of other compartment doors opening, presumably from other students trying to figure out what was going on.

"What? Why are we stopping?" said Romilda, looking around for someone to answer.

"Apparently you haven't noticed, but the rest of us are just as confused as you are," snarled Vesperra, drawing the eyes of everyone else in the cabin, who all seemed to be fighting back smirks except for Romilda, who frowned.

"Well then," she said, affronted. She only looked at Vesperra for another second before standing up to slide open the door and check outside to see if the conductor or anyone else was coming along to explain what had happened, but then the train stopped with a jolt and the momentum brought her falling back to her seat. The girl didn't even have time to say "Ow!" before all the lamps went out.

They were thrown into utter darkness as thuds from behind them told them that some of their luggage had fallen out of the racks. It was pitch-black around them, and all they could hear was the pounding of rain and wind, and their own breathing. Vesperra's heart thudded so hard in her chest that she was sure everyone else would be able to hear it…

"What's going on?"

"We can't have broken down, can we?"  
"Everybody shut up a minute—" Vesperra pulled out her wand from her sleeve and said, "Lumos." A ball of light appeared at the tip of it and illuminated a good portion of the compartment. The others appeared frightened, but she was merely scowling as usual. Moving her wand towards the window, she peered out of it again. It was still very dark, but she could see that something was moving out there.

This _couldn't_ be happening—whatever it was that was happening. But of course something bad had to happen… And not knowing what was going on was the worst part of it. The darkness in the train wasn't just because the lights had gone out—it was unnatural darkness.

Suddenly and yet so slowly that Vesperra didn't even notice until she heard the sharp gasp of the Hufflepuff girl, the compartment door slid open. Vesperra turned her wand to the doorway, and the small light illuminated what was standing beyond it—a cloaked figure, with its head covered by its hood, that was tall enough to reach the ceiling. But it wasn't necessarily standing… it seemed to hover. The folds of its cloak rippled ominously in the air.

Vesperra was frozen, unable to breathe, unable to even blink. Her heart stopped, and her arm was stuck in its position, holding her wand out. She knew what that thing was… a Dementor. She had never given them much thought before, as she had only read about them before and never expected to encounter one. But she knew what they could do, and if she wasn't frozen at the moment, she'd have been wondering what it was doing on the Hogwarts Express.

The Dementor tilted its head back very slightly and drew a long, slow, rattling breath, shaking eerily with the force with which it was sucking, and emitting a disgusting sound. Vesperra then felt an intense cold sweep over her, colder than she had ever felt and worse than she'd have ever thought possible. It froze her to her seat, and filled her insides, clutching her heart and pulling it deeper into her chest. She felt like she was drowning in it, and, shaking, she dropped her wand and it fell to the floor as quickly as her right arm fell uselessly to her side. The light, however, had not left, and the Dementor was still visible.

But anything that was tangible outside her mind was nothing anymore. It didn't reach her any more than vaguely. She could hear and see it, but she had no desire to do anything about it or even to try to process it. She had no desire to do anything anymore. She wasn't there anymore.

Trapped inside her own mind, Vesperra felt complete despair envelop her. She was surrounded by all the memories she'd ever had of her parents yelling at her, of them hitting her, of the screams she heard and the screams that had come from her own lips as a small child. And then when she had learned not to scream, and when the fights got worse. And every time she had been hiding in a corner, holding her hands over her ears. And every time she had been sure that she wasn't loved nor cared about in the least bit by anyone. All the hatred towards her, all the hatred she had ever felt, and all the pain she had ever felt… Her worst memories played before her, overlapping so that she felt them all at once. In no time at all, she was robbed of everything but them. There was no Severus. The comfort she had always felt with him was gone, and so was the hope, the affection, all the happiness she had ever felt—_gone_. He didn't exist in her mind anymore. And Vesperra felt absolutely deadened, like she'd never feel the slightest bit of happiness ever again…

Then the cold started leaving. Her heart started beating again, though faintly and each beat felt hours apart. Vesperra started to become more conscious of her surroundings, and started to remember what had been happening while she was lost in horrible memories. The compartment door had slid shut just as slowly as it had opened, and the Dementor had glided away, a blindingly white figure dashing down the corridor as though chasing it. It was still pitch-black in there except for the light from her wand. She didn't pick it up.

For a minute or two, Vesperra stayed as stiff as she had been, staring straight ahead. Though the Dementors (assuming there were others) had left, there was still the residual coldness within her that strained her breathing and didn't allow the muscles to relax. And then the lanterns flickered back to life, allowing her to see that the others looked horrible, Theodore Nott especially. He looked as awful as Vesperra felt, his face very pale and every part of him trembling, right down to his pupils. She hadn't realized it until just now, but she was shaking uncontrollably, primarily in her chest. The rest of the compartment shook a little as well, as the train was starting back up again.

Rather than having come flooding back, all her good memories (whose number paled in comparison to the rest of her life) returned to her in a slow trickle. She felt slightly warmer, but was still freezing. And the way the Dementors had made her feel haunted her, so much that she couldn't even attempt to drive it away. Thoughts of Severus were at the back of her mind, unreachable, and yet she was aware of them. Vesperra was slowly regaining the ability to move, but didn't feel up to it. If everyone else in the compartment had been staring at her, she wouldn't have cared. Her wand was still on the floor, but she didn't care either.

In a few minutes, when she had finally started breathing at least somewhat normally, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Still looking quite shaken, Theodore Nott stood up from his seat, and stepped over to her side of the compartment. He bent over and picked up her wand from the floor, then set it in her lap and sat back down without a word. Slowly, her hand moved to her lap and her fingers closed around the handle of her wand, which felt positively warm compared to her skin at the moment. She looked down, and slid her wand inside the holster within her sleeve.

A minute later, she muttered just loud enough that Nott should be able to hear, "Thanks." Her voice was hoarse, and void of any emotion.

When the train came to a stop again about fifteen minutes later, there was a scramble to leave. It was the usual noise and bustle of the students grabbing their pets and leaving, but not as many people seemed as excited as usual. It was more that a lot of people were glad to be up and moving again, as Vesperra was. She felt almost nauseous as she stood up, but ignored it and walked with everyone else onto the platform and out to the muddy trail lined with stagecoaches. Silently, she found an empty one and sat in it, paying no attention to whoever else got in there with her.

As she felt weak, the bumps that the coach met on the path as it started moving didn't help her stomach. Vesperra hated to feel this weak—she needed food, and soon. Even more urgently, she needed to see Severus. The effects of the Dementor had almost completely worn off, but she still felt just awful. She didn't want to talk to anybody, and she didn't want anyone to talk to her. Except perhaps Severus, whose soft voice would be calming beyond belief. Simply thinking about the fact that she'd be able to hear it after the feast helped her heart beat a little faster.

However, when the carriage passed the Hogwarts gates, Vesperra suddenly felt sicker and was briefly engulfed in her bad memories again. Looking out the window, she saw two Dementors standing guard on either side of the iron gates. Luckily it was brief, but she figured it would be safe to keep her head near the window in case she had to vomit. Now that she could think clearly (for the most part), she remembered that Severus had mentioned sometime during the summer that Dumbledore was allowing Dementors to guard the school as a precaution to keep Sirius Black out. So those foul creatures had been looking for Black on the train… As interested as she was in Dark creatures, she hated Dementors from the depths of her heart—from the part that she could still feel, at least.

Finally, the stagecoach stopped in front of the stone steps leading up to the castle, and Vesperra wasted no time in getting out and climbing the steps. Neither Malfoy nor any of the others were around, and for that, she was grateful. She walked with a deep scowl ingrained on her face, and was completely unaware of it until she entered the Great Hall, took a seat at the Slytherin table, and then looked up at the Staff Table; because she saw Severus, and felt her expression ease up.

* * *

The few hours before the feast went normally, except for the fact that Lupin wasn't introduced to the rest of the staff—for which Severus was glad, of course. He wanted to put off having to see that man for as long as possible. Dumbledore had told them that Lupin would be arriving by the Hogwarts Express with the students, which left everyone to assume that he had been so poor that he wasn't even living in a place that was connected to the Floo Network. But only certain Wizarding fireplaces could be connected to Hogwarts, and getting through Ministry paperwork to connect them could possibly take a while, so it was plausible that he didn't think it worth the effort and had settled for taking the train that normally only brought students.

Another thing Dumbledore had informed them of was that the Minister of Magic had ordered Dementors to check the Hogwarts Express for Sirius Black, which made Severus's heart stop for a moment. He didn't oppose the idea, as he realized it was necessary and wanted Black recaptured more than anyone, but he thought of Vesperra, and the effect the Dementors would likely have on her.

Severus inventoried his private stores as the rest of the staff waited for the students to arrive. Rather than McGonagall, Flitwick was given the duty of leading the first years into the Great Hall and taking care of the Sorting this year, since the old woman apparently had other things to take care of once the students got there. Since he could be considered third-in-command, Severus would have had that responsibility delegated to him, but luckily Dumbledore wasn't feeling cruel that day.

It was eventually time to leave the dungeons and get up to the Great Hall so he could take his seat at the Staff Table. As students started filing in, it gradually became noisier. Vesperra was one of the first, and she looked paler than usual. She was scowling horribly, and Severus was sure it was because of the Dementors. Mostly everyone else seemed fine, though. Well, they obviously hadn't had pasts anything like Vesperra's.

She looked straight at him, and her scowl faded—it was still a scowl, but not as harsh. He looked back, but after a few seconds the door behind the Staff Table opened, and a man stepped out from the staffroom. Severus hadn't seen him in at least fifteen years, but it could only have been one person—Remus Lupin. His robes were extremely shabby, with several patches all over them. Even if Severus had not been told beforehand that Lupin was going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he would have recognized him—he looked ill, and in the same way he always had as a child. He'd be absent from classes a few days out of every month, always around the full moon. Then he'd come back looking ill as he did now… and hardly anyone ever suspected. Only Severus and Lupin's friends had known that he was a werewolf. But he was also recognizable by his light brown hair (which was now flecked with gray) and the few white scars on his face.

Lupin took his seat at the other end of the table (thankfully), and Severus felt a sudden rush of anger. When the man wasn't in sight anymore, he didn't look at him. He didn't want to look at him at all, ever.

* * *

Vesperra watched a man that she'd never seen before enter the Great Hall from behind the Staff Table, and knew at once that it could only have been Lupin. The residual emptiness she had felt because of the Dementor was quickly replaced by hatred. She soon looked away and just faced forward, though, because Malfoy and most of the other third year Slytherins had taken seats around her and she didn't want them to think she'd been looking at Severus.

But they didn't jump straight into talking to or about her, and hardly even talked about her at all.

"I heard Potter _fainted_ on the train! Can you believe that? _Fainted!_" Malfoy laughed and went on about how weak Potter was with the others, who punctuated the sniggering with their own comments, and then, after five minutes or so, turned the conversation to Vesperra.

"I bet even Grease-perra didn't faint—did you?" said Malfoy.

"No," she muttered. Actually, she had felt like she might have collapsed. At some point, she hadn't even been sure whether or not she was conscious. And as much as she hated Potter (even more so now that she knew about his father), she didn't feel any sort of satisfaction knowing that he had fainted because of the Dementors. It was hard to be happy about that when the Dementors had reduced her almost as much.

To Vesperra's surprise, Malfoy didn't continue talking to her and instead spent the rest of the time he had talking about Lupin. Apparently he hated him as well. The story of Potter fainting on the train started traveling very fast, as did most gossip in Hogwarts. And Vesperra couldn't help but notice that Potter wasn't in the Great Hall. Neither were McGonagall or Flitwick.

The latter came through the doors from the Entrance Hall a few minutes later, leading all the nervous-looking first years. Flitwick hurried up to the front, carrying out a stool with the Sorting Hat sitting atop it. After it sang its song, he took out a long sheet of parchment, from which he squeakily read the names of first years. Wondering where McGonagall was, Vesperra watched, bored, as the new students were Sorted into the four Houses. Flitwick, being hardly as tall as the shortest first years, had to levitate the Hat onto each of them. It ended with "Vane, Romilda!", who ended up in Gryffindor, to the relief of Vesperra.

When Professor Flitwick started carrying the stool and Sorting Hat back out of the Great Hall, Potter arrived with McGonagall and Granger, which got Vesperra even more curious as to what they had been doing. She thought for a moment that they had been in trouble (which wouldn't have been surprising in the least), but neither of them looked upset or angry in any way. But as Potter made to sit down, many people from all of the House tables stared at him, having heard how he fainted on the train. Now, Vesperra did feel a bit of satisfaction knowing that Potter would be taunted for this for a while.

The Great Hall was still silent, because Dumbledore then stood up to speak.

"Welcome!" he said, beaming. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it is best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…" After clearing his throat, the Headmaster continued, and in a grimmer voice. "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission."

Well, Vesperra definitely wasn't stupid enough to do that. After what the Dementors had done to her, she would do anything to avoid feeling that way ever again. She wasn't going near those things.

"Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks," said Dumbledore. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors."

The grimness within the Great Hall was instantly lifted as Dumbledore's eyes lit up again and he clapped his hands together. "On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The ensuing applause could hardly even be called applause—many students didn't clap at all (most of the Slytherin table included, since everyone knew how much Professor Snape wanted the position and the Slytherins all liked him), and those who did were doing so rather unenthusiastically. Potter and some others from the Gryffindor table, however, clapped hard.

Vesperra scowled and folded her arms as Lupin raised one hand in acknowledgement, hating him. Up at the Staff Table, Severus didn't clap either, and glared at the man with an expression of loathing almost worse than what he often looked at Potter with. He hated so much that _that werewolf _was taking the job he wanted and deserved. And he hated that he'd now have to both work alongside and brew monthly Wolfsbane potion for one of the enemies from his days at Hogwarts. No matter what, he would never have any respect for him.

When the applause for Lupin died completely (which didn't take long), Dumbledore smiled brightly and said, "As to our second new appointment… Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, or Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to spend more time with him remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Hagrid's applause was much louder, especially at the Gryffindor table. Once again, not many Slytherins clapped at all, and Malfoy said over the din, "_That_ oaf is teaching classes?" Vesperra couldn't say that she hated or even disliked Hagrid, since he hadn't yet given her a reason to, but she didn't think he was intelligent enough to actually be a teacher, especially since he hadn't gotten more than a third year's education. Sure, that wasn't really his fault, but that didn't make him qualified…

It took longer for the applause to subside, but finally, Dumbledore could speak again. "Well, I think that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

Vesperra was used to it by now, but it hadn't gotten old—the plates and goblets on all the House tables filled instantly with food and drink. She didn't hesitate to dig right into it, and after a good and hearty dinner and pudding, she wasn't feeling weak at all anymore. But she still wanted to talk to Severus, so she waited anxiously for Dumbledore to send them all off to bed, and left with the other Slytherins down to the dungeons. The Slytherin prefects went ahead, and told them all that the Common Room password this term was "Discord" as they passed. She went down the corridor to the girls' dormitories, and found her own. Her school trunk was already at the end of her bed.

Not as tired as she should have been, she threw open the lid of her trunk and found her journal.

* * *

Severus wanted to pass through the staffroom and go straight to his chambers, but Dumbledore didn't let him. He was letting Lupin introduce himself to all the rest of the staff, but brought him directly over to Severus first.

"I understand that you may not like him, Severus, but you must put all childish grudges aside, as you must be on speaking terms with Remus," said Dumbledore seriously.

Despite the look that Severus was giving him, Lupin was smiling slightly. Before Severus could speak, he sighed. "I know you hate me, Severus, but I am grateful that you've agreed to brew the Wolfsbane potion for me. Would you be opposed to having a merely professional relationship with me?"

_Why yes, I would._ But he didn't say that, because it didn't matter anyway. Lupin held out his hand in a "truce" sort of fashion and, forcing a painful half-smile, Severus took it. He didn't stay in the staffroom any longer than he had to.

After returning to his room, he took care of a few things and then started changing from his robes. He pulled out his journal, which he hadn't used in weeks, from within his robes, and set it aside while he pulled on nightclothes. Just as he had one leg in his silk pants, the silver _L_ on the clasp began glowing red. Severus hastened to get the other leg through and open the journal before Vesperra got impatient.

* * *

She didn't explain the details of exactly how she felt when the Dementor had been draining her of every happy thought, but she did tell him that she had felt absolutely horrible. Afterwards, she just had to ask;

_**Have you ever had to feel a Dementor's effects?**_

_Yes, a few times, actually._

_**Do you mind if I ask when?**_

_During the first Wizarding War. When Voldemort was at the height of his power, the Ministry had Dementors patrolling many places, and you couldn't avoid them._

Vesperra wondered what memories Severus was left with when he encountered Dementors, but she almost immediately decided that she didn't want to know. And since she had no intention to tell him what she was left with, she didn't expect him to want to tell her, either. She thought a moment, and then remembered something she had been wondering about.

_**On the Hogwarts Express, the Dementor left when something bright and silvery came down the corridor. It looked as though it were chasing it.**_

_That must have been a Patronus… To save you the trouble of asking, it's a force that drives away Dementors, and it takes the shape of an animal that represents all your happiness in general. You have to focus on your happiest memory while casting it. But it's a very advanced spell, so I'd guess that Lupin cast it. Dumbledore said he was on the train._

_**Can you cast a Patronus?**_

_Yes, but it's been a long time since I've needed to._

_**Do you remember what animal it was?**_

Severus had explained the Patronus knowing full well that she'd likely end up asking that. He wasn't sure why, but part of him had hoped for it. Perhaps it was because he knew she wouldn't question further, so the subject of why his Patronus became what it did wouldn't come up. And while she knew this, he would be one step closer to telling her the rest of it. It would be just a bit easier for him to one day tell her about Lily.

_A doe._

That seemed odd, as Vesperra wouldn't have suspected such a harmless animal for him. But then she reminded herself that they represented happy memories, not personalities.

_**Can Patronuses change?**_

_They can, but only after a great emotional upheaval. It's not common._

_**Are they ever taught at Hogwarts?**_

_Not generally. Many grown witches and wizards have trouble with them. Some people are unable to produce one no matter how much they practice. It depends on whether they've had happy enough memories. _

This had Vesperra even more curious, because apparently Severus, who wasn't a generally happy person, had had memories happy enough to produce a Patronus. She'd have liked to know what he had thought of while casting a Patronus, but that was another one of those things that just seemed too personal for even her, his only and closest friend, to know. If things had been the other way around, she certainly wouldn't have told him what her happiest memory was, either.

_**Well, I hope I'm never near enough to a Dementor again that I'd have to use a Patronus. But that's still something I'd like to learn.**_

_I could teach you when you're older. Despite your brilliance, I honestly couldn't expect you to be able to learn it at thirteen. Perhaps in two or three years. But for now, we should both get to sleep. We both have lessons to attend in the morning._

_**Yeah, we should. Night, Severus.**_

_Goodnight._

* * *

As she closed her journal and fell asleep, Vesperra wasn't thinking about having to deal with Malfoy again, or Sirius Black, or Lupin, or Potter, or even Dementors—well, not Dementors directly. She was thinking about someday learning to do a Patronus Charm. And she was thinking about what form it would take.

It wasn't difficult to realize that literally every single one of her happy memories had been with Severus. That was assuming, of course, that only _real_ happiness counted, and not the satisfaction she felt when something bad had happened to Potter or Malfoy or Lockhart or whoever else that she hated. In fact, she couldn't recall ever having been happy before meeting Severus.

Since _he_ was the source of all the happiness she had ever felt, it was obvious that the animal her Patronus would take the form of—if she was ever able to produce one—would represent him. And it would have to be just as graceful, as mysterious, and as aggressively protective as him. Like a jaguar. Yes, definitely a jaguar.

* * *

**This has been one of my favorite chapters to write so far. Did you guys feel awkward at the Bruise-healing Paste part? I would have. But it's perfectly innocent. Severus is the pinnacle of a proper gentleman, anyway. ^_^ God, Vesperra is so lucky. I want to live at Severus's house, if only for a few weeks... **

**And I loved writing the interaction on the Hogwarts Express. Especially how Vesperra reacted to the Dementor.**

**Please Review, and tell me what you thought! Oh, and if any of you guys are good at drawing and like to draw fanart, it would be awesome if you could draw scenes from any of the chapters or just miscellaneous things. I'd love to see them.**


	32. Book 3: Chapter 4

**Guys, I can't _believe_ that I already have over 100 reviews! And you know, this summer, I've spoiled you guys with chapters every 4 or 5 days... Well, I'm starting my sophomore year of highschool in a few days, and I'm sorry, but there's going to be a longer wait in between chapters now. Like, at least a week. Anyway, a lot of this chapter is centered around the chapter _Talons and Tea Leaves_ in the actual book, which is one of my favorites from PoA. I hope you like it! ^_^**

* * *

It was surprisingly easy for Severus to fall back into the normal routine of the school year. He woke up the next morning feeling as though he was simply continuing straight off the last year, and like the summer had only lasted a few days or so. The summer has merely been one weekend, and now it was back to being forced to tolerate people he'd rather not have contact with at all. When he thought about it more, however, it felt like the summer had been just as long as it actually had been, because he could look back on two and a half months on having only Vesperra for company (for the most part).

As much as he suddenly missed it, Severus was used to being a teacher and dealt with things as they came. He couldn't turn back time and live the summer over again—but if he could, he'd have taken Vesperra from her parents before her mother had the chance to beat her like that. Or he'd at least have gone and threatened them. But if he had only threatened them, then Vesperra wouldn't have spent the last few weeks of summer at his house…

Severus really had enjoyed having her stay with him. It had been the first time that more than one person had lived in that house since his father had died… During his days as a Death Eater, when he hadn't been in contact with his parents at all, he had stayed at the Malfoy Manor for much of the time that he wasn't out spying for the Dark Lord. Otherwise, he was staying in old, worn-down inns across Britain and oftentimes other countries in Europe, since he would be picking up information and need a place to stay for the night. A fair few times, he had been to Russia, and the inns there usually smelt much worse of raw meat, the stink easily penetrating his larger-than-average nose. He couldn't forget those days…

But in the couple years that he was nowhere near Spinner's End, his father had died of liver disease from drinking too much, and his mother had died shortly afterwards of unknown causes—if the Ministry or those of St. Mungo's had been involved, they'd have been able to tell, but the Muggle authorities were the ones to get there first and get her body. They could find no records of her or any of her relatives, so they hadn't known who to contact. She was buried without a funeral in a nearby Muggle cemetery, and her grave simply said _EILEEN PRINCE_, with no inscription and only the date of her death, which may have been wrong, because the Muggle way of determining the date of death wasn't extremely accurate.

The Ministry knew she had died, but Eileen hadn't had any remaining family but for Severus and her sister, Maureen, who they contacted—but she didn't care. It hadn't been necessary to perform Memory Charms on any Muggles, since the ones that searched the house hadn't found anything the least bit magical. Severus had taken everything magical that he had owned with him, as he hadn't planned on returning to his awful childhood home ever again. And his mother had stopped using magic sometime after Severus was born, since Tobias had scared her out of using it. Whether he had actually snapped her wand like he often said he had, Severus wasn't sure, but it must have been gotten rid of one way or another because the Muggles didn't find it. Eileen hadn't kept anything with magical properties, either. She was afraid to keep anything of the sort and knew her husband would have found it… And having been disowned by the Prince family for marrying a Muggle, she didn't inherit anything from them and was too poor to buy much. Not that she ever even went to Diagon Alley besides the year she took Severus to get his school things—as far as Severus knew, at least.

Voldemort had met his downfall in Godric's Hollow after killing Lily only a few months later, so it was soon that Severus returned home with nowhere else to go. The Ministry had been unable to contact him before then, but was able to tell him what had happened. They also had their suspicions as to where he had been and why he had been out of the Ministry's reach for so long, but Dumbledore, having already made the agreement with Severus that he would teach at Hogwarts and protect Lily's son when the time came, vouched for him and convinced Barty Crouch along with the rest of the Wizengamot that he had completely renounced the Death Eater ways and had turned spy long before the Dark Lord's downfall. For that, Severus would always be grateful, because it was only because of Dumbledore's protection that he wasn't sitting in Azkaban right now.

He was never quite sure of how his mother had died, but he thought it might have been because she was too miserable to go on living. Perhaps it had been because she was completely alone and mentally unstable. Perhaps, if Severus had been there to take care of her… that wouldn't have happened. Sometimes, he wondered if she had poisoned herself. But in all honesty, he didn't want to know.

It was then that Severus resumed living at Spinner's End, now alone with nothing but his memories and guilt to keep him company. But he didn't need or want company, not even that of his memories. And he knew Occlumency, so he could keep those thoughts and memories away. He could honestly say now that he had lived a dull life those first months of living alone in the house that he had been raised in. Severus had all but severed ties with the Malfoys after then, not wanting anything to do with any of the other Death Eaters that had escaped conviction, even if Lucius had been his old friend. But he knew that one day Voldemort would return, so he couldn't act as though he now hated Lucius. Severus couldn't even completely hate his old friend, though he hated that the man had never fully renounced the Dark ways.

Lucius and Narcissa had still stayed in contact with him, sometimes inviting him over to the Manor, which he usually hadn't refused. As a toddler, Draco took a liking to him, which he had found rather annoying. The boy had been spoiled from birth and was much too dependent on his mother. His father raised him to be an arrogant, prejudiced little prat, just like him. The Malfoys had even asked Severus to be Draco's godfather, but he refused. He didn't want to feel any sort of responsibility or closeness to anyone.

Before the next school year had started, Severus's emotional walls had grown thicker and thicker. Although, he _had_ visited his mum's grave. But only once. And though no one had seen him there, he had attended Lily's funeral. He had watched, hidden in the shadows, both ashamed and afraid to show his face, as people talked about Lily and James. No one could know about the feelings he had harbored for Lily for most of his life, so no one could know that he'd been there. Dumbledore along with much of the Order of the Phoenix had been there (not including Black and Pettigrew, of course), as were some of Lily and James's old friends and their families. But Lily's sister, Petunia, hadn't come. Even though Severus never told him, he was pretty sure that Dumbledore knew he had been there.

Then, at the end of that school year, Slughorn had retired and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the time had quit. Severus, having known that he would have to start teaching (though he had dreaded it), had asked for the Defense position, but Dumbledore had wanted him to take up Potions instead. He obviously didn't mind teaching Potions, as he had always been brilliant at the subject, but he had wanted the Defense job very badly.

And that was where everything had started, where Severus's life had turned horribly routine. He had been just as lonely as he had ever been, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He preferred to be alone. Technically, however, he hadn't been alone at all during the school years, since he was surrounded by students and staff members most of the time. But any relationship he'd had since he started teaching had been strictly professional, and any remotely good ones had been merely out of respect rather than actual liking. And when the school years ended, he had always gone back to Spinner's End for a couple months of solitude before doing it over again.

The monotony of that was broken the year Harry Potter started Hogwarts. Before then, nothing more dangerous than the usual had occurred at Hogwarts. The worst Severus had had to deal with was students dueling in the corridors or trying to sneak out of their dormitories at night. There was no reporting to Dumbledore other than for the usual staff meetings and end-of-term reports that all the teachers had to do. But for the past two years, he'd been reporting very often and there had hardly been a single waking moment where things had felt fine. Severus had even developed a relationship closer than he'd had with anyone in his entire life besides Lily. Now, the years would be much different than they'd ever been, including his summers. His summers would be more like the one he'd just had.

It was the beginning of the year, and Severus was already thinking about next summer—but it was much too early to think about that… And he wasn't necessarily impatient for the summer to come, because there were so many things that would have to happen in between, some of which he knew he was dreading. Severus took things as they came.

As he got dressed that morning, a thought that had been vaguely drifting around in the back of Severus's mind suddenly surfaced, and he stopped abruptly with his boots halfway on. Dumbledore had said that Dementors had been stationed at every entrance to the school. That meant he must have had Filch tell him all the secret entrances that he knew about, but what about others that he didn't know of? Sirius Black, along with the rest of the Marauders, had done their share of sneaking around. What if they had discovered entrances during their years at Hogwarts that no one else knew? If Lupin was trustworthy (which Severus doubted), then he would have told Dumbledore of those…

Severus then remembered the passage that he was sure only he and Lily—and now Vesperra—had ever known about, which was deep in the dungeons and led to the clearing by the Lake. For a moment, he feared that Black might know about it and try to get in through there, but then he remembered that since the lake was part of the grounds, it wasn't even really an entrance to the school… And the rock that stayed in place to hide the entrance to that passageway was still _in_ place, and it couldn't be opened from the inside. So it was impossible.

No one but him and possibly Vesperra was even thinking about Sirius Black that morning, though, because it was the first day of term and everyone was generally happy. As he passed Lupin in the staffroom on his way to breakfast, Severus glanced at him for a half-second, his eyes flashing with loathing. He didn't understand how that man could smile welcomingly at him after years of being friends with those who tormented him as a child. Sure, Severus and Lupin had never hated each other half as much as he hated Potter and Black, but it seemed rather suspicious that Lupin was willing to let go of all the mutual dislike between them. He was clearly too quick to forgive and forget.

But perhaps Lupin was just being the more mature one… _No, he isn't. Shut up._

* * *

Vesperra wouldn't consider herself excited for the term to start, but it took the better part of her morning to get over the fact that she was now a third year. It was hard to believe that she had already been through two years at Hogwarts, especially considering how long each of them had seemed to last with how hectic everything had been.

While passing first years in the Entrance Hall on her way to breakfast, it hit her how much bigger she had gotten physically as well. Her face had matured, she was starting to grow into her nose (sort of), she was considerably taller, her chest was growing in circumference, and her hips were getting wider as well. Soon, she wouldn't have to tilt her head up so much to look at Severus's face when he was standing up. And her hand would fit better into his.

As she had usually been for the past two years, she was one of the first to breakfast. The Great Hall gradually filled up around her as she ate, and not long after Malfoy arrived, he had a good fraction of Slytherin House flocking to him to hear (or rather, witness his overly-dramatized reenactment of) the full story about Potter fainting because of a Dementor. Vesperra didn't know why they expected Malfoy to know it, since he wasn't even in Potter's compartment—unless he was spying on Potter, which she wouldn't put past him. But it really wasn't the real story they wanted, they just wanted to hear about Potter being humiliated.

Without warning, she felt a rough hand on her shoulder shove her aside along the table, and she nearly fell backwards off the bench. Luckily she was able to grab the edge of the table before she did. Glancing to her right, she saw that it had been Marcus Flint, the burly, aggressive seventh year that was the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Vesperra scowled, her hand automatically moving towards her left sleeve, but she stopped herself and continued eating. All the while, she couldn't help but hear what Malfoy was telling the other Slytherins.

"—and when the train lights went out, I heard he started panicking and whimpering—you know, like a way a dog does if you step on its tail—" Malfoy immediately made a helpless expression as an imitation of what Potter had apparently been like (though Vesperra doubted it was true), and looked very much like a ferret at the moment, with his arms up to his chest and the feigned look of fear on his face. Much of the table was in fits of giggles, especially the pug-nosed Pansy Parkinson, who always hung onto Malfoy's every word.

"So then the Dementor shows up—and he's crying for his mummy at this point—and he just _faints_, but it's more like a seizure first—" Standing up on the bench now, Malfoy did an impression of a swooning fit, causing the entire table to roar with laughter. Vesperra was scowling with the sudden headache she'd gotten from all the noise.

Apparently Potter was passing the table at the moment, because Pansy's eyes lit up as she suddenly smiled maliciously, and she leaned across the table, shrieking, "Hey, Potter! Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter! _Woooooooo!_" More Slytherins laughed, and Vesperra glanced over her shoulder. Clearly, it was hardly bothering Potter at all. But she was glad that Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins were too focused on Potter at the moment to antagonize her.

She thought too soon. Just after the laughter subsided, a fourth year girl a couple seats down from Malfoy seemed to notice that Vesperra wasn't joining in with the others. "Looks like Grease-perra doesn't feel up to making fun of Potter… Maybe she's ditched her crush on Professor Snape and fallen in love with Potter instead?" Everyone near laughed and turned on Vesperra.

"I definitely hope not," laughed Daphne. "At least Snape's a Slytherin—but she'd be a disgrace to our House if she liked any Gryffindor, let alone _Potter_…"

"Are you kidding?" said Malfoy. "She's _already _a disgrace to Slytherin, and I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation before…" He probably would have continued with that topic, but he was then handed a short stack of parchment from Millicent Bulstrode. "Oh—new third year schedules… Hey, Grease-perra's is at the top—let's see what she's got…"

Vesperra's scowl didn't fade, but her eyes suddenly became very in-focus. She was glad she hadn't been chewing anything at the moment, because it would have hindered her ability to quickly retaliate. "Damn—Malfoy, give—!"

But he ignored her and drawled on, still holding her schedule, "Ugh, I have to have Care of Magical Creatures with you, and first thing after lunch, too… It's lucky I don't have Ancient Runes. I feel sorry for anyone who has _both_ with you…"

While laughing, he tossed her course schedule at her, which flew like a Frisbee because it was thicker than normal parchment. Vesperra made a mad grab at the air so she could get it before it fell in her porridge, and caught it—but it hit her hand so sharply that there was a thin, straight cut across her palm. She didn't notice it at first, however, and it took a minute for it to start stinging and bleeding slightly.

Folding up her schedule, which she had been reading before noticing her hand, she glared at Malfoy, hating him. Then, out of pure habit, she licked the blood off her hand. It was a habit she'd had since she was a small child, since she'd accidentally cut herself sometimes and automatically lick the blood off of it if it was on her arm or hand. She had never thought of it as a gross or even bad habit, so she went on with eating her breakfast without worrying at all if Malfoy might have seen.

"Did you just… lick your papercut?" said Malfoy, his voice shaking as he laughed.

The others stared, laughing slightly as well, and then Blaise said coldly, "I didn't think you would all expect anything different… Most animals lick their wounds."

Vesperra groaned inwardly and scowled so deeply that her temples hurt while, for the rest of breakfast, they laughed and went on, making comments about how she was nothing more than an animal. And then, she realized that the thing she'd been doing for years was a rather werewolfish habit. Wanting to have nothing in common with Lupin, she decided that she would have to stop doing that.

A few minutes later, she remembered the spell that Severus had given her last year—_Langlock_. How could she have forgotten that? That could have saved her from several minutes' worth of taunts from the other Slytherins… But it was too late now, because people were starting to leave the Great Hall for their first lesson. Vesperra slung her bag over her shoulder as she stood up from the table, and immediately headed off, the rest of the Slytherin third years following. She didn't like to have so many people she hated behind her where she couldn't see what they were doing, though, so she dropped back to the end of the group.

They all went straight to the greenhouses for Double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and it was a rather boring first lesson of the year. Herbology often gave Malfoy a lot of chances to hiss derogatory comments across the humid greenhouse as he thought of them. Professor Sprout, however, caught a few of them and told him that if he talked one more time, she'd give him detention.

The Herbology lesson lasted all morning, and then Vesperra ate lunch with the rest of the Slytherins. When lunch was over, she headed back outside for her afternoon lesson.

As she treaded on the damp grass of the sloping lawns down to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Vesperra was feeling a strange sort of eagerness, not unlike what she had felt during her first day of Hogwarts before her first ever lessons. Despite the fact that Hagrid was going to be teaching it, she couldn't help but be a bit anxious for her first Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

A lot of the other Slytherin third years were taking Care of Magical Creatures as well, and Vesperra wasn't surprised, since Severus had told her that it was a popular class. Along with her and Malfoy, there were also Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy (who all obviously only took it because Malfoy had), Theodore Nott, and Millicent Bulstrode. And apparently, they were having this class with the Gryffindors, because Potter, Weasley, and Granger passed Vesperra, going in the same direction.

She groaned inwardly, not exactly looking forward to more classes with Potter, especially since her hatred for him had grown over the summer. Behind her, she could hear Malfoy talking about Potter and the Dementor and thick chortling along with it. Vesperra could only assume he was talking to Crabbe and Goyle, and she had a feeling that Malfoy was using over-exaggerative hand gestures as he did.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins all approached the front of Hagrid's hut, where Hagrid was waiting with his boarhound, who Vesperra knew to be called Fang since her detention with the man. He wasn't quite beaming, but through his thick, wiry beard, Vesperra could see a wide, almost trembling smile. Looking impatient, Hagrid reminded her of a small child that was about to get what they've always wanted and was much too excited to finally teach. She imagined that Severus would feel the same if he ever got to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he certainly wouldn't look it.

Vesperra heard Malfoy start to mutter something about resenting being taught by a servant, but he was cut off as Hagrid said loudly, "C'mon, now, get a move on! Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

Hagrid started walking towards the Forbidden Forest, but then walked along the edge of the trees. Vesperra and the rest of the students followed, and it was five minutes before they stopped. Nearby, Pansy said, "Well, _that_ was a long enough walk…" sounding exhausted. They came to an empty paddock that Vesperra hadn't ever known was even on the grounds. It was large and sparse of grass, which led her to think that whatever Hagrid was showing them today would be rather large and, by default, possibly dangerous. She wasn't sure whether to be nervous or happy about that. But, courtesy of Malfoy, she knew that Hagrid had once bought a dragon egg, so he clearly wasn't worried about whether or not something was deadly…

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" called Hagrid, waving his gigantic arm and a hand the size of a dustbin lid. Some excitedly and others hesitantly, people edged their way around the fence to get a spot where they could see and weren't behind anyone. Naturally, the Slytherins and Gryffindors were mostly split up, and Vesperra got the unlucky spot right at the line that separated the rival Houses, next to Dean Thomas, who gave her a nasty look. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?" said Malfoy, voicing the question that had immediately shot to Vesperra's mind as well as most others, as the majority of the other students wore expressions of identical confusion. The Gryffindors and Vesperra felt a hint of guilt for agreeing with anything Malfoy said, however. He was a couple Slytherins down from her, but she could easily see his half-sneer, half-frown of confusion.

"Eh?" grunted Hagrid, frowning at Malfoy.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated in a slower drawl than usual, as though he thought Hagrid wasn't capable of proper human speech—which, after having given them such a dangerous book, Vesperra wasn't so sure of either.

Malfoy reached into his bag and pulled out his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_, which, like Vesperra's, was bound shut with a length of rope. Vesperra and some others took out their books too, and had them belted shut, shoved in tight bags, or clamped shut with binder clips. She scowled at her book and then at Hagrid. This wasn't proving to be a very good lesson so far, and it was because of Hagrid's ineptitude at teaching. What was Dumbledore _thinking_ when he decided to allow the Gamekeeper to teach?

Glancing around at everyone's crudely bound books, Hagrid was looking absolutely crestfallen. "Hasn'—Hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?"

Everyone shook their heads, and some narrowed their eyes, like Vesperra. _Not even _Severus_ was able to open it… _she thought. She would have felt like saying that out loud if she didn't know what everyone would think if she'd said Severus's first name, let alone alluded to the fact that she had asked him if he could open it.

"Yeh've got ter _stroke_ 'em," said Hagrid, dropping his arms with an air of superiority, as though this were the most plainly obvious thing in the world. "Look—" He walked over to the edge of the paddock, and grabbed the Granger girl's copy of the book. With hardly any effort, he ripped off the spellotape that bound her book, and ignored it as it tried to bite, running a giant, sausage-sized forefinger along the book's spine. It shivered like a cat having been scratched behind its ear, and fell open, now limp and quiet. There was a moment of silence, though not tense, but once again, Malfoy decided to break it.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" he sneered. "We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn't we guess!"

Vesperra hated to admit it, even to herself, but she couldn't agree more with Malfoy at the moment. She was really starting to doubt Dumbledore's sanity for allowing Hagrid to teach. Very carefully, she cut through the rope binding her book with a Severing Charm and, before it could bite her or ruin too many of its own pages with its teeth, she ran two fingers down its spine. It shivered and fell open in her hands, somewhat creepily.

"I—I thought they were funny," said Hagrid to Granger, losing his previous enthusiasm.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Malfoy said. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

Most of the Slytherins sniggered, and if anyone else had said that, Vesperra would have smirked. The Gryffindors, however, frowned at Malfoy, even though they were all probably thinking the same as him.

Malfoy's comments appeared to have worked on Hagrid as they normally did on most students that he liked to bully—Hagrid was looking downcast and he seemed to have lost all his confidence and self-esteem. Vesperra was too busy trying to find a page in _The Monster Book of Monsters_ that wasn't mutilated to care, not that she would have felt sorry for him at all anyways.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, sounding embarrassed and uncomfortable now, "so—so yeh've got yer books an'—an'—now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…" Flustered, he strode into the Forest (though with his large build, it was more like lumbered) and out of sight.

Vesperra gave up on the book, somehow doubting they'd even need it, and sighed inwardly.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly, with an expression of contempt. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him—"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said almost as loudly. The class was mostly quiet except for him and Malfoy, as they were all trying to open their books now. Vesperra, having already decided the book was useless, was trying to decide whether she was on Malfoy's or Potter's side. Considering the fact that she hated them both with a passion, it was hard to choose, but she was finding it just as hard to disagree with Malfoy at the moment.

"Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you—" But Malfoy was cut off by a loud squeal from a Gryffindor girl, and Vesperra had immediately stopped listening just seconds before, anyway. Her eyes had been drawn to the opposite side of the paddock, where it met the Forbidden Forest.

Vesperra was right about the creatures being large and possibly dangerous—there were a dozen of them, trotting into the paddock. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses; and the front legs, wings, and heads of eagles. They wouldn't have seemed particularly dangerous if it weren't for their steel-colored beaks that looked as though they could easily crunch a bone in half and their half a foot long, very deadly-looking talons. Each of them seemed to be staring the students down with their large, brilliantly orange eyes.

All of them also had a thick leather collar around its neck, which looked highly uncharacteristic for it being such large creatures, and those were attached to long chains. Vesperra hoped for Merlin's sake that those chains were unbreakable. She was standing perfectly still, breathing steadily despite her heart rate gaining speed, staring at the beasts.

Jogging into the paddock behind the creatures, Hagrid was holding all the chains. "Gee up, there!" he roared as he shook the chains, urging them toward the fence and tethering them to it. Truly thinking he _was_ crazy, Vesperra drew back with everyone else, unwilling to be so near the beasts. They looked even more dangerous up close… Having read her fair share of books, she knew what those things were—

"Hippogriffs!" said Hagrid, gesturing to them. He looked several times happier and more confident than everyone else, especially Malfoy, who was paling at the sight of them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Deciding that she was safely separated from the hippogriffs by a fence and that she knew enough curses to be able to defend herself if she needed to, Vesperra relaxed. She could sort of appreciate that they were far from ugly creatures, though in a highly intimidating way. And she respected that they were powerful and very magical creatures, especially since their claws could be used in some potions and had some Dark uses.

"So," continued Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around at everyone, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer—"

It wasn't a very good idea for him to say that, because most of the class, Vesperra included, shuffled further away from them. Vesperra was sure that hippogriffs could be tamed by experts, but she wasn't exactly sure that Hagrid was an expert. Only Potter, Weasley, and Granger seemed to be brave enough to approach the fence, but even those stupidly brave Gryffindors were cautious about it.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid, looking slightly disappointed that not many people wanted to risk getting their face clawed off, though he was clearly happy that his three favorite students were willing. This was the first time he had sounded the least bit professional yet today. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

To Vesperra, hippogriffs sounded a lot like Malfoy, personality-wise. Proud, and easily offended… If he had been listening and not whispering to Crabbe and Goyle, she imagined he'd have liked them more. She decided that she liked them a bit less now, but still listened intently as Hagrid went on.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt… Right—who wants ter go first?"

The class stepped even further away. Vesperra was calling Hagrid all sorts of words in her mind, most of them roughly meaning 'unintelligent' and 'insane.' Being a Slytherin to her core, she valued self-preservation more than almost anything, and she wasn't going to take a risk like that unless it was calculated. She had taken rather stupid risks in the past, but those were for Severus. That was completely different. At the moment, the hippogriffs looked annoyed and uncomfortable as they were tossing their heads and flexing their wings, trying to tug theirselves from the fence, to which they were tethered.

Looking around at them all with a pleading look, Hagrid said, "No one?"

Vesperra figured that Malfoy was likely about to make another retort, but before he could think of something clever enough, Potter said, "I'll do it."

A couple people gasped, but all of the Slytherins broke into gleeful smiles as they watched Potter climb over the fence—well, except Vesperra. But she was smirking with a malicious glint in her eyes, and she almost couldn't believe how stupid Potter was. She really shouldn't have been surprised, though… Holding her breath, she watched and hoped that Potter got his face clawed off. This lesson was starting to get much better.

"Good man, Harry!" said Hagrid, smiling widely, though definitely not for the same reason that most of the Slytherins were smiling. "Right then—let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Untying the chain on the grey one, Hagrid led that hippogriff to the middle of the paddock and slipped off its collar. It shook its head slightly, looking relieved to be free of it.

Quietly enough that Vesperra almost didn't hear him, Hagrid said, "Easy now, Harry. Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink…. Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…."

Buckbeak was staring fiercely at Potter, which only increased the suspense.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid as softly as he could manage with his naturally husky voice. "Tha's it, Harry… now, bow…"

Potter bowed, but nothing happened. The hippogriff was still staring at him, not moving. Vesperra had a feeling that he was about to strike very suddenly. Or at least she hoped so.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right—back away, now, Harry, easy does it—"

As Potter slowly backed up, still bowing slightly and looking up, the hippogriff bent its scaly front knees into a bow, to the great disappointment of all of the Slytherins. Vesperra stopped holding her breath and scowled, sure that, miles away, somewhere deep in the Hogwarts dungeons, Severus was feeling an unexplainable pang of disappointment. The other Slytherins' faces dropped almost comically, and a couple of them huffed.

"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid said, ecstatic. "Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Those words sparked new hope for Vesperra. Potter's hand being that close to a hippogriff's beak _couldn't_ end well…

But it did, and Vesperra groaned inwardly again as it happened. Potter walked slowly toward the hippogriff and patted its beak, which the beast seemed to be enjoying. All the Gryffindors and even some of the Slytherins broke into applause at Potter having managed to not get himself maimed, but Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, and Vesperra were left scowling.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid rather jovially. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him! Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint, an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…."

This time, Vesperra didn't want to get her hopes up, so her scowl didn't fade. Potter climbed awkwardly up onto the hippogriff, and Hagrid slapped its hindquarters, saying, "Go on, then!"

She couldn't help but be hopeful, though, as soon as the hippogriff's wings shot outward and it took to flying around the paddock, that Potter would fall off. It was a big enough paddock that it took a minute or so for it to fly all the way around, and Potter looked as though he might fall off at any moment. He clearly wasn't as good at riding a hippogriff as he was at riding a broom… But he wasn't high up enough to die if he fell.

When the hippogriff landed rather anti-climactically with Potter still on it, the class cheered all but for the same four students that didn't clap the last time.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid as Potter, looking slightly nauseous, slid off the hippogriff's back. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

The class was a lot less reluctant to face the hippogriffs after Potter's success. Vesperra climbed over the fence cautiously, figuring that if Potter could do it, anyone could. Soon, no one was left outside the fence, as nearly everyone had gained confidence, and anyone who hadn't didn't want to look like a coward.

One by one, Hagrid untied the hippogriffs, and appeared to have regained his thread. Vesperra chose the inky black one just after Hagrid untied it, so she could get it before anyone else did and just get it over with. As she approached it slowly, she stopped abruptly when she heard a voice to her right.

"I wouldn't even be _trying_ if I were you, Grease-perra…" She didn't have to turn her head to know it was Pansy Parkinson, and that the girl was smirking madly. "You heard Hagrid—they're easily offended. So it wouldn't be very smart to let them see your face."

Vesperra ignored her, but didn't scowl like she normally would have. She was still staring straight at the hippogriff, and she knew it would be a horrible idea to scowl at it. It turned its head curiously at her and, without breaking eye contact, took a small step towards her that suddenly seemed like a very large step because of the deadly talons that were within swiping distance from her face. Slowly backing off a little, Vesperra lowered her head and bent her knees to bow, and felt her heart pounding harder and harder in her chest with every beat. After a second, she raised her head and stepped back even more, making sure not to blink and trying to stay calm. Though Hagrid hadn't mentioned it, she was sure that the beasts could smell fear.

The next few seconds were agony, not knowing what the hippogriff was going to do, and standing so close to a creature that could tear off her face so fast that she wouldn't even know what happened. But then, it lowered its own head and knees into what was, unmistakably, a bow. Both relieved and amazed, Vesperra stood straight and inched towards the hippogriff, reaching out hesitantly. For a moment, she thought that she was crazy for doing this, but it would be cowardly to stop now. _Cowardly and smart…_

When she patted the hippogriff's beak, it let its head and eyelids drop lazily, clearly enjoying it. For one wild moment, she didn't see the hippogriff as just a beast and even wondered what its name was. She came to her senses, though, and quickly backed away again, feeling she'd had enough and not wanting to practice anymore.

All around her in the paddock, the rest of the class was nervously bowing, some having a harder time than she'd had and others an easier one. Vesperra went and stood near the fence, distancing herself from the hippogriffs and with nothing better to do than just watch. Most of the others managed to get their hippogriff to bow at some point, but Longbottom was running repeatedly backwards from his, who apparently didn't want to bow. Vesperra smirked at that, taking it as confirmation that hippogriffs _could_ indeed smell fear. So far, no one had gotten hurt at all, but she started wondering what the point was of Hagrid even telling them to open their books.

Her gaze soon met Malfoy, who had just bowed to the same hippogriff Potter had dealt with. A few seconds later, Buckbeak bowed back, and let him pat his beak. Malfoy did so looking disdainful and yet, particularly smug.

"This is very easy, drawled Malfoy rather loudly. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it…. I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Before Malfoy even had time to finish his sentence, the hippogriff had reared up and slashed him right across the arm with one large, steely talon. Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream that nearly made Vesperra laugh, and fell over. Hagrid was immediately over there and wrestling an angry Buckbeak back into his collar. But Vesperra was only vaguely aware of Hagrid's or anyone else's presence anymore, because she was too focused on what had just happened and the current state Malfoy was currently in—curled up on the ground, his robes darkening with the blood heavily spilling from his gash. Her eyes were alight with uncontainable excitement and she was struggling to keep from smirking madly. Everyone else was panicking at the moment, however, so they weren't going to notice her facial expression, especially not through the curtain of greasy blonde hair hiding her face.

"I'm dying!" yelled Malfoy, still sounding very high-pitched. Though she knew he wasn't really, Vesperra hoped that he was. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid as he got over to Malfoy, suddenly looking very scared. "Someone help me—gotta get him outta here—"

_Aw, really? Why can't we just leave him on the ground? He'll make good food for all the hippogriffs…_ Vesperra wanted to let herself go into a maniacal fit of laughter or at least punch the air several times in celebration, but she had self-control. She watched as Granger ran to hold open the gate and Hagrid scooped up Malfoy and hurried out of the paddock to run up the slope to the castle.

Seeing Malfoy in hysterics like that was almost better than seeing him being attacked by a hippogriff. It was almost impossible to believe, what with how quickly it had happened, but Vesperra readily accepted it and was happy beyond belief.

She walked with the rest of the class, who were following Hagrid at a walk, and didn't mind that the lesson had ended so abruptly. The rest of them seemed very shaken; Vesperra seemed to be the only one that was completely calm—actually, she was better than calm. The only things on her mind were that she now loved hippogriffs—Buckbeak especially, that she was extremely glad Hagrid had become the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and how this was by far the best first day at Hogwarts she'd had yet.

But the other Slytherins were all very angry about Hagrid and worried about Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle seemed unsure of what to do, as they were obviously lost without their ringleader. Millicent and Theodore were muttering curse words under their breath, all of them towards Hagrid. Vesperra heard Nott saying, "What kind of teacher brings a beast like that into a school, and for third years, anyway?"  
Pansy Parkinson was actually crying, which only boosted Vesperra's spirits. "They should fire him straight away!" she was saying.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas from several feet away. Crabbe and Goyle finally had something to do but look confused, and flexed their muscles threateningly. Vesperra had to agree with Dean on this one. He hadn't been listening to Hagrid when he said not to offend a hippogriff. The whole situation was even better considering, since Malfoy had gotten exactly what he deserved and more.

However, she would consider herself neutral between the Slytherins and Gryffindors, because she wasn't the least bit worried for Malfoy (quite the opposite, actually), but she didn't care about Hagrid, either. It was almost inevitable that Hagrid would be fired, but she didn't care—at least the man had had a good run.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy as they made it into the deserted Entrance Hall. She ran up the marble staircase, and the Slytherins and Gryffindors parted ways, most of the Slytherins still muttering about Hagrid and heading to the dungeons.

"I've noticed _you_ haven't said anything," hissed Millicent about halfway down to the Common Room. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott all looked to Vesperra as well, but kept walking. "But you're probably _glad_ Draco was almost killed, weren't you?"

It was useless to deny it, since it wasn't exactly a secret that she hated Malfoy—well, she hated nearly everyone. In too good of a mood to stay purposely silent, Vesperra sneered, "Well, _that_ much is obvious, isn't it?"

The rest of them glared at her, but didn't do anything worse. Since the lesson had ended quite early, there was still some time before dinner, in which Vesperra had nothing to do but sit back in her dorm and let the scene of Malfoy's attack replay over and over in her mind. At dinner, everyone was still angry with her, but with Malfoy still in the Hospital Wing, they weren't as enthusiastic about the taunting. He normally did most of it, after all.

She ate her dinner calmly and without her usual scowl, but was pushed aside yet again as older Slytherins joined the third years in talking about the hippogriff that attacked Malfoy and coming up with alternate versions of the story so they could get Hagrid fired. Being wholly apathetic about the entire thing, she didn't listen in, but couldn't help but hear some things.

"Alright, I say we all agree to say that the hippogriff just attacked out of nowhere if they want us to give testimony," said a fifth year. Crabbe and Goyle looked utterly confused at the word 'testimony,' but didn't ask.

"And that Draco wasn't even anywhere near it—"

"And it just chose him randomly and leapt over—"

"And would have clawed his head right off if he hadn't been quick and raised his arm over his face."

"Perfect. Oh—and add that Hagrid didn't even notice him on the ground until after a minute.

"One problem, though," Pansy said slowly. "_Grease-perra's_ not going to stick to that story." She jerked a thumb towards Vesperra, who had a mouthful of beans at the moment. Only some of the group looked to her, and most of them simply regarded her with side-glances.

"She _better_," growled the same fifth year, "if she doesn't want to be hexed."

Vesperra could have scoffed, saying that he obviously didn't know what she was capable of, but that probably wasn't the best idea. Instead, she threw them all a quick glare and continued eating.

"It would be a lot easier if we just made sure they don't ask her," someone else said. "But who would believe _her_, anyway?"

* * *

The news of Malfoy having been attacked by one of Hagrid's hippogriffs had traveled around very fast, and had easily reached the ears of the teachers. They all seemed worried about Malfoy and disapproving of Hagrid at the moment, but Severus felt guiltily happy that the kid had been clawed by a hippogriff. From what Vesperra told him, he had been the one to provoke it and clearly deserved it.

Apparently ashamed or afraid of being fired, Hagrid was missing from dinner. Severus was almost jealous of Vesperra for having had a better first day than he did.

* * *

For the next few days, Vesperra walked with a new spring in her step. Though there was no way Malfoy was still in any pain (since Madam Pomfrey would have been able to heal his gash within minutes), he was still missing from classes and meals. She was in a much better mood than usual, especially with the insults from her fellow Slytherins being toned down without Malfoy to lead them.

Her other lessons had mostly been good starts to the year, especially Transfiguration, in which the first thing McGonagall did when the entire class was seated was transform into a cat right before their eyes. Most of the Slytherins gasped and clapped once or twice, and then McGonagall explained all about Animagi while Vesperra took extensive notes. Though it wasn't a practical lesson, she found herself very interested in it.

Her notes ended up being several pages of parchment long, and she wrote rather small. By the end of class, her hand was cramping and she made a mental note to develop her own shorthand in the near future. Professor McGonagall assigned them an essay on the laws surrounding Animagi. It seemed that the other Slytherins were somewhat disgruntled to have such a long essay after the first Transfiguration lesson of the year, but Vesperra went straight to it as soon as she could, researching more than was necessary simply out of curiosity.

The more she read about them, the more Vesperra thought about what it would be like to become an Animagus. It took years and was very dangerous, as so many things could go wrong, but she felt that being one would be extremely useful and, as childish as it sounded, just plain cool. McGonagall had said that the first and most important thing anyone aspiring to be an Animagus had to do was to know for sure what animal they would transform into. It would represent your personality, and so Vesperra was automatically sure that Severus would turn into a jaguar. But she spent a while trying to figure out what her own Animagus form would be…

It would have to be something vicious, possibly an animal that spends most of its time alone… and one that the rest of the animal kingdom avoided. Vesperra figured a crocodile might be likely, but then she wondered if her being a Parselmouth would automatically make her a snake. A snake _would_ fit her personality just as well…

Either way, you had to register with the Ministry to become an Animagus, and you couldn't register until you were of age. So it would have been extremely illegal as well as dangerous for her to even try, especially since not registering after becoming an Animagus would be punishable by a sentence in Azkaban. Vesperra wanted nothing less than to be surrounded by Dementors. The idea didn't completely leave her mind, though—she considered studying to become one once she graduated Hogwarts.

The next day, when she had her first Ancient Runes lesson in the morning, she decided that she liked it. It was taught by Professor Babbling, who was a dark-skinned, middle-aged witch that spoke with a strange accent whose origin Vesperra couldn't quite place. She was rather quirky as well, but took her subject seriously, so Vesperra's first impression was one of respect.

It was one of the less popular extra classes, so students from all the Houses were intermingled. The only other Slytherins were Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, and then there was Hermione Granger, at least half of the Ravenclaws in third year, and Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff. Vesperra was unable to get a table alone, so she shared with Nott, as he was in her own House and always left her alone.

Professor Babbling first spoke to them in what could only have been the Ancient Runic language, and then repeated her lecture in English.

"Knowing the history of the language is extremely important before learning the language itself," she explained. "You must know why certain words mean what they mean, and their connections to the people that originally used the language—to animals, forces of nature, and ideas bigger than life itself." As she went on to talk about the exact history, Vesperra kept her eyes on her parchment and took notes while she listened, but quickly and briefly glanced up every minute or so. The history of Ancient Runes turned out to be far more interesting than History of Magic, especially since it was explained by someone who was alive and didn't speak with a droning voice. It was much more complex than goblin rebellions, though, and it was almost difficult for even Vesperra to keep up. Despite this, Ancient Runes had already become her favorite class besides Potions, simply for the fact that she would never have to see Malfoy in it.

* * *

Severus would have considered his first week back the same as usual, especially in that he sneered every time he passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Lupin wasn't pathetic like Quirrell had been (though Severus _would _consider him untrustworthy), nor was he annoying and pompous, like Lockhart. He was perfectly friendly—but not overly friendly—to all the rest of the staff, who seemed to like and trust him, and he left Severus alone just as everyone else knew to. And that was what bothered him.

Everyone else trusted him in spite of the fact that he was a werewolf, and the man didn't appear to hate Severus at all. True to the nature he'd held all through his years at Hogwarts, Lupin neither liked nor disliked him. This left Severus frustrated, as he couldn't understand the man. He just _knew_ that the werewolf couldn't be trusted, but Lupin wasn't giving him any reason to think so besides what had happened in the past. It was impossible to know what his true intentions were without using Legilimency, and Severus didn't want to get that close to him.

On Wednesday, just before lunch, Severus entered the staffroom to find Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Lupin standing around the old wardrobe where the staff sometimes kept their cloaks.

"—in there," Lupin was saying.

"You're sure, Remus?" said McGonagall.

"Positive. However, instead of just getting rid of it right away, I have the perfect idea… but I'll need the headmaster's permission first."

Warily and somewhat suspicious, Severus walked across the paneled staffroom to the teachers around the wardrobe and raised one eyebrow as though to ask, "What's going on?"

Lupin noticed, and said, "We have a Boggart in our wardrobe, Severus."

Just then, the staffroom doors were pushed open once more, and in walked Dumbledore, looking as pleasantly calm as ever. Lupin smiled and walked over to him in two large strides.

"Ah—Headmaster," he greeted. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in question, causing his glasses to slip a little down his crooked nose, smiling. "A Boggart moved into the wardrobe here very recently—less than an hour ago, I think—and I wondered if you'd let the staff leave it so I can let my third years practice on it."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, actually," said Dumbledore. "They've yet to have a practical lesson, haven't they? By all means, leave it in there for your lesson."

"Thank you, Headmaster. I have the Slytherins this afternoon and the Gryffindors tomorrow… And I did have something different planned, but tackling a Boggart will be a perfect first lesson of the year."

"Indeed it will, Remus. Now, let's see what the House Elves have prepared for lunch, I'm rather hungry…"

Severus glanced once more at the occasionally rattling wardrobe before following them into the Great Hall for lunch. While he ate, he frequently looked at Vesperra at the Slytherin table, wondering how she would take her first class with Lupin.

* * *

The one lesson Vesperra was not looking forward to at all (besides History of Magic, of course) was Defense Against the Dark Arts. She wasn't the only one to have predisposed feelings about the class, though—some of the other Slytherins already didn't like him because of his shabby robes. That was mainly Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, however, as they thought whatever Malfoy thought.

It was a few minutes after they all sat down and took out their books that Lupin entered the room from the door in the back. As he passed Vesperra, he seemed to notice her scowling, because he moved his forefinger and thumb near his lips and outstretched them as he smiled, clearly indicating that she should brighten up her mood. She only narrowed her eyes more, not caring that Lupin would know she hated him and have no idea why. He'd be _very_ surprised to know how much she knew about him…

Making his way to his desk, he set down his briefcase and stayed standing to face the class.

"Good afternoon," he said calmly. "You won't be needing your books today—only your wands. Today's will be a practical lesson."

The rest of the Slytherins looked considerably more eager at that, and looked around curiously at each other before putting their books and quills back in their bags and taking out their wands. Vesperra did so warily, wondering what Lupin had in store for them, and admittedly glad that they were actually having a practical lesson. However, judging by the book that Lupin had assigned them for the class, the curriculum seemed to be all about Dark creatures. Would they be going up against something dangerous? As a werewolf, would he have even less of an idea of what was dangerous and what wasn't than Hagrid did?

When everyone was ready, Lupin said, "Right then, if you'd all follow me…"

They all left their seats and followed him out of the classroom, and Vesperra could see that the other Slytherins were likely hoping that this wouldn't turn out to be another lesson like Hagrid's. They'd be even more worried if they knew what he was…

Surprisingly, he led them to the staffroom, which was completely empty. As he ushered them all inside and closed the door when they were all in, Vesperra looked around at the paneled room. She had stood outside to wait for or find Severus a couple times, but had never actually been inside it. It wasn't anything special, really—just a few mismatched chairs and an old wardrobe next to the wall—but then it suddenly wobbled on its own, and everyone looked quickly towards it.

"It's only a Boggart," said Lupin calmly. "Nothing to worry about."

Almost no one was reassured by this, and still looked apprehensive as they stared either at the wardrobe or at Lupin.

"Boggarts normally live in dark, enclosed spaces—in wardrobes like this one, underneath beds, sink cupboards… anywhere that's small and where light doesn't reach. The one in that wardrobe moved in no more than a couple of hours ago. Both Dumbledore and I thought it would make excellent practice. But first, we need to know what exactly a Boggart _is_."

He glanced around, but no one had moved or made any inclination of knowing what a Boggart was. Having skimmed the textbook, Vesperra _did_ know, but she almost never willingly answered a question in class unless asked directly. She wasn't like Granger, whose arm shot up at anything sounding remotely like a question as a reflex.

"Anyone?" said Lupin. "I'm sure at least one of you can tell me… Hm. Very well then. A Boggart is a creature that will transform into the worst fear of anyone who sees it. We can only assume that the Boggart in the wardrobe has not yet assumed any form, because no one knows what a Boggart looks like when he's alone. When I let him out, he will transform into each our worst fears. _But_, we will be at an advantage… Can anyone tell me why that is?"

This time, a couple people moved, but they merely shuffled their feet and looked as though they were too unsure to offer an answer. But Lupin wasn't going to let everyone get away with not participating this time.

"Vesperra, you seem like you know the answer," said Lupin, smiling at her. Everyone looked to her.

Vesperra immediately furrowed her brow, hating to have Lupin speak directly to her, and especially that he was using her first name. She wondered if he had just guessed that she might know or if any of the other teachers had talked about her, because she had been glaring at him moments before, not looking at all like she had known the answer. But she wasn't going to pretend she had no idea.

"Because it'll be confused, with so many of us in here," said Vesperra, her cold voice seeming to seep into the awkward silence rather than breaking it. If Lupin felt that it was off-putting, he didn't show it.

"Precisely," said Lupin. "The Boggart won't know what to turn into, and may end up trying to transform into more than one thing at once. I once saw a Boggart do exactly that—he turned into half a slug. It was disgusting, but not frightening in the least. Now, all you need to repel a Boggart is a simple charm—though it requires force of mind. What really finishes a Boggart off is _laughter_, so you need to force it into something comical."

This was where Vesperra suddenly didn't feel so sure that she would be able to fight off a Boggart, because she rarely laughed, even if something was rather funny. But most people would consider her sense of humor very sick. She only ever got the urge to laugh when something bad happened to Malfoy or Potter (or any of the other several people she hated), and then sometimes when she was talking with Severus…

"We'll practice the charm without wands first," said Lupin. "After me, please… _riddikulus_!"

Vesperra had never had any problem with pronunciation, so she didn't feel the need to repeat it with the rest of the class, who were saying it rather dully. It wasn't even difficult to pronounce… Lupin looked as though he were about to frown, but then caught himself as he must have realized that he wouldn't get much enthusiasm out of the Slytherins.

"Good," Lupin said, starting to pace in front of them. "But that was only the easy part—the word alone is not enough. Now, in order to demonstrate the rest of it, I'll need one of you to help me…"

After a few moments of tense silence in which Vesperra backed up, _definitely_ not wanting to help, Lupin sighed and said, "Daphne, why don't you come up here?"

Looking rather reluctant to but not necessarily fearful, Daphne broke off from the class and warily approached Lupin.

"Now, Daphne, what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" he asked kindly.

She first hesitated to divulge something that personal, which Vesperra didn't blame her at all for, but Daphne said, "A chimaera."

"Chimaeras…" said Lupin, more to himself than to Daphne, "mercifully rare, and very frightening indeed. Now, with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail, what do you think you could change in order to make it amusing? I'd change the head if I were you, considering that it's the most dangerous part."

Daphne thought about it for a minute. "What if it had no teeth?"

He smiled to himself, probably imagining it. "Right, then. Can you imagine a toothless chimaera very clearly? Can you see it in your mind's eye?" She nodded uncertainly. "Good. When I open the wardrobe, the Boggart will burst out and take the form of a chimaera. You will then raise your wand—like thus—and say '_Riddikulus_.' And you must concentrate hard on the chimaera becoming toothless. If it works, which I don't doubt, then the Boggart-chimaera will lose its teeth."

His explanation was punctuated by noises made from the wardrobe wobbling against the wall. Lupin turned to the rest of the class and continued.

"If Daphne is successful with the Boggart, it should shift his attention to everyone else in turn. So I want you all to take a moment and think of what frightens you the most, and how you could make it amusing."

Vesperra honestly hadn't ever thought about her worst fear before. She had grown up in a home where she was constantly living in fear that her parents were going to have a fight all of a sudden or take their anger out on her, but she had gotten used to that. And she didn't even have to fear that anymore, thanks to Severus. But what _actually_ frightened her…? She couldn't think of any particular creatures that she would be afraid of more than others… What about Dementors, though? Those were just horrible… Although, it was more that she hated them rather than being frightened of them.

Vesperra tried to think of many things, but none of them, however deadly, scared her more than anything else would. She wasn't scared easily. There wasn't a single thing that could approach her and would have her running or screaming or even shaking in fear. What is she just feared death? Or what if she feared something intangible that couldn't be represented by a Boggart? What if she feared _nothing_? Was that even possible? She didn't know.

"Is everyone ready?" asked Lupin. Everyone else nodded, and Vesperra couldn't bring herself to ask for more time. Part of her was convinced that she would be the one exception and that the Boggart would either disappear or reveal its true form when it saw her.

"Alright, Daphne, we're going to back away, so you can have a clear field. I'll call the next person forward," said Lupin.

The Slytherins didn't have to be asked twice. They all retreated to the back wall at once, with Vesperra at the very end of the line. Daphne looked nervous, but not as nervous as she could have been, as she held her wand out and at the ready.

"Okay, Daphne, on the count of three," Lupin said, pointing his wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One—two—three—_now_!"

A jet of sparks flew from his wand and hit the doorknob. It burst open, and out leapt a beast tall enough to reach the ceiling with the head of a vicious lion, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail. It looked ready to kill, and several of the other students backed further up against the wall. It let out a roar louder than anything Vesperra had ever heard, but Daphne yelled, "_Riddikulus!_"

There was a noise like a whip crack, and suddenly the chimaera's gums were void of teeth, making it look like a baby. A couple people chuckled at the sight, and then Lupin shouted, "Tracey! Forward!"

Daphne ran back to the wall and Tracey walked forward, looking uncertain. There was another crack, and where the chimaera had stood was a gigantic, twelve-foot long centipede scuttling towards her. She screamed, but then raised her wand and cried, "_Riddikulus!_"

The centipede turned into a long, orange balloon, which was open on one end and zooming around the room as it was propelled by its own air.

"Blaise!" shouted Lupin.

Blaise walked forward and—_Crack!_ The Boggart was now a werewolf, and it raised its head toward the ceiling and howled a very chilling howl. Vesperra immediately looked to Lupin, who was frowning slightly.

"_Riddikulus!_" yelled Blaise, and the werewolf's howl became a kitten-like meow. It stopped and looked around, confused.

The Slytherins continued to go forward and the Boggart continued to change, but Vesperra wasn't paying that much attention to everyone else's Boggart when she was still trying to figure out what _she _feared most—if she even feared anything. Although, she almost wished that Malfoy were here, because she was sure his Boggart would have been a hippogriff. And she was strangely pleased to see that Crabbe's Boggart's form was a column of fire, which he turned into a waterfall of chocolate. _Figures…_

"Vesperra! Go!" yelled Lupin suddenly, and she stepped forward with her face set, not wanting to look like a coward, but at the same time dreading it, for she still had no idea what she feared most.

_Crack!_ The chocolate waterfall disappeared into what first looked like nothing, but then Vesperra realized that the Boggart wasn't at eye level and glanced down.

About ten feet from her was Severus's body, limp and extremely pale, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. His eyes were wide open, and yet unseeing, still, and lifeless… His black hair was even darker than usual, matted to his face with blood, and more blood was dripping from his slightly open mouth. And he was completely still. His chest was still and not heaving to show that he was breathing, his face was motionless, and none of his fingers made the slightest twitch. He was dead.

There was a loud intake of breath, but it couldn't have been Vesperra's, because she could no longer breathe. It was everyone behind her, including Lupin. But no one said anything else.

Vesperra completely forgot that this was a Boggart and that Severus wasn't actually dead—or maybe she hadn't. Perhaps she was vaguely aware of it, but that didn't matter, because she couldn't bear to see this. She hadn't expected this at all, but, if she had been able to think rationally at the moment, she'd have thought that it should have been obvious in retrospect.

All the blood had left her face and she was as pale as the dead Boggart-Severus, and she couldn't breathe or even move but for trembling. This was an even worse feeling than she had felt because of the Dementor on the school train. Rather than forgetting Severus had ever existed, she was seeing him dead… _Dead… no…_

Her knees buckled without warning and she slid to the floor. Trembling and struggling to keep tears from leaking from her eyes, she tried to keep her wand raised and to say "_Riddikulus,_" but she couldn't. She couldn't breathe, and she couldn't speak.

Vesperra didn't know whether it had been several minutes or merely seconds after the Boggart had turned into dead Severus, but at some point after she had slid to the floor, Lupin had stepped in front of her. There was a loud crack, and the Boggart had turned into a floating, silvery orb. Lupin forced it back into the wardrobe with his wand, then turned back to the class, looking quite pale himself, as well as a bit confused.

"That… ends the lesson for today," said Lupin, not looking at Vesperra, who was still on the floor. "Five points to Slytherin for each person to tackle the Boggart. Your homework, please read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in next Tuesday. You may all leave."

As Vesperra tried to regain control of her breathing and her muscles so she could stand up again, the rest of the Slytherins passed her and whispered amongst themselves. She wasn't looking at them, but she knew they were all staring at her, making speculations after seeing her Boggart. Her breathing was hardly evening at all and her heartbeat was irregular, as she wasn't only feeling the leftover fear and immense hopelessness—she felt humiliated, because everyone had seen it. Everyone knew.

It wasn't until the last student had left that Vesperra managed to force herself to a standing position, but she was still very pale and taking shallow breaths. Lupin was looking at her with what looked like confusion mingled with sympathy.

"It's alright, Vesperra," he said softly, "it was only a Boggart…"

And then rage boiled over her, and she looked up into Lupin's face with a scowl of as much hatred as she could muster—not that she needed to try very hard.

"Of course _you_ don't care…" she hissed, the evidence of tears coming on in her voice. "You _hated_ him!"

She only dared look at Lupin for another second, since she knew she might have lost control if she stayed any longer, but that second was long enough to see his jaw drop slightly, as he was clearly wondering how on earth she knew that. But she didn't care that she had said too much, for she wasn't exactly thinking rationally. With that, she turned around sharply and walked briskly over to the wall to grab her schoolbag where she had left it, and let her feet take her out of the staffroom and to wherever they wanted to go next.

* * *

**Well, I certainly enjoyed writing the Care of Magical Creatures Class from Vesperra's point of view, as well as the extra information on Severus's background. _And_ of course, a lot of you were right when you guessed that Vesperra's boggart is Severus, dead. My heart was pounding really heavily just before I started writing that part, and I almost started crying. **

**I won't give away anything specific, but I will tell you that something extremely important will happen in the next chapter. Any guesses as to what that is?**

**Please review! I mean it! I _live_ off reviews!**


	33. Book 3: Chapter 5

**I'm sorry you guys had to wait a week for this. Stupid Muggle school... But tanks for being patient, and thanks for all the awesome reviews! I _really_ think you're going to like this chapter... **

* * *

Her head was pounding with the force of the sudden, boiling anger she had just felt, and her backside still hurt from its direct collision with the floor as she had lost her ability to stand minutes earlier. But physical pain was irrelevant, because what had just happened continued to haunt her, and in a far worse way than the feeling the Dementor had given her. Though she would never forget it, _that_ feeling had easily been treated by eating. All she had needed was some warming up, and events to distract her and make her think of other things for the time being. Now, however, she didn't want to be around people. She felt too sick to eat, and she wasn't even sure if she wanted distractions. They wouldn't work, anyway.

How could Vesperra have not known that Severus's death was what she feared more than anything else? It should have been obvious… She would have been devastated if that had been real. No—devastated was nowhere near strong enough of a word. She would have been broken. Absolutely broken. And at the moment, she was already feeling _very_ broken.

The same thoughts circled her mind over and over as Vesperra walked aimlessly through the corridors. _I just saw Severus dead… They've all seen it, they all know how much I care about him… and he was dead…_ It may have been just a Boggart, but it had felt very real. Vesperra couldn't push the image of what she had seen from her mind, so it remained at the surface. She was sure that if anyone were to look straight into her eyes, they would see Severus's dead body reflecting in her pupils rather than their own faces.

Perhaps what had hit her worst was all the blood. Not only did she fear Severus dying, but she found it even more difficult to bear thinking that his death was painful. If he _were_ to die… she'd want him to go peacefully. But she didn't want him to go at all. The mere thought of it brought her so much pain—physical and emotional… but this wasn't the mere thought of it. This was the memory of it. She had _seen_ it, whether it was real or not.

And Vesperra wasn't sure whether she even wanted to forget it. What would forgetting it do for her? She had learned something… at least she now knew what she feared. A lot of people didn't know their own fears. All the other Slytherins had known, but those were stupid things. Those were things that could hurt them physically. Well, it wasn't exactly stupid to fear something deadly like a chimaera or a werewolf, but those may not have even been their worst fears. It was likely that those had been the physical manifestations of their close-to-worst fears. But her fear was something far deeper, far more personal than anyone else's. Vesperra had very little that she cared about, and therefore little to fear. That didn't always include her own life… because she knew she'd give it up for Severus. It was rare for any Slytherin to care more about anyone else's life more than their own.

It wasn't only the sight of Severus's dead body that was haunting her, though—it was, just as much, how she had felt. That feeling had actually surprised her. Even if Vesperra had known exactly what her Boggart would have been beforehand, it wouldn't have mattered, because she still would have been rendered incapable of breath, speech, and conscious movement. She figured that she should have known all of this before, but it wasn't often clear to anyone what was very dear to them until they were about to lose it—or, in Vesperra's case, in a simulated situation in which they lost it.

Vesperra had so far been able to prevent herself from crying. But her face was ice-cold and still very pale, and the lines of her face were so deeply ingrained that she looked several years older. Not that anyone could see her, anyway… As she walked slowly through the corridors, she felt like a near-empty shell, full of nothing but emotions that were all jumbled together and indistinguishable from one another. There was nothing solid inside of her, nothing real that she could identify. The shell wasn't strong enough to hold everything in forever, though. At some point, it would crack. She only hoped that it wouldn't shatter all at once.

Lupin was likely still in the staffroom, and Vesperra couldn't even imagine how confused he must be. But she didn't care. _Let the werewolf be confused…_ Suddenly, her empty, aching feeling turned to anger, because that's all she knew how to do. When you're confused, you get angry. It was easier than trying to figure everything out.

After that Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, she hated Lupin even more. Now, it wasn't just for him having tried to kill Severus when _they_ were students at Hogwarts—it was personal. Technically it had been personal before, since anything having to do with Severus was automatically personal to her, but it was on a deeper level now. Vesperra wasn't even sure exactly why she was so angry at Lupin. Perhaps because he had made her face something she never wanted to see? Or, even more likely, because he had actually tried to look sorry for her. _How dare he?_ She didn't need his pity, especially not when it wasn't even real.

Vesperra hoped he wouldn't follow her. He was the last person she wanted to see right now—not that she wanted to see anyone. Her feet dragged her through deserted corridors and, at some point, she didn't even know where in the castle she was anymore. She wasn't paying attention, anyway. All she knew was that she was definitely not going anywhere near the dungeons. They would all stop her once she entered the Common Room and start tormenting her worse than ever… They'd ask questions that she would ignore until she finally lost control and cursed one of them.

It was lucky that this at least had happened during what was originally supposed to be a double lesson, so she wouldn't have to attend anymore classes that day. As skilled as she was at focusing when most others couldn't, she knew that anything a teacher said would pass right through her ears and, on its way through, would get stuck to the jumbled mess of other thoughts and would become just as indistinguishable as everything else.

In time for dinner, her feet had taken her unwillingly to the Great Hall. A large crowd of students came in behind her just as she arrived and, not sure why, Vesperra continued walking and went to the Slytherin table. She couldn't explain to herself why she didn't leave and retreat to her dorm during dinner while no one was in the Common Room. She did not want to eat. And she wanted nothing less than to face the other Slytherins. She didn't even care whether anyone thought her a coward. Going to dinner was just a part of her routine that she couldn't abandon, even when it would make much more sense to do so than not.

* * *

"Excuse me, Severus—would you mind speaking with me for a moment?"

Lupin spoke casually, and yet there was the faintest hint of urgency in his voice. He had walked slowly up to Severus when the latter entered the staffroom before dinner. Narrowing his eyes, he wondered what Lupin would want with him. It could only be professional or personal, and the man wasn't holding any papers of any kind—so that meant personal.

Knowing that Lupin would insist if he said that he _did_, in fact, mind (and also admittedly curious as to what he had to say), Severus made a subtle movement of his head as though to say, "Fine." The other man started walking to one of the corners of the staffroom, gesturing for him to follow. Most of the rest of the teachers had left and gone through the door that led to the space behind the Staff Table in the Great Hall, so the room was almost empty but for them and a couple other teachers.

"What is it?" growled Severus after following Lupin to the corner. He made sure that Lupin was the one with the walls behind him and to one side, because Severus never liked to have that trapped feeling, even if it was in merely a conversation between colleagues.

He had become that way after growing up in a house where his Muggle father had often advanced on him and his mother so that they were backed up against the wall or in the corner, cowering in fear and waiting for the punches to start. That habit was part of what had made him such an excellent spy, along with the inescapable paranoia he'd suffered from for years—well, not necessarily suffered. It was a good thing to be on your guard all the time.

Leaning against the wall, Severus folded his arms and raised one eyebrow curiously.

"Well, Severus," said Lupin calmly and quietly, though somewhat hesitantly, as if he was starting to regret having decided to tell him this. "As you likely remember me saying, I had the Slytherin third years take on a Boggart as practice after lunch."

Nodding slightly as a reflex to confirm that he did, obviously, remember, Severus watched as Lupin paused to frown and immediately change his tone of voice. He wasn't enjoying being this close (even though they were a few feet apart) to a man that he hated, but he reminded himself that he had to at least attempt to keep a semi-professional relationship with him.

"Well," continued Lupin slowly, "one of the student's Boggarts was you, dead… I thought you should know."

The news hit him as though he had been thrown against a wall—Severus's heart stopped abruptly as the wind was knocked out of him, and he felt sudden pain in his back. But he didn't give any of this away. His face hardened and every muscle in his body threatened to stiffen, but he forced himself to relax. He did, however, tighten the fingers of his right hand over his left arm, which he habitually held whenever he folded his arms. Lupin didn't notice, as his eyes were still on Severus's face.

He first glanced sideways at the room and turned his head very slightly so he could listen for a moment and check whether anyone was still in the room without turning around. Still holding his breath and hardly moving his lips, Severus looked straight at the man standing in front of him and said, "Their name?"

"What?" said Lupin, cocking his head slightly and furrowing his brow. Severus wasn't sure whether it was because he hadn't spoken loud enough or if Lupin simply didn't understand the question. He already knew the answer to his own question, anyway, but he needed confirmation.

"The student's name, Lupin," Severus said irritably. "Who was it?"

"Vesperra D'Monicas," he replied after drawing a slow breath and exhaling. "I assume you know her personally?"

That was another question that caught him off guard. He feigned a look of slight confusion. "Why would you assume that?"

"You underestimate my intelligence, Severus," said Lupin with the smallest of smiles. "I don't know the details of your friendship with Miss D'Monicas, but you must be more than simply student and teacher. She said that I hated you. Why would she think that?"

Alone, her Boggart didn't necessarily count as evidence towards this. To anyone else, it would have seemed that Vesperra could simply have feared him dying because he was her favorite teacher and, as many of the students thought, she could possibly have had a crush on him. But she had apparently admitted that she knew Lupin hated him (or used to hate him, at least). _It must have been in a burst of uncontrollable anger,_ he figured. _Vesperra would never be stupid enough to say that while she was in her right mind._

And then, he felt his own anger boiling over. Rather than turning into a scowl, however, Severus's expression hardened even more, and his upper lip was starting to curl on its own, Expressing anger much worse that what could be shown into a scowl. Lupin didn't even deserve one of his scowls.

"You will tell no one," said Severus dangerously, staring directly and intensely into Lupin's eyes, his own black eyes fathomless.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Severus."

He had been waiting only to hear that. Though his experience told him never to trust a werewolf, least of all Lupin, he didn't stay to say anything else that would give Lupin a good reason never to tell a living soul about him and Vesperra. Severus could have suggested they make an Unbreakable Vow, or at least threaten him with death if he ever mentioned it to anyone, but he was sure that Lupin would already know that Severus wouldn't be above killing him. And he didn't even want to look at that man's face anymore.

Without hesitation, he swiveled around on his heel and strode to the door, then passed through to the Great Hall, not knowing nor caring whether Lupin was following behind him. Severus ignored the glances from Dumbledore and the other professors that were obviously curious as to why he had arrived several minutes later than the rest of them, and found his seat. He didn't act as though anything was out of the ordinary, and just ate, though he stabbed his steak a bit too aggressively.

_He's smart enough to figure out that Vesperra and I must be friends, but he's still an idiot,_ seethed Severus, scowling at his plate. _Did it never cross his mind that perhaps some of the students had _real_ fears, traumatizing fears? Apparently, it didn't… And he never thought that someone's worst fear might be extremely personal, and that they wouldn't want it displayed to the whole class, either._

Severus wouldn't have been so angry about that if it hadn't involved Vesperra. He felt a pang in his chest for her, and for what she must have felt when she saw her Boggart. Part of him was a bit surprised that she feared his death more than anything… Could she really care about him _that_ much? And then another part of him felt touched.

Tearing his fixed gaze from his plate, he looked at the Slytherin table, not expecting Vesperra to be there. But she was, and even from up at the Staff Table, he could tell that she felt terrible. She was poking around her plate, which was still full of food, and not eating any of it. Hardly a minute later, she got up and left the table, walking out of the Great Hall. Severus watched her leave, and had the sudden urge to follow her. Or at least retreat to his office and talk to her through the journals. But he doubted she wanted to talk to anyone right now.

* * *

It was rather lucky that Malfoy was still in the Hospital Wing, because if he had been there to see Vesperra's Boggart, dinner would have been much, much worse.

Vesperra sat as she normally did, almost hunched over the table and looking only at her plate. Though she was still feeling sick, her stomach ached, so she tried to eat, if only a little. But she couldn't bring herself to lift a single chunk of carrot to her mouth. And that was partly because she was putting more of her energy into ignoring the comments of the others at the Slytherin table were making.

They had all arrived and immediately been in a better mood when they saw her there.

"We noticed you didn't come to the Common Room, Grease-perra," said Pansy almost gleefully as she sat down. "Where have you been?"

"She probably went directly to Professor Snape, to make sure he was still alive," Daphne answered automatically, as if they had rehearsed this. Vesperra wouldn't have put it past them to do that.

No one laughed hard, but quite a few of them chuckled. All the Slytherins liked Professor Snape, so they wouldn't want him to die either—but they knew they could have some sick, twisted fun taunting her about it.

"And then she probably confessed her undying love for him, but he must have rejected her, or else she'd be smiling," added Tracey. "Maybe. I'm not sure, because she never smiles…"

"But now we know what _would_ make her smile…" said Pansy, obvious laughter in her voice.

"_Snape!_" several of the Slytherins said at once.

They were unrelenting. For the next fifteen minutes or so, they continued with everything they could think of that would hurt her worse while she was in this state. Now, they were all thoroughly convinced that Vesperra was in love with Severus. The worst part was, she couldn't blame them for thinking that, after what they had seen. They had no reason not to think so. What other explanation was there, besides the truth? And she could _not_, under any circumstances, tell them the truth. Vesperra didn't feel the need to explain herself to anyone, least of all _them_. Enduring their taunts wasn't as horrible as the prospect of anyone knowing of her relationship with Severus.

But it was still horrible. Soon, Vesperra was focusing so hard on restraining herself that she could no longer tell whose voice belonged to who. It was just a jumbled mess, just like everything else was at the moment. All she knew was that Theodore Nott was the only one not speaking. The unimportant words were slurred together now, meaning nothing, and everything else—words like 'love' and 'Snape' and 'sickening'… they stuck out clearly, and they were like the dull blows that she was used to feeling. Though those words were not accompanied by the ones that would give them context, they still made sense to Vesperra somehow. But she'd have preferred it if nothing made sense.

Vesperra just wanted all of them to shut up—and she meant _all_ of them. Not just the third year Slytherins that were sitting around her; everyone in the Great Hall. She wanted no more noise at all… no noise, except for Severus's voice.

She could have cursed them, and she would have if it weren't for her damned self-control. Sometimes she hated that she possessed any control. It was a curse just as much as it was a gift. Severus had praised her on her ability to control herself in the third week of her first year at Hogwarts, at which time she started priding herself on that ability, but when people knew you could keep yourself from fighting back, they kept saying those things that made you force yourself into submission in the first place. Ignoring them doesn't help, no matter what people say. They don't care if you don't show emotion on the outside, because they know they're hurting you on the inside.

Several curses ran through her mind, as if begging her to use them and arguing with each other about which one of them would cause more damage. _Merlin, I'm going mad, aren't I…?_

There was always _Langlock_, though. It would shut them all up and wouldn't hurt them at all, so she wouldn't be punished. But that was the problem—it wouldn't hurt them. And she wanted to hurt them. There was no way that she would stay calm enough to _only_ use that spell once her hand was on her wand…

Suddenly having the first rational thought that she'd had since the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Vesperra stood up abruptly and walked right out of the Great Hall, which she should have done much earlier. She never should have come to dinner at all… but she hadn't a choice.

Now would have been a good time to go to her dorm, but Vesperra didn't feel like it. When she entered the dungeons, she just wandered around, still not quite sure where she was going. It was, however, easier to think while surrounded by the dampness of the stone dungeon walls and the dim light provided by the lit torches along the corridors. Vesperra felt more at home. That was to say, she felt closer to Severus, even though he wasn't even down there.

The memory of the Boggart still fresh in her mind, she kept walking. Things were always easier when you just kept walking. All of this—whatever you would call it; emptiness, aching, _madness_…—was now clearly because of buildup. She hadn't yet allowed tears to escape her, nor had she made a single noise after yelling at Lupin. As stubborn as she was, she couldn't stay like this. She didn't want to, not even for another minute… and Severus wouldn't allow it. She wanted to talk to Severus.

From then until she heard the distant footsteps and unintelligible noises of conversation that meant the Slytherins were returning from dinner, Vesperra continued to walk around. But she had then done so with more of a purpose, and she was able to clearly identify the primary emotion she was feeling at the moment—impatience. When she was sure the majority if not all the Slytherins had entered the Common Room, she waited a good ten minutes before setting off in the direction of Severus's office. Somehow knowing for sure that he'd be in there and not in the staffroom, she knocked, and with their special knock.

* * *

He had been surprised to hear that knock, because he hadn't thought she'd want to talk to him. But he opened it immediately nonetheless, glad that she had come. Severus took one look at her face and almost winced from the pain it gave him—she didn't look like she'd been crying or even sad… She looked lost.

As he let her in, Vesperra took in his face. It was the first time she'd seen it alive since lunch. He didn't question her at all as he paused to put the usual Imperturbable Charm on the door, and he had given her a look of what seemed like understanding.

"I suppose you already know, then?" said Vesperra as Severus turned back around. Her voice was oddly choked, having not been used for hours.

"Lupin told me," he said quietly, feeling too sad for her to be angry at that man right now. But she scowled at the mention of him. Severus thought to mention what else Lupin had told her, but she was clearly going through enough at the moment. It would be best if she just didn't know, even though it was partly her fault that Lupin now knew that they were friends. He didn't blame her.

Noticing that Vesperra looked unsure of what to say, he placed his hand in between her shoulder blades and led her to the couch only feet away from them. She complied without question, and then sat very close to him. After seeing him dead earlier, she needed to be close to him.

The moment they sat down, Vesperra shamelessly pressed herself into Severus, burying her face in his robes. He could feel her shaking against him, and felt another pang, right in his chest again. He hated for her to have to be like this.

"You're alive," she choked out, finding that her shell was cracking. At least it was in front of Severus. That was the only way she would have let it happen.

Slightly too surprised to react at first, Severus wrapped his arms around her and started rubbing soothing circles on her back. Her erratic breathing started to calm somewhat. He lowered his face, pressing his cheek against her head, and said into her hair, "Of course I'm alive… The Boggart wasn't real, Vesperra. I'm here. I'm alive."

Though those words were meant to be comforting (which they had been), they only weakened Vesperra's shell. Severus's voice seeped into the cracks and filled the void with nothing but kind words and care, and she overflowed. It was too much for her to hold. Her shell burst, too full, and unleashed upon Severus what he never thought he'd see.

Vesperra slowly moved her head away from him, and flattened down the part of his robes where her face had just been with her hand. She only looked into his eyes for a second before glancing down as though something had forced her to look away. It seemed that she was struggling to explain something, because she kept opening her mouth and closing it, unable to get a word out every time she tried. Her chest convulsed as though she was trying hard to breathe, but couldn't. Jaw clenched and trembling, Vesperra succumbed to the weakness of tears, and let out a small whimper.

Very concerned for her, Severus grabbed her face with one hand, though very softly. He didn't force her to look at him, nor did he have to. Merely by gently urging her chin upward, he had Vesperra following with it out of her own free will, and she met his gaze.

"I _know_ you're alive, Severus…" she choked, responding as though there hadn't been a pause in between where she had completely lost herself. "But… but it felt _real_. W-when I saw you… _dead_…" Her voice trembled so much that if she had tried to say any more, she'd have lost the little control left in her and just wailed as she clung to him. Everything that had been bottled up for the past few hours was spilling out now, and there was no controlling or even predicting the exact contents.

On protective instinct, Severus hugged her close to him, and pressed his cheek into her head again, hushing her in what he hoped was a soothing way. "Shhhhhh…"

But she still let out dry sobs against him, and his robes were quickly becoming soaked.

"It was w-worse than Dementors, Severus…" admitted Vesperra in a whisper. "The feeling… of seeing my Boggart… was even worse than _them_…" Neither of them were sure if she had been ashamed to admit this, but it didn't matter, because she didn't care anymore. "I feel so _stupid_…"

"You're not stupid," said Severus automatically, looking at her curiously, seeing that this thought had brought her an immense amount of distress. "It's not stupid to have fears, Vesperra, I—"

"But this… that was more than just a fear… And I _am_ stupid, for not knowing what my Boggart would be…" Repeatedly pushing back the whimpers that were struggling to escape, Vesperra looked absolutely broken. Severus had never seen her like this… She was just _undone_. It was heartbreaking.

Several months ago, he had had a nightmare in which he had been forced to watch her die. He hadn't been able to stand it. He had been just as broken as her, though he was relieved more than anything when he had woken up to find her alive. This was different. Vesperra had seen his dead body knowing that it wasn't real, rather than seeing him actually die and thinking it was real. In a way, it was worse. For her, at least.

"_How could I _not _have_ _known, Severus?_" Vesperra cried hopelessly, clinging tighter to him and throwing her arms around his neck. "You're—you're _all I have,_ Severus… You're the only thing I've ever cared about, ever… And you're the only person that's ever cared about me. You're my best friend—my only friend… I… I just can't even try to imagine you, really_ dying_… I'd have nothing left… I—I should have known what my Boggart would be…"

Her words were almost too much for him. Severus's brow creased, and he thought back. After Lily, Vesperra had been the only thing he cared about, too. He knew that he would give his life for her, and he knew that he would do whatever he could to keep her alive and safe. Even if it meant killing countless others, he would still do it (though he hoped that wouldn't be necessary). Lily was dead, and he was living his life _for_ her, but right now, Vesperra was all he had that was alive.

For several minutes that seemed to last hours, Vesperra simply cried, clinging to Severus. Without either of them having noticed it at first, they were now both laying long-ways on the couch now—well, sort of. Vesperra was curled up on Severus's chest, and her legs had nowhere to go but his lap and off onto the rest of the couch. He must have subconsciously shifted himself to sit long-ways as well, to make it more comfortable for the both of them.

Severus was crying as well, though it could hardly be called crying. The tears of pain from feeling what was left of his heart shatter at Vesperra's breakdown had found no resistance as they made their way out of his tear ducts and down his cheeks. Neither of them spoke, as Vesperra wouldn't have been able to speak even if she had anything to say, and Severus just wanted to comfort her. But both of their minds were travelling to the past, unaware that the other was thinking of the same thing.

They thought of how close of friends they were, and how they had grown to care so much for each other, and it had all happened on accident. It was somewhat difficult, however, to place the exact thing that caused their mutual respect and even liking for each other to become an actual friendship. Severus thought, for a moment, that it had been the moment Dumbledore sent Vesperra what used to be Lily's journal, but then he figured that it would have been the night before that, when he had stayed up all night and watched her sleep so he could know whether the potion would work on her. But if they had never had access to the journals, it would have been much more difficult for them to have talked to each other…

Whichever it had been, since then the two of them had become closer than either of them had ever imagined that they would be with another person. Severus definitely hadn't imagined having another friend after Lily, nor had he intended it… But he wouldn't give Vesperra up for anything. He needed her. They needed each other. And for now, Vesperra needed his arms around her and one hand stroking her hair as she let out all the tears that she'd held not only for the past few hours, but also for all the times in the past year or so that she'd felt like crying and kept herself from doing so.

"Severus…" Vesperra said suddenly, even more choked-up than she had been earlier. She stirred (apart from the convulse-like heaving of her chest) and shifted slightly so she could look at him. He stared back at her deeply, as though he could make her feel better simply with his gaze. And he wished so badly that he could.

"Severus, they all—all the Slytherins know…" This had been haunting her along with everything else, but had only surfaced as a complete thought just now. She didn't know how she could stand it if she had to endure what she had endured at dinner anymore. "They all saw it, so now they know how much I care about you… And… they'll tell _Malfoy_ once he gets out of the Hospital Wing…"

Their hearts beat together and at the same pace, proving that they were both feeling the same amount of dread at this. It would have worse consequences on Vesperra than it would Severus, which was why he dreaded it so badly. He hated to see her tormented, and this would give the other students even more of a reason to do that to her…. He wanted to tell her that everything would be fine, and that they would all forget this in time, but neither of those things were true. Those children would not forget something like this, and Memory Charms would have no use in this situation.

Instead, he took a breath and said, "Whatever they assume, there's nothing they can prove… And I wish I could tell you it was going to be alright, but I know it's going to be very hard… But you're strong, Vesperra. You've braved worse. I know you can handle it, however difficult it is. I'll always be here to help, anyway."

Vesperra stared at him, not feeling anywhere near as strong as Severus said she was. And then another thought struck her, and she winced as it did, feeling it physically. Severus noticed this, and furrowed his brow more deeply. He softly brushed the palm of his hand past her cheek and held her face, his fingers getting lost in her tangle of dirty blonde hair, silently asking her what was wrong. Well, there were many things _wrong_ at the moment, but it was obvious that something specific had troubled her all of a sudden.

"Severus…" she said in a small, choked voice, feeling worse than she had a minute ago, "what am I supposed to do if I ever come across a Boggart again? How… how could I possibly turn your corpse into something… amusing? Dammit, Severus, I can't… I couldn't even raise my wand… _I was just stuck there…_ And—what if I'm alone next time? The Boggart would never change, and I would just be stuck there…"

Merlin, he just couldn't stand seeing her like this. Her eyes were red and her teeth were gritted as she tried to make sense of everything, and her head was likely pounding, just as his was. And that was a valid point. What the hell _was_ Vesperra supposed to do if she ever had to face a Boggart again? She couldn't just be doomed to go to pieces in front of a Boggart no matter what… No, he wouldn't let her end up like that.

But what could she think of that would seem amusing while she was staring at his dead body? Things tended to lose their humor in the presence of death. Perhaps Malfoy's corpse? It seemed like a plausible idea, but something stopped him from voicing it. The thought wasn't necessarily pushed from his mind, but it was pushed back slightly by a better idea. And that couldn't necessarily be called an idea, as it had come into his mind without much effort. A certain feeling had escaped his heart and entered his mind uninvited. Severus wasn't exactly keeping his mind guarded from stray thoughts borne from pure emotion at the moment, so it had slipped in easily. His mind welcomed it there, with all the other confusing things going on that night.

Almost immediately after that small thought entered his mind, Severus released most of the tension in his face and took a calm breath. Vesperra gave him a weak, questioning look.

"Here," he said softly. If Vesperra hadn't been so close to him, she wouldn't have been able to tell that his lips were moving at all.

Severus didn't hesitate, but he didn't quite rush into it, either. Paying no attention to her quickly dilating pupils, he inclined his head towards hers and, at the same time, brought her head up to his with the hand that was still holding it. He closed his eyes completely only when they were an inch from hers, which were wide, but not protesting in the least.

And he turned his head enough so that their noses didn't bump, then pressed his lips to hers.

Vesperra didn't believe what was happening when she had seen Severus start to move his head closer to hers, nor could she believe it now. Her eyes were still open when his lips touched hers, shocked, but they had relaxed and closed by themselves within a second. His kiss had robbed her of breath and a heartbeat, and immediately all the pain she had been feeling was gone. All of it. Her muscles seized up, especially those where her neck met her head, where Severus's hand was tangled in her hair to hold it firmly. Warmth erupted in her chest and her spine tingled with shivers.

But she couldn't snake her own hand around his neck or even press her face further into his, because just as the initial shock wore off and before she could physically react, he pulled away, leaving her lips outstretched very slightly. And now that he was no longer kissing her, she found it hard to believe that it had been over so quickly. She watched his expression evolve in the next few seconds; his eyes slowly opened, looking deeper than ever, and his slightly parted, pursed lips returned to normal.

"Think of that," said Severus, now brushing his thumb over her cheek to wipe the tears off.

Vesperra could only stare back at him, her gaze reaching far into the depths of his eyes. And yet, it relaxed. Her heart resumed beating and she could breathe now; it felt as though he had made everything alright with just a kiss.

And it was right then that she realized that she was in love with him. She was so very in love with him… But it wasn't just that she was 'in love'—she _loved _him. This wasn't some silly infatuation that teenagers thought they felt for someone, only to break up with them a month later… It wasn't even the way a newlywed couple felt for each other. She loved him so much that she couldn't even describe it, not even to herself. And she couldn't hide from the truth or deny this anymore, not after that… not after he had made her feel like that, with just a kiss.

Love was a relatively new concept to her. Now that she thought about it, though, she knew that she had been in love with him since her first year. Her feelings had only strengthened since them. But it would have been impossible to realize it back then, because before meeting him, she hadn't the slightest idea what love was. Oh, yes, she knew what the word meant, but she had never experienced it. Neither of her parents had ever shown the slightest bit of it towards each other or even her. For a long time, she had decided that she'd never be capable of love and had been completely fine with that. But apparently she had been wrong.

What she felt for him could be defined as nothing less than love. Vesperra knew she would give and do anything for him. And because of the Boggart, she knew that she couldn't live without him. But she had already known that.

He was the only thing she could find comfort in, and she had no intention to find anyone else. He was all that she had, and she didn't _want_ to have anything else. There was one thing she was suddenly surer of than anything, and that was that she would never, ever stop loving him. However, she knew that Severus couldn't have felt more than a fatherly or friendly love for her, though it was clearly strong. She was only thirteen, and, though she wished he could, she didn't expect him to love her the same way right now. And if he never did, even after she graduated from Hogwarts and was of age, she'd still love him. But it would have been heartbreaking to know that the only love she had ever felt had gone unreciprocated.

That kiss, Vesperra was sure, hadn't meant to him half of what it had meant to her. It must have only been for comfort, which it definitely hadn't failed in doing… And she would surely be thinking of that if she ever had to face a Boggart again, as he intended. It was the perfect thought… and a memory that happy would produce an extremely powerful Patronus—once she learned how, of course, which would be a while from then. For now, all of Vesperra's worries seemed very distant. They couldn't reach her here, in Severus's arms, anymore. Malfoy, Dementors, Lupin, and the Boggart were nonexistent in her mind.

Reveling in her discovery (or rather, having admitted something that she had felt and avoided for a long time), Vesperra smiled at Severus. She didn't say anything else, but just allowed herself to melt into him, laying on his chest and nestling her head on his shoulder, as she was getting comfortable with no intention to get up soon.

Severus felt a sudden gush of relief when he saw her smile—it had been a small one, but it had been the first sign of happiness she had showed all night. That's all he wanted—for her to be happy. When she slowly moved her head back down and shifted again to rest comfortably on him, he noticed that she seemed very calm now. Had he really done all that just by kissing her?

A very large part of him was angry with himself for doing that, though. The very first thing that had gone through his mind was: _Why the _hell _did I just do that?_ How could he have just kissed her? He loved Lily, still more than anything, and he would never feel the same way about anyone, not even Vesperra… And even besides that fact, she was _thirteen_. That was highly inappropriate… But he reminded himself, he wasn't doing it out of any romantic feelings towards her, and was sure that he didn't even have any. He just wanted to make her happy, and he wanted to comfort her. He wanted her to have something to think of if she ever had to see a Boggart again.

And as for her being thirteen, the fact that nothing romantic had been behind the kiss should have completely eased his qualms about it. They were best friends. They were more than best friends, in fact, because 'best friend' sounded like too immature of a term to describe their relationship. But, true to what he had told Vesperra's mother, there were no romantic feelings in the mix. At least not on his side, anyway. At least not yet.

He had kissed her on the cheek before, as well as several times on her forehead. And she had returned both of those gestures. The thought had come from a part of him he normally wouldn't have agreed with and partially hated for existing, but it had only been a matter of time before one of them had kissed the other on the lips.

Severus wasn't regretting it at all—in fact, he was glad he had done it. Vesperra needed it. But he was still feeling a bit uneasy, wondering how exactly she had felt about it. He had felt her stiffen the moment he kissed her, and she was now perfectly calm as she lay curled up on him. Surely she wouldn't be foolish enough to think that he thought of her that way, even if she thought of _him_ that way… But Severus cared about her too much to let the same thing happen to her that had happened to him—he didn't want her to have to feel the pain of him not loving her back. That wouldn't even be true, though, because he _did_ love her… very much. It just wasn't the same way. Perhaps she would be content with that… because she must have known that he loved her. She just had to.

Both of their minds were in the same realm again, possibly because of either physical or emotional closeness. Or it could have been a coincidence. Vesperra felt truly at peace with her arms wrapped around Severus's neck and her chest rising and falling very slowly against him. There was nothing else to say, because everything important in her mind at the moment, she couldn't tell him. She couldn't possibly tell him that she loved him. So she stayed silent, no more tears falling (though they were dried up on her face), and her lips still tingling.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that she was very tired. It must have been very late, and she'd had a long day either way… and Severus made a very comfortable thing to sleep on. It wasn't long before her eyes were barely half open. Hovering in between consciousness and unconsciousness, Vesperra thought the first thought she'd had on purpose all night… _I love you, Severus._ She knew he wouldn't hear it, but at least she could now say it to herself and be proud of it. And then she was finally pulled under by the power of sleep, and willingly.

* * *

After a few minutes, Severus thought to turn his head and look down at Vesperra's face. As he had suspected, she had fallen asleep. He smiled, liking the way she looked when she slept. Her face was so calm, and her lips were shaped in the softest of smiles. Several strands of her hair hung messily over her face, accentuating just how tried she must have been.

Severus knew that it was the middle of the week, which meant that they had classes in the morning, but he was definitely not going to wake her up and send her off to her dormitory. In fact, he was rather tired as well.

Carefully, so as to make sure Vesperra continued to sleep peacefully, Severus slid further down the couch so that his neck could rest upon the arm of the couch somewhat comfortably. His feet hung off the end of the couch (as well as much of his legs past his knees), but he didn't care. With her curled up on top of him, it was a bit difficult, but he managed to extract his wand from his robes, and used it to open the door to his bedroom, then wordlessly summoned a pillow. It flew to him, and he folded it in half before stuffing it behind his neck for extra support. That way, it left his torso at an angle that allowed Vesperra's head to still lie on his shoulder.

And then, Severus decided to summon a blanket as well. He charmed it to lie perfectly over the both of them. After sliding his wand back inside his pocket, he wrapped both his arms around her once more, and held her tight, thinking, _Goodnight, Vesperra. _With that, he drifted off into sleep, feeling only the comfort that came from her being held in his arms rather than anything else that he'd felt that day.

* * *

Vesperra's eyes opened, but not in a flutter, nor did they fly open all of a sudden. Her body had simply decided to wake up. The first thing that her eyes met was not what she usually saw when she woke up, however. Rather than the blankets or curtains of the four-poster bed in her dorm, it was black cloth barely an inch from her face. Inhaling the scent of it, she immediately recognized it and remembered everything that had happened the night before. She had sought comfort in Severus, and he had talked to her and let her cry on him… and he had kissed her. Even the memory of it made her lips start to tingle and her chest to grow warmer.

Out of habit of momentarily squeezing her pillow whenever she woke up, Vesperra made the same movement with her arms, which she realized were still hugging Severus's neck. It brought her face closer to his neck, and she smiled against him. At the same time, she felt Severus's left arm wrapped around her lower back and holding her tight to him, and his right hand stroking her hair quite rhythmically, as though he was doing so unconsciously. Perhaps that had actually been what had woken her up… But he couldn't be doing that in his sleep, so he must have been awake.

And he was. Severus had woken up about twenty minutes earlier, and had decided that, since it was still early, he needn't wake Vesperra up. For all the time he'd been awake, he had just laid there, continuously stroking Vesperra's hair and thinking. He knew she must have been awake once he felt her arms tighten around his neck, and slowly turned his head to look at her. Instead of having lifted her head off of his shoulder, she only buried her face deeper in his neck.

His neck muscles contracted against her face, but she didn't mind it. Only a second later did she realize that it meant he must have turned his head to his left shoulder and pull her head back so she could see his face. Severus looked at her calmly and with a hint of an amused smile in his eyes. She looked sleepily back at him, loosening her grip around his neck and unconsciously moving one hand up his neck and cheekbone and into his hair.

"Morning, love," said Vesperra quietly and somewhat tiredly, her voice completely unlike what it had sounded like last night. Her eyes were half-closed as she said it, her small smile a bit dazed. The words had slipped out of her mouth, but she barely had any time to be scared of what he would think about that, because—

"Morning," said Severus in the same tone. His lips had been tugged against their will into the tiniest of smiles at Vesperra calling him 'love.' He wasn't used to hearing that term of endearment (or any at all), but strangely, he didn't mind it. In fact, he felt an unmistakable rush of affection for her as he heard it.

She was surprised, yet glad that he hadn't seemed put off by that. But that didn't mean she was going to call him that all the time, now, because she had always thought terms of endearment were stupid—and that had simply slipped out in her half-conscious state. Absentmindedly feeling the right side of his face near his jawline while her elbow was supported by his chest, Vesperra noticed something a bit strange, and it got her curious.

"Severus," she said slowly, furrowing her brow slightly, "why don't you grow facial hair?" Her thumb brushed repeatedly across his lower cheek, which was completely smooth.

Since her face and tone had made a reasonable transition to this question, it had not been sudden and he wasn't necessarily shocked by the question, but he did find it rather strange. Cocking his head slightly, he looked at her curiously.

"Why, do you want me to?" he said.

The idea of Severus with a mustache or beard was so absurd that Vesperra nearly laughed at the thought of it, but then she shook her head (which wasn't much, since her head was still on his shoulder). "No, definitely not… But I've just noticed that you haven't even grown stubble overnight…"

"I use an Anti-Hair Growth potion on my face and chin every month," he explained, not at all reluctant to tell her this trivial fact about himself, though he would never have told anyone else. It wasn't that it was embarrassing, which it wasn't—it was just a personal thing that he'd never have even thought to mention to anyone. And if anyone but her had asked about it (not that they would ever be in the circumstances to ask), he would have very rudely told them that it was none of their business and, if it wasn't a staff member, he'd have given them detention. This sort of thing had crossed his mind before too many times to count, but it never failed to be somewhat amusing to him. _Vesperra must feel smug,_ he figured, _knowing that she's the only one that I allow to know me… _Not that anyone would want to know him.

"Oh," Vesperra said simply. That made sense. Letting her hand drop from his face, she wrapped both arms around his neck again. "What time is it?" she asked, not wanting to lift her head to look at the clock.

"About an hour until breakfast," he told her, automatically knowing why she wanted to know, and understanding. Neither of them wanted to get up.

_Good,_ she thought. Vesperra was much too comfortable, curled up against Severus with her heart beating directly against his, and her head fitting perfectly in the crook in between his neck and shoulder, and his arms holding her tight to himself, and… And she only just noticed that a thick, green, wool blanket was draped over the both of them, covering everything below the middle of her upper back. Severus was pulling it further around her right side and upward, smoothing it out on her back and gently pulling her hair out from under it, smoothing that down as well. He didn't even seem to be doing it consciously, and even if he was, he probably wouldn't have been thinking much of it.

That was one of the things that Vesperra loved most about Severus, and it automatically made her want to seize his face and kiss him. He always saw to it that she was comfortable before even giving a second thought about _himself_… It triggered a small explosion in her chest every time, for she was always in disbelief that she actually had someone like him. And she knew that he was actually a very selfish person, which made it even better, since he could be selfless only for her.

After a minute of comfortable silence, Vesperra shifted slightly. "Severus, I didn't make you fall behind on grading or keep you from doing anything you had meant to do last night, did I?" she said.

Severus almost looked insulted for a moment. "_You_ didn't keep me from doing anything… You mustn't concern yourself with whatever grading I might have missed. You're far more important, and _you_ needed me last night."

Normally, Vesperra wouldn't have been completely reassured that she hadn't been a burden on him last night, but how could she possibly regret it when the consequences had led to him kissing her and her falling asleep on him?

Another twenty minutes passed, with bits of conversation here and there, but mostly, they just enjoyed having each other so close. But eventually, Severus gave in to the agonizing thought that had been swimming across his mind the moment he had woken up.

"We should probably get up," he said slowly, but still catching Vesperra off guard.

"Do we have to?" said Vesperra disappointedly. "There's another half hour or so until breakfast…" She hoped she didn't sound as though she was whinging like a small child, but she wanted nothing less at the moment than to get off of Severus.

He sighed, asking himself the same thing on the inside. "If we don't get up now, we may never be able to," he said.

Vesperra took a deep breath and decided that he was right, however much she hated to have to let go of him. "Alright, then."

But neither of them moved. It would have been smart to do it quick like a band-aid, but the situation didn't exactly fit with that. Finally, Vesperra relaxed her arms and let go of his neck. Severus followed suit and let his own arms, however difficult it was, fall limply to his side. With neither of them being held to the other, they both started to sit as Vesperra pushed herself from his shoulders. It was terribly awkward and their movements were jerky as they detached themselves from each other—it was like putting a very complicated puzzle back to normal. Except puzzles weren't generally painful.

Finally, they were both sitting, but Vesperra was still rather close to him. The blanket had slipped to the floor, so she picked it up and set it in an uneven bundle next to her on the couch. Severus unconsciously started straightening her hair with his hand, as it had gotten quite tangled in the night.

"If you want to go take a shower, you can use my bathroom," said Severus.

"No, it's fine," said Vesperra. "I can just go to breakfast as I am and take a shower tonight."

"Alright, but you're still a bit of a mess,"—Severus grabbed his wand, which was behind, him, and raised it; A brush from his bedroom flew to his other hand, and he caught it—"especially your hair."

It was slightly more difficult to brush Vesperra's hair when it wasn't wet, but not so much, because it was greasy enough that the bristles slid right through most of the tangles. Vesperra enjoyed every second of it, and completely ignored the discomfort when he accidentally tugged too hard. When he was finished, she turned to sit normally again, and saw Severus move the brush up to his own hair—but she suddenly thought of something, and stopped him.

"Wait—Severus—why don't I brush your hair?" she said.

He paused, and let his right arm drop to his lap. Strangely, it hadn't crossed his mind that he had hardly given her a choice in the matter of him brushing her hair (not that she would have objected) but didn't automatically let her return the favor. Perhaps it had been because he was much taller than her and that he certainly couldn't sit in _her_ lap, or even in front of it.

"I suppose you can… if you want to," said Severus slowly, glancing from the brush in his hand to her. "But you'd have to stand up."

"I don't mind," said Vesperra at once, taking the brush from him. She really didn't know exactly why she was so eager to brush his hair, other than the fact that she was in love with him, but she stood up and quickly walked around to one side of the couch. Severus leaned up against the arm of the couch so the back of his head was level with her chest, which was the perfect height for her to brush his hair.

It didn't take long, and when Vesperra was done, she ran her fingers through his silky, black hair a couple times, liking the feel of it, despite what anyone else would think. Before she could sit back down, Severus turned around again and said, "It would be a good idea to go splash some water on your face… It'll wash off all the dried tears."

She nodded. "In that case, you should, too." At an angle, Vesperra could still see the dried-up streams of tears down his cheeks. The both of them would get a lot of awkward questions if anyone at breakfast noticed.

After they had wiped their faces, Severus straightened the wrinkles out of her robes with a charm, and it wasn't long before it was time for breakfast and they both groaned inwardly at facing the inevitability of having to leave.

"Go ahead and get to the Great Hall," sighed Severus. He was suddenly reminded of the last time she had spent the night in his chambers and the mistake they had made of not going to breakfast separately. "You have Potions with me just before lunch, anyway…"

That made her a little less reluctant to leave, and so Vesperra said, "Alright, then…" and exhaled a sigh before picking up her schoolbag from the floor, opening his office door, and shutting it behind her as she walked in the direction of the Great Hall.

* * *

Vesperra was still very happy from Severus's kiss. It rendered her so lighthearted that, if she hadn't been such a generally hateful and closed person, she'd have been skipping down the dungeon corridors like Luna Lovegood, as if nothing was wrong with the world. But actually being apart from Severus after feeling like she had been physically stuck to him jerked her back to reality, and she remembered Malfoy and Potter and Sirius Black and Lupin's existence, as well as the other Slytherins, who would likely tease her more once they saw her. Even that couldn't put her into her usual very bad mood, though. At least now, the taunts they all made about her and Severus snogging would be partly true.

Breakfast started as usual, with Vesperra being there earlier than most, and Severus arrived about five minutes after she did. She guessed that he had changed into cleaner robes after she left. When Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne were the first to show up, they giggled madly and sat down.

"What did you do last night, Grease-perra?" said Daphne, half curiously and half maliciously. "You didn't ever pass through the Common Room…"

"She probably collapsed on the floor in the corridors, crying, and just fell asleep there…" Tracey suggested casually, though she didn't even attempt to hide her grin.

When Vesperra didn't say anything, they took that as confirmation that she did, indeed, sleep in the corridors. The area around them as well as the conversation—for want of a better word—thickened as empty seats at the Slytherin table were filled. It was, unsurprisingly, easier to tolerate everything they said after having woken up in Severus's arms that morning. That didn't mean that it didn't still anger her, though. Yes, she loved Severus, and was even willing it admit it to herself now, but she hated them taunting her about it. It wasn't any of their business, and they could never prove anything.

Luckily, Malfoy still wasn't there. His return was what Vesperra was really dreading, because he would indefinitely make everything worse. For now, she could ignore their taunts and look only at her plate, but it would be harder once Malfoy reentered their ranks.

After breakfast was Charms, which didn't seem to last very long. On the way down the marble stairs to the dungeons afterwards, the other Slytherin third years passed the time by resuming the taunts where they had left off at breakfast, especially the other girls. _Merlin, will they _ever_ get tired of this?_

Annoyed and angry, Vesperra went on ignoring them. She would have hurried and gone ahead of them all, but she didn't like to have people behind her when they could easily hex her at any time. So she stayed at the back. However, she suddenly had an idea when they were very nearly to the Entrance Hall, and smirked inwardly.

"Once we get to Potions, Grease-perra," Pansy was saying, "don't go bursting into tears again once you see Prof—_Nnnnnngh!_"

Vesperra had deftly pulled her wand out of her left sleeve and aimed it at Pansy, muttering "_Langlock!_" under her breath. She felt a great surge of triumph as the girl looked back at her with an expression of utmost discomfort. Pansy furrowed her brow and flared the nostrils of her ugly, pug-like nose as she tried to talk, but all that came out was a deep-throated whine, since her tongue was now stuck to the roof of her mouth.

It took most of the others hardly a second to realize (Crabbe and Goyle took a minute or two, judging by their expressions) that Vesperra's spell had been to shut Pansy up. They promptly stopped talking, not wanting to have their tongues forced upward as well. That meant that her plan had worked—she knew that she'd only have to use _Langlock_ on one of them for all of them to understand, and Pansy was the one Slytherin she hated almost as much as Malfoy. She had been the one talking at the time, anyway.

Pansy shut her eyes tight as she failed repeatedly to force her tongue back into its normal position. Along with everyone else, she continued walking across the Entrance Hall and to the dungeons. The rest of them were all glaring at Vesperra, who didn't mind the glares so long as they were all silent. Rather than running off to the Hospital Wing, though, Pansy stayed with them the entire time they walked to Potions class. Vesperra could only assume that she intended to show Severus. That was even better.

* * *

Severus couldn't believe that that man had the audacity to chance a small smile at him after what had happened the evening before. He swept himself through the staffroom and down the Staff Table to his seat as he usually did, without greeting anyone, and yet he couldn't force himself to scowl so heavily, because he was still left with the residual happiness of having made Vesperra feel better.

He had half-expected Lupin to ask how Vesperra was doing when the werewolf had smiled at him in greeting, and was glad that he didn't. Still, it confused him that Lupin would smile at him at all in the first place—could the man possibly be feeling _sorry_ for both having Vesperra face a Boggart and for witnessing it? No, Severus would never believe that _he_ could feel sorry for either him or Vesperra. No one had ever felt any sympathy for them besides each other.

Lupin didn't attempt to speak to him anytime during or after breakfast, which Severus was grateful for. He had an hour to prepare his first Potions class of the day, which included Vesperra with the rest of the third year Slytherins, as well as the Gryffindors. When the time came to open the doors and those who were already waiting in the corridor for the lesson to start, Pansy Parkinson didn't go to her seat—she waited for him at his desk, with Tracey Davis.

"Miss Parkinson?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"She can't talk, Professor," said the Davis girl. "Look—" She pointed to Parkinson's mouth, which was oddly strained as she tried to keep it open. It wouldn't have been so clear to him if he hadn't invented the spell that had done it, but the girl's tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. Only Vesperra could have done that to her, and it could only have been for one reason. Severus didn't feel a single shred of pity for the pug-faced girl, and, in fact, was resisting the urge to smirk at Vesperra having gotten revenge for whatever the girl had said to her. He also felt rather proud of her for having been able to control herself and not cursing her with something worse.

"Gr—D'Monicas did it, sir," continued Davis, frowning.

If she hadn't quickly corrected herself and used that degrading nickname for Vesperra to his face, Severus might have been unable to stop himself from being visibly angry. His heart already gave a surge of anger the moment she had merely _begun_ to say it…

Acting as though he hadn't heard Miss Davis, he pointed his wand at Miss Parkinson's mouth and easily fixed it. Behind him, the majority of the Gryffindors entered the dungeon and started taking their seats as the two girls in front of him went to theirs. Severus glanced at Vesperra, who had her cauldron and everything ready; she looked apathetic at first glance, though he could see a malicious glint in her eye as Pansy passed her. He jerked his wand towards the door, which closed immediately, and stood in the front of the room to start today's lesson.

* * *

**I _told_ you guys something really important was going to happen in this chapter... But none of you expected _that_, did you? I've been waiting FOREVER to write this chapter... And I know some of you may not like what happened, but I've been planning that since I was in the middle of writing Book 1. **

**Anyway, please review... and feel free to draw fanart of some of the scenes in this chapter. ^_^**


	34. Book 3: Chapter 6

**Once again, sorry for the wait and thanks for all the reviews! Oh- and I've drawn a lot of fanart for this fic, which I've posted on my HP fanpage on facebook. The link to said page is on my profile. I'll make a separate photo folder for my fanart to make it easier to find the picture. If any of you have drawn or plan to draw any pictures for this fic, post them there. ^_^ **

* * *

"Today, you will all be starting your Shrinking Solutions. Judging by simply skimming the essays I assigned over the summer that you have just returned to me, many of you are still abysmally lacking in understanding of this branch of potions. This is, however, a more simple type of Shrinking Solution, and I should expect the majority of you to grasp it."

Severus automatically glanced towards Vesperra, who was by far the top student of all his third years. That wasn't saying much, though, considering that she was also his best friend and had actually woken up that morning with his arms around her. Though the morning hadn't yet challenged his temper (apart from the split second where Tracey Davis was about to say 'Grease-perra' in front of him and he thought he might have flipped out), he wasn't exactly an optimistic person, and would very much like to still be lying on his couch with Vesperra. He found himself wishing that Lupin had had the Slytherin third years on a Friday, so the morning after wouldn't have had lessons. But then he felt bad for wishing that, because he really wished that Vesperra hadn't had to face a Boggart at all.

Continuing right from where he left off, Severus explained the instructions as the students took notes. In his classes, _every _student took notes—he didn't force them to, or even tell them off for not doing so. They were simply afraid not to. However, he often didn't say anything if a Slytherin wasn't paying attention in his class, so it was really only all the other Houses that needed to be afraid. What was ironic was that Vesperra was likely the one person that took more detailed notes than anyone else, and yet she was the one person that really didn't have to. Her memory was excellent, and he'd have given her a perfect score even if she did an awful job. Then again, her skill at potion-making was one of the things he liked so much about her.

"You have until the end of the lesson to finish your Shrinking Solution," said Severus to the silent dungeon when he finished the short lecture. "Begin."

At the table closest to Severus's desk was Vesperra, who had once again managed to take that table before anyone else could. It wasn't very difficult, since no one in their right mind would want to sit the closest to Severus. And she knew it only made everyone think even more that she was in love with him, but it really didn't make a difference anymore. They had seen the Boggart, and the damage had been done. Sitting up front as she had done all last year wasn't going to change anything, and it might have been worse if she sat farther from Severus's desk, since all the other Slytherins would know that she was only doing it to try and make their taunting desist.

Knowing that Severus would grade her potion with a perfect score no matter what mistakes she made did not make Vesperra relax or care less about how well she did in the least. She didn't try as hard as she could in Potions only for Severus's approval—she did it for her own approval as well. She was a perfectionist, and couldn't stand it if she got a single thing wrong. There was more to potion-making than just memorizing ingredients and instructions, though; there was the application of other knowledge and understanding why things must be done a certain way. Potions separated the geniuses from the idiots, and she prided herself in knowing that she was in the higher range in intelligence, right up there with Severus.

Vesperra got to work immediately after Severus gave the word, having already set up her cauldron. She didn't dare look behind her, but she didn't have to look to be sure that Pansy was exercising the regained use of her tongue by hissing in Tracey's ear about Vesperra and something about Severus not punishing her. Vesperra had obviously seen what had happened from her table in the very front, and had noticed that the shadows of Severus's face had deepened very briefly when Tracey had nearly said her awful nickname. She suppressed a smirk at the thought of what Severus would have done if Tracey _had_ said it.

The lesson was mostly uneventful so far and what you could call 'normal' compared to the other Potions lessons they'd had. But, of course, this was the first Potions lesson of the year, and something interesting was bound to happen. When he saw fit to, Severus ceased the purposeless pacing around the class and moved in to observe and criticize what the students had so far.

Halfway through the lesson, when Severus was prowling through the rows near the front, he heard the faintly echoing noise of metal grinding against stone, which he recognized as the click of the dungeon doors opening. He as well as the rest of the class glanced towards the door, which was being pushed open to reveal Draco Malfoy, who had his right arm in bandages and bound up in a sling.

_Dammit, Malfoy's back…_ Those were the thoughts of several people, Severus was sure, which obviously included Vesperra, and likely all of the Gryffindors. Except in Vesperra's mind, it was scattered amongst various curse words. But it meant essentially the same thing.

Vesperra had only glanced up for a fraction of a second to see who the person entering the dungeon classroom was, and looked back down at her table disgustedly when she saw that familiar pale, pointed face topped with white blonde hair. Suddenly very angry, she continued skinning her shrivelfig, though more harshly than she had been doing a second ago, as though it had personally offended her.

Though this was the first Potions lesson of the year and Severus hadn't yet been forced to deal with Malfoy, he knew how much Vesperra was dreading this, and anything that affected her, affected him. And with him back, he knew just as well as Vesperra did that the other students' taunts about her Boggart would only become worse.

Malfoy swaggered into the dungeon, completely unlike a person that was actually injured would do. Vesperra couldn't help but glimpse him through a side-glance, and had the sudden urge to vomit. What was stronger than that urge, however, was the dread she felt, knowing that, once they had the chance, the other Slytherins would inform Malfoy that Vesperra's Boggart was Severus's corpse. But she supposed that it was lucky he returned in the middle of class, because he couldn't do anything about whatever the others told him until the class was over. So Vesperra decided to actually try and enjoy the last taunt-free half hour as she prepared her Shrinking Solution, all the while mentally preparing herself for what was to come as well.

A few tables behind Vesperra, Malfoy had stopped at Pansy Parkinson's table. Vesperra was paying attention only to her cauldron, which she was adding her carefully chopped daisy roots to, so she wasn't aware of what Malfoy was doing, but Severus was.

As Malfoy passed the table with Misses Parkinson and Davis, the former, who had been looking particularly happy and relieved when Malfoy had entered the room, stopped him.

"How is it, Draco?" she said coquettishly, which filled Severus, who was nearby, with disgust. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. Severus wanted to scowl at Malfoy's stupid act, hating how he was attempting to appear as though he had been through heroic endeavors and become a martyr of some sort, but he forced himself to look indifferent. That kid reminded Severus of James Potter almost as much as his own son did sometimes, but he was a Slytherin, and therefore he felt inclined to be decent to him at the least. If anyone besides Vesperra knew that he hated Malfoy… well, that wouldn't be good.

"Settle down, settle down," said Severus idly as he walked past, regarding Malfoy with only a side-glance. Malfoy went and started setting up his cauldron at Potter and Weasley's table; Severus stalked away, knowing that nothing good could come out of that.

As he came around to Vesperra's table, which was empty but for her and her own cauldron and ingredients, Severus leaned over her cauldron the way he usually did, with his arms folded behind his back. Viewing her face at a slight angle made it more difficult to discern her expression, but he could tell how annoyed she was. He peered at the sizzling liquid within her cauldron, which was green—not yet acid green, because she hadn't yet added the sliced caterpillars. In the past couple years Severus had known her, he had noticed that she tended to take more time in preparing ingredients than a lot of the others did. It was because she wanted to take the time to get everything perfect—and he loved how meticulous she was.

Before Severus could say anything to her, though, Malfoy called across the dungeon—

"Sir… sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

Vesperra scowled and huffed inwardly at Malfoy being such a little kiss up, but Severus said, "Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," without even looking up. He saw Vesperra's eyebrows knit together as she jerked her head towards him very slightly.

"At least there's _some_ benefit we can get out of this…" he muttered so quietly that only Vesperra could hear, smirking slightly. "And your potion is perfect so far, but you already knew that."

She smirked as well, but it was even smaller than Severus's. Even though it was at the expense of a Gryffindor, and Potter's friend no less, Vesperra hated for Malfoy to be treated well at all—especially by Severus. But she tried to stop feeling that way in spite of her hatred for Malfoy, because she knew Severus had to treat him as though he was the favorite. It was part of making sure no one suspected _their_ relationship was anything but student and teacher.

Just as Severus stood up straight to set off around the other side of the dungeon, he heard Malfoy's drawling voice again—

"Professor… Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Severus approached the table where Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley were sitting—the latter two were frowning at Malfoy, who was grinning smugly. He stared down over his hooked nose at the roughly chopped roots, which were all different sizes, and smiled unpleasantly. _Oh, this day's getting better already…._ His lank, black hair hung over his face like a curtain, hiding most of the side of his face from Weasley, who was to his right, but his nasty smile should still have been obvious from the glint in his eyes.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley," said Severus silkily as he looked up slowly.

"But, sir—!"

"_Now,_" Severus said, using his most dangerous voice and narrowing his eyes maliciously.

Clearly enjoying this and wanting to take even more advantage of the situation, Malfoy went on, "And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned."

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig." The boy hadn't done anything in particular to Severus lately, but it was always fun to exert his authority over students who needed constant treatment like this so they can learn that they're not superior to everyone else. Namely Potter.

Giving him a look of absolute loathing, Severus turned and walked away. Though unsure why, he was feeling rather evil today. He wished Vesperra had been over there to see it, since he was sure she'd have appreciated it even though it was in Malfoy's favor.

He didn't even have to check to know that Neville Longbottom was currently going to pieces, so when he arrived at the boy's table, it was no surprise to see him shaking and looking as though he had been exerting himself very hard. As Severus scowled down into Longbottom's cauldron, he looked purposely away to avoid the man's penetrating stare. As usual, the potion had been done horribly wrong.

Picking up a ladle from the table, Severus gave Longbottom a nasty look and dipped it into the cauldron. The boy had a dawning look of realization—or was it horror?—that gave Severus a strange sense of satisfaction. _So he's not as stupid as he looks, is he?_

"Orange, Longbottom," said Severus, ladling up some of the sorry excuse for a Shrinking Solution so everyone could see. All of the heads in the dungeon were turned towards them, including Vesperra's, mainly because Severus's voice always demanded attention. But apparently not Longbottom's, though. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

The boy had gone pink and was trembling from head to foot in pure fear, looking as though he might cry. This was evident even from several feet away at Vesperra's table, and she smirked, loving how frightening Severus could be… to other people, at least. She'd have liked to inspire the same amount of fear in people that he did. Sure, some of the other students were afraid of her, but it just wasn't the same.

At this point, all the Gryffindors but Longbottom were staring at Severus with looks of absolute hatred, and all the Slytherins were smirking if not smiling gleefully. Severus was smiling still more nastily, until—

"Please, sir," Granger said in that annoying voice of hers that made Severus's lip curl immediately, "please, I could help Neville put it right—"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," he said coldly, without tearing his eyes from the trembling, round-faced boy in front of him. Over at Vesperra's table, she was smirking even worse. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

At that, he glided away and down the middle aisle between the tables to returned to his desk, feeling wholly justified. Some might call it cruel, but he considered it completely fair. Besides, he was a generally cruel person. Life had been cruel to him, so he didn't hesitate to be cruel right back. Both he and Vesperra were that way—well, Vesperra was that way whenever she had the chance. She wasn't tall enough to tower over anybody, and she wasn't in any position of power, so her chances were limited. Perhaps that was why she was so vindictive when she _did_ have the chance.

But Severus hadn't just randomly picked Neville Longbottom to be extremely cruel to, nor did he despise the boy that much for being the polar opposite of Vesperra—that was a contributing factor, though. He had a very good reason for hating that kid, and it was very similar, yet quite different from the reason he hated Potter.

About fourteen years ago, when Severus had been a Death Eater and one of Lord Voldemort's most trusted spies, he had heard and delivered the Prophecy. That Prophecy could have referred to two boys, one of which was obviously Potter, and the other had been the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, who was currently on the other side of the dungeon, scared to death and hastily attempting to fix his potion. If Voldemort had chosen to go after the Longbottoms, Neville would be the Boy Who Lived, not Potter. Neville's parents would have died instead. Lily would be alive. And his life wouldn't be devoted to protecting the son of the man he hated. Longbottom was the ghost of what could have been… which wouldn't have been much, but Lily wouldn't be dead.

Severus knew that he would have stayed on Voldemort's side if Lily's life hadn't been threatened, and he knew that he'd have been sent straight to Azkaban after the Dark Lord fell—if he even fell. He was still rather confused about the Prophecy, and didn't want to take the time and effort to try and understand the paradoxes… But whatever happened, at least Lily would have lived. And he wouldn't have cared what happened to himself so long as she lived.

Longbottom couldn't be blamed for who he was and the significance he had in Severus's eyes, but he loathed the boy. It wasn't as deep a loathing as the one he held for Potter, or anything like the murderous hatred he felt for Sirius Black. Severus simply wanted to make him as miserable as possible. And, of course, he enjoyed the sense of power over Longbottom as much as he did over any other student.

This was what no one would ever understand, because he would never tell anyone. Dumbledore may have been able to assume it, and Vesperra may know one day whenever he decides to tell her about Lily, but no one else…. They would all continue to think that he was just a cruel bastard, whether they were on the receiving end of it or watching and enjoying it. And he really was. He was a cruel bastard. And Vesperra liked it, so what did it matter? In a way, Severus was doing this to Longbottom to make it up to Vesperra for him having been decent to Malfoy.

Turning back around in her seat, Vesperra returned to attending to her own potion rather than watching Longbottom struggle with his, even though she'd have liked to do that. Severus passed her at the last second her head was up and not focusing on her cauldron, his lips still curled into a malevolent smirk and him as a whole striking her as very impressive—like he always did. She was possibly more eager to see Longbottom's toad be poisoned than the other Slytherins were—not because she had any particular reason to hate Longbottom, but because Severus was getting to do it, with made it much more entertaining.

Severus waited for the last fifteen or so minutes before the end of the lesson, and passed the time by glancing at Longbottom, enjoying seeing the feverish state the pathetic boy was in, and at Vesperra as well, who was sometimes looking back at him. He then folded his arms over his chest and walked slowly through the middle aisle of the dungeon.

"You should have finished adding your ingredients by now," he said to the class. "This potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's…."

The Slytherins all sniggered and smirked devilishly, and a couple laughed openly. Severus turned his back on them all and stood near his desk as all the students but Longbottom made to put away their unused ingredients and queued up to the stone basin in the corner to wash their hands.

Anxious to see Longbottom more humiliated and miserable than he'd ever been (as far as she knew), Vesperra quickly swept all the useless bits of roots into a rubbish bin and cleaned off her table except for her cauldron, then took her ladle and made sure she was one of the first to the basin in the corner of the room. Unfortunately, so was Malfoy.

"Don't get too close to me, Grease-perra," he drawled as she started using the water jet next to his. "I've already been badly injured—the last thing I need is a disease."

She had realized that they had walked in the same strides to the corner, with him slightly ahead, when she was halfway across the room, which had given her the chance to turn away and wait a minute before getting over there, but as much as she dreaded being near Malfoy, she didn't want to be a coward. So Vesperra cast him a scowl through the curtain of dirty blonde hair hanging over her face and ignored him as she washed her hands and ladle.

In her haste to get away before Malfoy could say anything else, Vesperra realized that Malfoy must not have been told about her Boggart yet. She was relieved, but at the same time couldn't help but dread what would happen once the lesson was over. But then, she remembered that there were still a few enjoyable minutes of class left.

With the end of the lesson in sight, Severus strode purposefully over to Longbottom as all the eyes in the room followed him, some happily and others fearfully. He stopped at the boy's cauldron and swiftly pulled a small spoon out from the inside of his robes.

"Everyone gather 'round," he said, his black eyes glittering and reflecting Longbottom's face, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink into a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Slytherins hastened to form a tight circle around Severus and Longbottom, and Vesperra waited with baited breath, feeling much more eager for this than she should have been. Waking up in Severus's arms that morning had just put her in a rather good mood, she supposed.

Enjoying the sudden stillness in the room, Severus picked up Longbottom's toad, which sat amongst the slime and mess that the boy hadn't cleaned up yet, and dipped the small spoon into the cauldron. The potion was now green, but that simple fact hardly deterred Severus from his confidence that the toad would be poisoned. He tightened his long fingers around the toad, causing its mouth to open involuntarily, and he trickled the potion down its throat.

The next moment was very tense, in which neither Severus nor Vesperra doubted that what they expected was going to happen, but then, with a small pop, the toad had instantly reverted to its tadpole state, now wriggling in his palm. At once, the Gryffindors burst into applause, and Longbottom heaved a dramatic breath of relief that he seemed to have been holding in for several minutes.

Eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring, Severus stared into his palm. Cold anger was building up inside of him very quickly, even more so than it could have been in Vesperra and the rest of the Slytherins. _That's impossible. That—little—_Fuming on the inside, he reached into his robes for a small bottle of the antidote, which he promptly poured a few drops of onto the tadpole. There was another pop as the toad reappeared, now full size.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Severus coldly as he released the toad from his grip and let it drop onto the table. Vesperra, who had been scowling deeply (partly from shock), relaxed slightly. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed." That would make sure none of the little brats thought they could attempt to make Severus look like a fool and get away with it.

Disappointed, yet not as disgruntled as the Gryffindors, who were giving the back of Severus's head death glares, the Slytherins shuffled back to their desks to pick up their things. _At least points were taken from Gryffindor…_ thought Vesperra. But she was still frustrated. _Of course_ it had to be Granger… of course the know-it-all had to ruin it…. Judging by the sour look on Severus's face, he was angrier than she was.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and reluctantly started to follow her fellow students out of the dungeon classroom. But, wanting to stall the inevitable confrontation with Malfoy just another second, Vesperra let herself fall to the very back of the line and was the last in the room.

Noticing her pause at the threshold and turn around for a moment, Severus looked to her and let his scowl relax into a grimace. She blinked, and her eyes flashed strangely at him before she turned again and left. For a second, he could very clearly imagine her squeezing his hand and, speaking in a reassuring way, saying, "We'll get him next time, Severus."

* * *

"Hey—Draco—you're never going to believe it…."

As she heard those words in Pansy's voice, full of shrill laughter, Vesperra could almost feel the disappointment from Longbottom's near-suffering in the air shatter as what was left of her momentary apathy was sent to crash and burn. It would be seconds now, before it happened….

Pansy retold the story of her Boggart, her voice carefully on edge, as though she were anxious to tell it perfectly so Malfoy would have the best reaction. His eyes widened slowly as the short story progressed, his pale face suffusing with color and his smirk growing nastier.

"And I _missed_ this?" said Malfoy as the Slytherins bit back their giggles when Pansy was finished. He looked back at Vesperra, who was steadily putting up walls that were hopefully strong enough to keep his upcoming insults and taunts out. "Not that I'd want to see Professor Snape dead, but I wish I could have seen your face, Grease-perra… It almost makes me wish I hadn't stayed in the Hospital Wing so long! But of course, my injury…. I told Madam Pomfrey that I was fine, but she insisted on me staying…. I really didn't need it, though. Pain, I can tolerate."

He gave a huge, fake sigh and held his "injured" arm gingerly as Pansy beamed at him, apparently impressed.

"Ooh…" said Pansy, reaching out tentatively to lightly touch Malfoy's arm. "You're so tough, Draco…" She giggled.

Crabbe and Goyle looked more confused than usual, the latter furrowing his thick eyebrows together so that they looked like a unibrow. Crabbe opened his mouth to speak, but Malfoy noticed and elbowed him very hard in the ribs before he could.

As much as she appreciated the brief distraction from the topic of her Boggart, Vesperra found herself hating Malfoy even more for dragging out his hippogriff attack to make himself look like some brave victim…. He was neither brave nor a victim of anything. And she felt nauseated at the obviously displayed affection Pansy had for Malfoy.

Just then, they reached the Great Hall, which was quickly filling with students. That meant it was too late to use Langlock on anyone, as any of the teachers up at the Staff Table might see her wand out and directed at another student…. _Damn._ Malfoy and the others waited until they were all sitting down at the Slytherin table to resume taunting Vesperra, which Malfoy must have sorely missed during the several days he was isolated in the Hospital Wing. Well, Vesperra supposed Pansy must have been visiting him, but she wouldn't have had time to tell him anything about the Boggart in between last night and this morning.

"So, Grease-perra," said Malfoy, leaning forward on the table, nearly with his bandaged arm, as he had almost forgotten to pretend he was still painfully injured. "Did you cry? Did you faint, like Potter did when he saw the Dementors?"

It was then that those who had been present for the incident began fabricating a new story, exaggerating Vesperra's reaction to the Boggart to the extreme (it had already been quite extreme, though…) and laughing about it as though every part of it was true.

"I can't believe Professor Snape's dead body is your _worst_ fear…." Malfoy drawled in between bites of chicken and a gulp of pumpkin juice, slopping a little of it down his front in the process. Normally this would have been embarrassing to him, but they were clearly all having too much fun to notice or care. "No—actually, I can…. Of course, we all knew you were in love with him, anyway…. Ooh, I bet Lupin told the whole staffroom—so Snape must _know_! I don't think you'll automatically become his favorite student again, if that's what you were hoping for…. Even better, he'll be deliberately avoiding you now!"

Silently eating without showing any signs that she'd heard any of what Malfoy was saying but for her scowl (which could have meant anything, really, since she was almost always wearing a scowl), Vesperra suddenly stopped chewing, as a thought had occurred to her. _Merlin, Lupin _better_ not have told anyone but Severus.… If the other teachers knew… _Trying to push away the sudden anxiety, she decided to ask Severus about it later that night.

The subject of Severus's corpse having been her Boggart wasn't nearly half as painful to think about as it had been the night before, thanks to Severus. Apparently, venting your feelings _did_ help… but only sometimes. After a night of being comforted by him and all that had transpired on his office couch, Vesperra wasn't feeling miserable in the least. In fact, she would have been in a much better mood if it weren't for Malfoy. It was only the fact that he was being his absolute worst that managed to make Vesperra as angry as she was.

During the punctuated silence, she had a very strong urge to snap her head up and say icily, "Well, Malfoy, what would you say _your_ Boggart would have been, then?" But she wasn't feeling particularly bold at the moment.

As lunch was nearly over Vesperra stood up to leave the Great Hall, like many others were doing, Malfoy got up and followed, apparently not too keen to have her walk away while he was in the middle of saying something clever.

"You know, I'd hate to see the size of your kid's nose if you and Snape ever ended up having any," laughed Malfoy as he fell back to the end of the group of third year Slytherins with Vesperra as they walked through the Entrance Hall. "Not that it's likely, but whatever happens, it's either that or you ending up with nobody, because you definitely won't have anyone but Sna—What's up with you, Nott?" he snapped, looking over Vesperra's shoulder and frowning.

She turned her head as well, and saw Theodore Nott a bit to her front and left, his profile easily visible.

"Nothing," said Nott casually before breaking off from the group in the direction of the staircases.

But Vesperra had seen his expression, and he had looked quite as angry as she was feeling.

* * *

He couldn't say it had been one of his worse mornings, considering how it had started, but Severus hadn't lost his sour mood during lunch, and especially not afterwards, when he had stayed in the staffroom (McGonagall had wanted a word with him), and noticed the _Daily Prophet_ hanging on the arm of a nearby chair. One of the smaller titles on the front page stuck out to him, the thick, black words seeming to flash at him as though they were much larger and had flown across the room from the yellowing newspaper, smacking him in the face.

While the staffroom slowly emptied but for him, Severus strode over to the chair and straightened out the newspaper, and read the article titled _SIRIUS BLACK SIGHTED BY MUGGLE, NEAR HOGSMEADE AREA_.

As his eyes moved down the article, he sat down in the chair that the Prophet had been on without consciously realizing it. He let his hands, along with the newspaper, fall to his lap and his head regained alignment with his neck, facing the wardrobe on the opposite wall. It gave a wobble, but Severus paid no notice to it.

How could he only be learning about this now? Albeit, his mind had been elsewhere during breakfast, and he generally avoided listening to the conversation of his colleagues beside him… and they may not have been talking about Sirius Black, anyway. Though it concerned the escaped mass murderer that the Ministry had been failing to recapture for over a month now, there wasn't much to tell and so the article wouldn't have taken up the space for a headliner story. Muggles couldn't exactly be trusted to know what they've seen, either.… But this was evidence that Black could be near Hogsmeade right now. Would that man be so stupid as to go walking around a village full of wizards and witches, where his face was plastered over every shop window in Wanted posters? Who knows, Black was mad… but if he could escape from Azkaban, who's to say he couldn't disguise himself so even the Dementors couldn't sense him?

This was news to Severus, and he was starting to get rather angry with himself for having separated his mind from everyone else more than usual that morning, and not hearing this sooner…. Why didn't someone tell him? Why didn't Dumbledore, at least, tell him…? Well, they likely assumed that he already knew and obviously wasn't going to willingly start a conversation with any of them about it. If he was correct in thinking that, then his colleagues must have learned well from their experience with him.

Severus remained in the low armchair for the next couple minutes, thinking about Sirius Black and feeling that sense of vindictiveness appear again. Those feelings always arose and bubbled up with hatred when his mind traveled to either Black or Potter (who, when they _did_ appear in his mind, often did so together. In his life after Hogwarts and prior to this, he had always avoided thinking about the _Marauders_—even in his mind, he spat the word—, but now that a bigger situation was staring the whole of the British Wizarding World in the face, it would both impossible and stupid to keep them from his mind, even if he wanted to.

Was there a chance of capturing Black soon? Or did this news make no difference? There was a large possibility that it wasn't even valid, and that the Ministry was just trying to look like they had a lead when it was actually just a Muggle tramp that the woman had seen…

And then, his train of thought was interrupted as the door leading into the staffroom was pushed open, momentarily looking as though it had opened on its own, because it was a second before anyone came in. Severus heard a voice say, "Inside, please," and students began filing into the room.

He knew at once that this was Lupin's class, because he both recognized the voice and remembered from yesterday that Lupin said he had the third year Gryffindors on Thursday afternoon. So, even after what had happened yesterday, the man hadn't abandoned the entire Boggart idea? Perhaps he figured that Gryffindors ought to be much braver than Vesperra and the rest of the Slytherins, so they'll do a better job… or, even more likely, he probably assumed that none of the other students could have minds as dark as Vesperra's, considering their age. And that was most likely true.

Severus was merely mentally noting how stupid Lupin was and that werewolves never learn—he didn't care at all if the Gryffindors had to face their worst fears. Especially since Longbottom was in this class. Oh, this would be perfect… Severus's eyes glittered at the thought of what that pathetic kid would have to face as he looked around at the students, and he sneered as Lupin entered. He hadn't even glanced directly at the man since yesterday before dinner.

Lupin made to close the door behind him, and Severus immediately said, "Leave it open, Lupin, I'd rather not witness this."

Lupin had clearly seen him before having been about to close the door, which led Severus to wonder, nastily, why the man would have thought for a second that he'd want to stay and watch the students face their Boggarts. He most certainly was not going to, even though he'd have liked to see what Potter and Longbottom feared most—those would have given him good ideas.

But Severus had had bad experiences with Boggarts. After Dementors and werewolves, those creatures were definitely his least favorite—or, more accurately put, his most hated. He didn't want to be near them if he could help it, because the Boggart could easily turn to him. Severus was not going to face whatever it would become, especially not in front of other people—least of all _Potter_.

And that was the thing, really. He wasn't sure what it would become, just like Vesperra hadn't been. Just three years ago, and all the years of his life since he was nine leading up to then, he would have believed his Boggart would obviously turn into the dead body of Lily Evans, and he wouldn't have had a second thought about it. That had been set in stone, simply because of who Severus was. Now, however, he wondered… could his worst fear have changed? Could it be more than he had thought—could it lie beyond the obvious? Would a Boggart now turn into Voldemort, returned to full power, or even…Vesperra's dead body?

It was very difficult to decide. How could he possibly decide whether he'd prefer to see Lily or Vesperra dead? Of course, Lily had already died… so seeing her dead would force him to remember all the mistakes he'd made. Vesperra was currently alive; to him her death would mean that he had once again failed to protect something he loved, and that he was once again completely alone. And he had seen that before, in that nightmare…. That had been one of the worst feelings he had ever felt.

Whichever it was, it would be an unimaginably horrible scenario. Severus would _not_ risk anyone knowing what he feared.

The class paused as Severus got to his feet and strode past them so quickly that his black robes struck out immediately behind him, billowing dramatically despite the lack of a breeze in the room. He didn't even throw a nasty side-glance at anyone, as he wanted to just leave as quickly as possible. But then, as he reached the threshold, an idea occurred to him and he turned on his heel.

"Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin," said Severus, "but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

There. That wasn't all he'd have liked to say, but it was the best he could do for the moment to get his justice. Severus was completely aware that everyone in the room but Lupin was glaring at him with intense dislike, but didn't care. It did, however, annoy him that Lupin merely raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," said Lupin, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

His lip curling, Severus narrowed his eyes and bit back a retort as he turned back around and left, shutting the staffroom door with a snap. _Yeah, right,_ he thought bitterly. _The day Longbottom accomplishes anything but wetting his pants in my class is the day Vesperra makes friends with Malfoy._

* * *

Throughout the afternoon lessons, Malfoy hissed comments about Vesperra's Boggart across the classroom (though he didn't have to stretch very far, since he made a point of sitting very close to her) and in the corridors whenever he could. All things considered, she had thought he'd be worse than this.

Dinner looked like it was going to be a meal full of insults with everyone taking turns while others stopped to actually eat, but not too long after the Great Hall filled with students, the Slytherins caught wind of what had apparently happened in the third year Gryffindors' Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that day.

A fourth year girl leaned over as they started to sit down; she had a strange expression, as though she were trying not to smile and feeling guilty that she had to try not to. "Have you lot heard about the Boggart from earlier—?"

"Yeah, we already know," said Blaise calmly, yet somewhat rudely. "What d'you think we were teasing Grease-perra about last night?"

"No, not _that_, Zabini—" the girl started to say, only to have a boy that was sitting next to her lean forward as well and cut in, taking over the story.

"Grease-perra's not the only one with Snape for a Boggart…. You all know Neville Longbottom?"

Their curiosity piqued, the third years nodded slowly, but frowned, because they were all clearly remembering earlier that day in Potions when Severus had failed to poison Longbottom's toad. Vesperra's spoon hung suspended over her goulash for a moment, but she quickly corrected herself to seem disinterested and continued eating, though now listening intently.

"The Patil twins and that annoying Lavender Brown girl went around telling anyone that would listen about their lesson with Lupin earlier," the boy continued, his Irish accent quickly becoming thicker in his excitement, "and they were saying how that Longbottom kid's Boggart turned into Professor Snape." He let out a short laugh.

"Wait—_just_ Professor Snape?" asked Malfoy, voicing what Vesperra was thinking. "He wasn't doing anything?"

"Not in particular. At least, I don't think so. But that's not even the half of it—apparently Longbottom actually managed to defeat the Boggart-Snape, and you'll never guess what he turned it into…"

"Well, spit it out!" said Pansy.

The girl who had originally been talking was looking rather frustrated until then, and she seized her chance to end the story on her own terms. "Longbottom had him in a dress—and a vulture hat, old women's boots, fishnet gloves and everything…. Professor Snape's not going to be happy when he hears about it," she finished darkly.

It seemed that most of the Slytherins in the immediate area were struggling with the decision of whether to laugh or look angry. Even to Vesperra, it was quite hilarious and satisfying to know that Severus was Longbottom's worst fear, but she and all the rest of them liked Severus, and they didn't like anything that made fun of him. This was ironic, though, considering that even Malfoy, who all but idolized Severus most of the time, commented on his hair and nose. But that was almost always when he was comparing him to Vesperra.

"You know, we really shouldn't be surprised…." said Malfoy, being the first to clear his throat and speak to break the awkward silence. "It's been obvious that Snape is the subject of Longbottom's worst nightmares… as well as Grease-perra's wildest fantasies."

He smiled smugly, and made an involuntary motion to fold his arms as he often did in triumph, but had apparently forgotten that he was supposed to be pretending that he was still in a lot of pain from his arm. Clearly hoping neither Pansy nor her friends saw, he moved his arms apart again.

And that's where the previous taunting resumed, but certain gaps were filled with conversation about Longbottom's Boggart and its _Riddikulus_ form. Vesperra was angrier about Severus having been in a dress than the taunts. The image that came into her head at the thought of it was admittedly funny, but that was merely because of the absurdity of it, and not out of satisfaction at seeing Severus in a humiliating state, as it must have been for the Gryffindors that saw it.

At least it was drawing attention away from the story of _her_ Boggart.

* * *

Severus and Vesperra had a lot to tell each other that night. They talked no less than an hour longer into the night than they normally did, Severus explaining about Sirius Black having supposedly been sighted, followed by the both of them having a discussion over it. It was basically the same internal debate that Severus had had with himself. He then mentioned how the Gryffindors had faced their Boggarts, and that's when Vesperra told him the story that had been traveling around the school like wildfire since that afternoon.

As that girl had predicted, he wasn't very happy about it. Severus didn't have to dread facing anyone's taunts, since he was a teacher and one that was feared no less, but he knew that, once the story got around the entire castle, the image of him in a dress would be in their heads whenever they looked at him. And since Longbottom had faced his Boggart, would he fear Severus less now?

_Well,_ thought Severus as he closed his journal that night, _I suppose I'll have to torture the little brat even worse now._

* * *

One good thing about Longbottom's Boggart was that the story had actively prevented the story of Vesperra's reaching the ears of too many people. The two stories had been mixed by the torrent of students passing the story along and others hearing snippets of it from across the corridor and passing along what they thought they had heard. People would think that Longbottom's Boggart had been Severus and that he had changed it into Severus's corpse, and then when they were told the entire real story, they tossed aside everything about Severus having been dead and assumed those were just random, irrelevant rumors. No one who knew the truth, who were mainly those of Slytherin house, bothered to try and spread the story of Vesperra's Boggart, because they were all distracted by Longbottom's.

Though Severus hated that Longbottom had theoretically one-upped him, he was glad for this as well, because it meant Vesperra was often being ignored in favor of more interesting gossip—and that was much better than being constantly tormented. That didn't mean, however, that Malfoy and the others didn't still make nasty comments about her obvious love for Severus, especially when Severus passed them in the corridors.

It wasn't as if she wasn't used to this level of torment, because the things they said weren't any more frequent or cruel than they had been in the past, but it was the subject of the taunts that bothered Vesperra.

"Have you confessed your love for him yet, Grease-perra?"

"You might as well, since he'd be an idiot to not have figured it out yet."

"Not that he'd ever want you.…"

It was the same thing, over and over, with the words tweaked a bit every time, and new things added occasionally. And she wasn't sure why, but Vesperra hated it even worse now that she was aware that their taunts had some truth to them. Before she had admitted to herself how deeply in love with Severus she was, she had hated them relentlessly teasing her for something that wasn't even true (or at least she hadn't believed it was). Now, she hated that they were teasing her for something she couldn't help.

Above all, Vesperra hated that they had any idea of her feelings for Severus. Granted, it was better than any of them being given solid proof and knowing for sure how much she loved him, or knowing that she and Severus actually did have a very close relationship… but she wished that no one had seen her Boggart. No one had the right to know what she feared most… and it was all Lupin's fault that they all knew.

Hating the man more than ever, Vesperra went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson the next week hoping that Lupin wouldn't pull a Lockhart and try to keep her after class…. He would either try to apologize to her, or ask her about the nature of her relationship with Severus… likely both. Unlike the way she had been with Lockhart, she actually had done the assigned essay on Boggarts, though resentfully. She wondered if Lupin would be biased in grading her paper, since he knew she was close to Severus, a man he had hated….

When he entered the room, with his robes looking shabbier than ever, his smile didn't fade as he glanced in her direction. That left Vesperra no less suspicious of him… but she couldn't deny that the lesson was rather interesting.

In the next few Defense Against the Dark Lessons, Lupin taught them all about Red Caps and Kappas, respectively. Vesperra hated to admit it, but they were the best Defense lessons she'd had yet. In her first year, the position had been held by Quirrell, who stuttered too much for her to always understand what he was saying, and his lessons were rubbish, anyway. The next year, DADA lessons had consisted mainly of Lockhart teaching them more about himself and the brands of hair products he used than he did about actual defense. Actually, Vesperra didn't think Lockhart had taught them a single thing.

But now, the Defense class wasn't being wasted. Whether or not Lupin had any ulterior motives involving malevolence towards Severus or anyone else, he was actually a competent teacher. Vesperra was actually learning useful things—much of the information Lupin told them about Red Caps wasn't even in the textbook, and Lupin had brought live specimen of the creatures to class.

It was a strange feeling, because she wanted so badly to hate the class…. She dreaded having to be near that man, but she definitely was not going to skive off class, nor was she going to refuse to do any of the work. The feeling wasn't unlike the way she felt in the rare times she agreed with anything Malfoy said. Most would find it very difficult to pay attention to a teacher they hated, but Vesperra forced herself to recognize the fact that the information being taught in the lesson was separate from Lupin himself.

The other Slytherins didn't seem to like him very much in the second lesson either, even after he had caused Vesperra a lot of humiliation. But they couldn't have loathed him as Vesperra did. They did, however, seem quite interested in the creatures they were learning about, and clearly would have guiltily agreed with Vesperra that these were easily the best Defense lessons they'd had yet. At least half of them even started to like Lupin.

Malfoy, however, donned a look of contempt every time Lupin walked by, and didn't bother to keep his voice down too much when he insulted the man's robes in the corridors while Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. As far as Vesperra knew, there was nothing in particular that Lupin had done to warrant this animosity from Malfoy—Malfoy was just the type to look down upon and insult everyone poorer than him.

It was no secret that Lupin was quickly becoming one of the most liked professors at Hogwarts. A good number of Slytherins even liked him, despite the fact that he had the job Severus, who was the favorite teacher of all the Slytherins, had wanted for years. Frankly, it annoyed Vesperra. _They wouldn't like him so much if they knew what he was,_ she found herself thinking rather often. _Or that he had been good friends with the mass murderer that the Ministry has yet to catch._

Apart from Defense Against the Dark Arts, most of Vesperra's other classes remained the same, although Potions class was more entertaining, since Severus was in a fouler mood than usual and took it out on Longbottom, whose fear of Severus hadn't seemed to decrease in the least bit. Now that Vesperra thought about it, being mercilessly bullied by Severus wouldn't be any less frightening if he was wearing a dress.

He was much calmer during the time on the weekends that he spent with her, though. He was always calmer with her. Vesperra wasn't sure whether this was because he didn't want to be bitter when he was with her and possibly lose his temper, because his mood was instantaneously lifted by her presence, or because it was impossible for him to look at her with such frustration and coldness. Whichever it was, she was glad to know she had such an effect on him.

Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors had changed since the first lesson as well, but for the worse. After the incident (a very good one, in Vesperra's opinion) with the hippogriff attacking Malfoy, Hagrid must have lost what was left of his confidence, for he was now having them look after flobberworms.

Classified as boring even by the Ministry, flobberworms were thick, ten-inch long brown worms that did absolutely nothing but secrete mucus. Vesperra scowled down at the one that Hagrid had given her at the beginning of the next lesson, trying to understand why these creatures even existed. They seemed to have no point in their lives but to eat lettuce and be disgusting. Many others shared this view, especially the Slytherins, who were angry that Hagrid hadn't been fired yet.

"Eugh, I'm not _touching_ that thing!" squealed Pansy as Hagrid dropped a flobberworm on the table in front of her. Hagrid had either not heard her over the sound of his depression or chosen to ignore her, for he kept walking.

It didn't take long for Hagrid to explain the proper care of a flobberworm, and Vesperra wondered why there were rules for taking care of the things at all. Why would anyone _want_ to take care of them? All it was, really, was poking lettuce down their slimy throats. The only problem was distinguishing one end from the other and finding out which one the head was.

Some people, including Vesperra, quickly realized that flobberworms were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves and without the aide of humans (and if they weren't, that would have made them even more pathetic), and decided to just leave them as they were to eat at whatever pace they liked. Others refused to touch them altogether, who were all girls. It made for a very boring and uneventful lesson, which left Vesperra with nothing to do but stand around. She knew Malfoy must have been getting bored as well, which was far from being a good thing.

He must have been glad that Hagrid hadn't brought anything else potentially dangerous enough to injure his other arm, but he didn't show it. A few people down from Vesperra, Malfoy was frowning. Hardly seconds after she turned away from him, she saw something growing bigger and closer out of her peripheral vision, and ducked.

She was a moment too late; the top of her head was hit by something thick and slimy, which then fell onto the table after impact. Those around her broke into sniggers, and Vesperra, angry, whipped her head around. Malfoy had thrown a flobberworm at her while Hagrid was turned the other way. His eyes were alight with glee as he suppressed laughter.

"Don't worry, Grease-perra," he hissed down the table, "I don't think the mucus in your hair will make any difference…. Hell, it might even help—the flobberworms are definitely prettier than you."

Hagrid had then turned back around to make sure no ones' flobberworm had died yet, so Vesperra couldn't retaliate by throwing a flobberworm back at Malfoy. A shame, too, since she could have gotten him full in the face.

It was disappointing that the one class besides Potions Vesperra had actually looked forward to over the summer was now her least favorite subject—well, second least. A class would have to be completely dreadful to take that title away from History of Magic. She couldn't even count Defense Against the Dark Arts as any of her least favorites—if she didn't hate Lupin so much, that would have been her favorite class after Potions.

Now, Vesperra was mostly looking forward to Ancient Runes lessons—almost more than Potions. Potions was her best subject and taught by Severus, but she talked to Severus every night and spent several hours with him every weekend. In Ancient Runes, she was free of Malfoy. The only annoyance was Hermione Granger, whose hand was in the air ninety-eight percent of the lesson.

They hadn't gotten to real translating yet—it was just individual words right now, and simple ones at that… numbers, common words, animals…. And they were learning that enunciation was just as important in speaking words in the runic language as it was in Charms. This counted even more for the ancient spells that were in the runic language.

Vesperra was busier than she had been last year, even though it was only the beginning of the year. She only had one extra class that she actually had to put forth effort in, but as it was their third year at Hogwarts, the teachers thought them capable of a bigger workload. It was going to be like this, with the workload gradually becoming more and more difficult, until they finished their O.W.L. exams in fifth year. But, as she always had, Vesperra ploughed through her homework quickly enough to make time for Severus because of her lack of friends or any life outside schoolwork and Severus.

As September drew to a close, the weather grew colder and the wind more bitter, as though preparing for the harsh weather of October. It wasn't raining very often, though, so the walks to the greenhouse twice a week for Herbology weren't yet muddy. Still, most people stayed inside the castle, and Vesperra kept to either her dorm or the library—or Severus's office, when she had the chance.

She was taunted less and less about her Boggart, as Malfoy now spent much of his time talking about how angry his father was, and how it would be no time before Hagrid was sacked. Vesperra didn't doubt that Lucius Malfoy would make a case to the Ministry, where he still had plenty of influence despite no longer being a school governor. Once again, she remained neutral, and didn't care whether or not Hagrid was fired or if anything happened to the hippogriff that had attacked Malfoy.

Although, she found herself hoping that Hagrid would switch back to dangerous creatures, preferably one that actually _would_ kill Malfoy this time.

* * *

For Severus, the rest of September was rather uneventful. Vesperra was, naturally, his only source of real happiness, and the time he spent with her provided a steady flow of it. Otherwise, he fed his vindictive side by being harsh to all non-Slytherin students, particularly Longbottom.

He kept an eye and ear out for news of anymore sightings of Sirius Black, but there was nothing but the bi-weekly announcements from Cornelius Fudge saying that Black was still continuing to avoid capture. Never having been a very patient man, Severus was frustrated with the lack of news. He wanted to know how Black was doing it, and he didn't want to wait around for information. It seemed that, once again, there was nothing he could do. And this time it really was just him—Vesperra had no part in this. She may have hated Black enough to kill him, but she didn't know the half of Severus's hatred or motives for wanting to catch Black himself. Besides, all the curses she knew would do no good against someone as mad or powerful as that man.

As for the werewolf, Lupin appeared to have been true to his word and hadn't told anyone about Vesperra's Boggart. Severus was a bit surprised, actually, to see that none of the other teachers had heard about it from any of the students, since the staff often caught wind of the rumors that flew around the school. Perhaps a few of them did know, but were very good about not acting any differently around him or mentioning it to or around him. He considered taking a look into each of their minds to see who knew and who didn't, but didn't want to go through the trouble of using Legilimency on all of them—and he normally saved robbing the privacy of one's own mind for his worst enemies. Even if some of them knew, he supposed it didn't matter, because they would just assume the same as all the Slytherins had.

But Severus was keeping an eye on Lupin, however much he hated to look in that man's direction. He didn't trust him, especially not now that Lupin knew one of the things he'd have preferred to keep from everyone—even though he gave no sign of wanting to or being stupid enough to reveal Severus's secret to anyone….You could never know. You could never trust a werewolf, and even less so one that had had a part in your near-death.

In the last week of September, Severus was bitter and angrier than normal, having dreaded the time to come where he would have to brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin. It wasn't so much the difficulty of the potion that he hated as it was the prospect of actually _helping_ Lupin… But it would keep him from harming the students, which was what Severus wanted.

The Wolfsbane Potion, as complicated as it was, only took three days to brew. Come to think of it, it would have been easier if it took a month or more, because then there'd be time to wait while it simmered. But instead, it would keep him busy for several hours at a time, and he would have to stay alert to make sure everything was exact. He had to plan ahead to figure out how the timing was going to work, because it had to be drunk fresh, and during the five days preceding the full moon. The three days before those five days were during the week, and Severus couldn't have the potion interfering with his teaching schedule. When he finally worked all of it out, he figured that he'd have to stay up several hours later than he normally did.

Staying awake was no problem, since he could easily take a potion to keep him from getting tired, but he didn't like that it would keep him too busy to talk to Vesperra. Severus had never minded having a lot of work to keep him busy before, but that was because it kept his mind off other things, and gave him something to do. Potions, especially, were even more satisfying to finish when it took a lot of work. And he still appreciated the complexities of brewing and had patience when it came to particularly difficult potions, but ever since he became friends with Vesperra, he often did have something to do—talk to her. It had been very long since he had gone more than a day or two without at least talking to her. Actually, he wasn't sure if there ever had been three days in succession where he didn't even speak to her.

On the last Sunday of September, Severus insisted on Vesperra spending the entire day with him, as the next day would be when he had to start the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin—so he might as well spend as much time with her as possible before then.

* * *

Vesperra woke up to the small book in her arms thudding against her side, as though frantically trying to escape her grip. Still half-asleep, she didn't realize what was going on until a couple seconds later. Straightening up and simultaneously rubbing her eyes, she held her journal down with one hand and undid the latch that bore a glowing _S_ with the other. As tired as she still was, she knew what Severus writing a message to her this early meant, and watched the journal flip itself to the right page eagerly.

* * *

_Are you awake?_

_**No, I learned to write in my sleep.**_

_Very funny. I'm sorry if I woke you up, but I'd like you to visit._

Vesperra was already pulling on clean robes before that message even appeared, and quickly crammed her head through the hole of her shirt before writing back.

_**It's fine. I'll be there in a few minutes.**_

* * *

True to her words, she arrived at his office door minutes later, and was no longer tired. Her rush to get there had fully woken her up. When Severus opened the door, he noticed that her hair was less lank than it normally was, and instead several flyaway strands gave her a slightly windswept look.

"Did you run here?" said Severus with an amused tone as he let her in.

Vesperra leaned against the wall, looking at Severus with an expression of mock mischief. "What makes you think that?'

He smirked, and quickly cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door. The habit of doing that should have worn off during the summer, but it hadn't. And Severus would have done it anyway, just to be safe. Malfoy may have seemed to stop thinking that he and Vesperra had any sort of relationship, but there was no telling what that kid's motives were. And now that he, along with most of the rest of Slytherin House, knew what Vesperra's Boggart was, it wasn't unlikely that he was getting suspicious again.

"You've spoiled me, you know," said Severus, making to sit down on his couch and pulling Vesperra with him.

"With what?" she asked.

"With yourself," he said simply. "And enough that I know I will hate the next three days, because I won't be able to talk to you then."

She frowned. "Why not?"

Sighing, Severus said, "The next full moon is in exactly eight days. I have to spend three days on the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin. It's too time-consuming to allow me a chance to speak to you."

"Oh." Vesperra was already disappointed, as talking to Severus through the journals after dinner was what she looked forward to everyday. Sure, it would only be three days, and they would definitely have a lot to talk about the Thursday after the potion was finished, but she had been rather spoiled with Severus as well. "Well, at least we have today…. Wait—are you sure you don't need any assistance? Then we could—"

"I thought about that," said Severus, "and I would like help, but it's an extremely advanced potion. I can't risk a single thing going wrong… and that's not out of worry for Lupin, it's because we can't have him transforming while inside the castle and eating students. Trust me, you're the only person I would accept help from, and I don't doubt that you're skilled enough, but I can't have you help—not even with ingredients. You'd be up in the late hours of the night, anyway."

Truthfully, he didn't want to put the stress of such a difficult potion on her, despite the fact that she had proven in the past that she could handle much worse stress. And he'd prefer to do it alone. He expected her to argue, but she merely nodded.

"What do you want to do today, then?" sighed Vesperra.

"Anything you want."

Vesperra might have suggested they go to the clearing by the lake if it had been nicer outside, but it wasn't. Instead, the two of them spent the day talking, occasionally playing a round or two of Wizard's chess among other things. After lunch, Severus thought he'd let Vesperra read over some of the essays he'd already graded for a laugh, just so she could see how stupid some of the other students were.

"Merlin, I don't know how you deal with it, Severus…." said Vesperra after reading through a second year's essay. "I could never be a teacher."

Severus used to think that about himself as well. If it weren't for the deal he made with Dumbledore, he wouldn't have ever become a teacher in the first place. Once again, he was suddenly struggling with the decision of whether or not to tell Vesperra the entire story that led up to him becoming the Potions Master, which would include everything about Lily and his Death Eater days. And once again, he quickly decided that now was not a good time, despite the fact that he had an entire day with her. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, not when the situation would be, "Alright, so there's my painful past that I've never told anyone else but Dumbledore in my entire life. You can spend the next three days that you don't get to talk to me to brood on that alone."

"It is difficult to tolerate," he replied a few seconds later, taking the essay back from her and seeing which one it was. "But it's the same way you deal with Malfoy and the others… self-control. Although, I don't think I've ever cursed or thrown a knife at any of my students—apart from my fantasies in between classes."

Vesperra froze for the briefest of moments, thinking for that moment that Severus somehow knew about the curse she had used on Malfoy in her first year as revenge, but then realized he was referring to the one she was choking him with on Valentine's Day in her second year.

"You said that I had better self-control than you," said Vesperra. "Back in my first year. I'm surprised you've never lost it with one of your students."

He couldn't help but smile slightly at the fact that she remembered that. But how could she have forgotten it, when that day had been the beginning of their friendship? "I was referring to when I was a child, though…. Hardly a day went by that I didn't try to curse Potter and Black for something they said or did to me. You're better than I was. You never go looking for fights, and you don't curse them until you absolutely can't handle it anymore…. I admire your strength."

Her heart skipped a beat and the edged of her lips twitched upward into a small smile. Vesperra almost couldn't believe he admired her in any way. He was much more of a person to admire.

"And now," Severus continued, noticing her smile, "it's completely different. I'm a teacher, so I simply have to deal with being surrounded by dunderheads all day. I can insult them without retaliation, as well as give them detentions, so I suppose that makes it much easier."

Vesperra snorted. "'Insult' is an understatement. You torture them. Especially Longbottom."

"I know…. But 'torture' makes me sound just as cruel as Malfoy is to you."

"No, it doesn't, Severus," said Vesperra, frowning. "You're justified. They're not. Even if you weren't… you have a perfectly good reason to be heartless. We both do."

"You're not heartless," said Severus. Vesperra raised her eyebrows. "…all the time."

"Well, I suppose you're not, either. But it's pretty fun to watch when you are."

"I'll do my best to be even more heartless in the future, then." Both of them smirked. "Just not towards you."

They had almost forgotten about the upcoming three days during the course of Sunday. Vesperra only returned to her dorm when it was past nine o'clock. She ignored the usual questioning from her fellow Slytherins as to where she'd been as she passed through the Common Room, and tried to focus on the day that she'd just had rather than the three days she would be unable to talk to Severus as she pulled on her nightclothes and went to sleep. Severus, feeling bitter that Vesperra had to leave, resigned to the fact that Sunday was over and decided to get a good night's sleep before the few days, when he knew he wouldn't get as much.

* * *

Directly after dinner on Monday, Severus got to work on the Wolfsbane Potion, almost angry with himself for not letting Vesperra help. But it had been for the best. The ingredients took a long time to prepare, as it had to be very precise. Around two o'clock in the morning, he was able to stop and let each of the ingredients simmer in separate cauldrons for several hours while he slept. He resumed work at certain intervals throughout the next couple days, taking time during lunch rather than going to the Great Hall, as well as during the hours he didn't have classes.

Severus definitely wasn't enjoying the schedule with which he had to work on the Wolfsbane Potion, but it was the most convenient one he had been able to come up with. He had to take a few doses of the Draught of Insomnia throughout those three days, and by the time the entire thing was finished on Wednesday night, he had gotten a total of seven or eight hours of sleep. The finished product was the color of dishwater and emitted a faint bluish smoke. Keen to make sure Lupin didn't take the potion too late, he promptly filled a goblet and left his office in the direction of Lupin's.

He rapped his knuckles on the Defense Against the Dark Arts office door, suddenly in a slightly worse mood.

"Come in," said Lupin. Severus pushed open the door with one hand, carrying the smoking goblet in the other. Lupin was sitting at his desk, and looked up at him, smiling. Briefly glancing around the room, he noticed several stark differences between the last two residents' offices.

It was more interesting than Quirrell's choice of decoration had been, and much less maddening than the plethora of self-portraits Lockhart had put up around the walls. Stacks of books, mostly about dangerous creatures, sat on tables around the edges of the room, and here and there were miniature models of some creatures and diagrams. Severus had to admit, he preferred it to way the last two Defense teachers had the office. But it was still very different than he would have had it if he had the job.

"Your Wolfsbane Potion," said Severus in a tone of forced politeness; though he was unable to keep the loathing out of his eyes. Lupin either wasn't perceptive enough to catch it, or didn't care, because he didn't seem put off at all.

"Ah—thank you very much, Severus," said Lupin, standing up from his desk at once and striding over to Severus to take the goblet from him. Up close, he could see that the man looked paler than he had been only days ago, and his eyes a bit sunken—but they were lit up in gratitude all the same. "This will help with the other symptoms as well, correct?"

"Yes," Severus replied. He knew that Lupin meant the gradually increasing feeling of sickness that werewolves like him felt in the week leading up to each full moon. "It's more effective the more often you take it, but only once a day. Any more often and you might as well have not taken any."

"I'll remember that, Severus." Lupin looked curiously down into the goblet, then took a sip, frowning slightly.

"Tastes awful, doesn't it?" asked Severus, his eyes flashing. As immature as it may have been, he was glad that, at least, the potion would cause some discomfort to Lupin that wasn't at anyone else's expense.

"Yes, it does. Well, good evening, Severus, and thank you again."

"Make sure to drink that all within a few minutes. There's more, since you'll likely need some. And I'm not going to deliver it to you each time, so I trust you're not too weak to make the trip down to the dungeons."

"Of course, Severus."

Lupin took a gulp of the potion and turned to resume whatever he was working on at his desk. At the same time, Severus turned his back on him and swept himself out of the office, glad that he could finally get some sleep.

* * *

**I was glad I finally got to write the Shrinking Solution scene from Severus's perspective... That scene always has me cracking up when I read it. And after writing this chapter, I realized that this is basically the 'Everything that Happens in September' chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, and I'll try to update again within the week!**

**Don't forget to review! Please... it would make my day!**


	35. Book 3: Chapter 7

**Once again, I hate that I had to take a week to post this, but, you know... school. But anyway, it's my birthday today! And my gift to myself was finishing this chapter. On another note, this story's only gotten 2 new reviews since the last chapter... Come on guys, you can do better than that! Oh, and I have a DeviantART account now, the link to which is in my profile. I've posted a few pictures I've drawn for this fic on it.**

* * *

During each of the three days that Severus had been busy working on the Wolfsbane Potion, Vesperra was in a particularly bad mood, knowing that she wouldn't be able to talk to Severus at the end of the day. Being the pessimist that she was, she could hardly even enjoy her Ancient Runes lesson on Tuesday. And though she was quite used to it, the taunts she regularly endured seemed even worse. She knew that, with Severus too busy to talk to her later, she couldn't possibly be happy, and therefore she wasn't.

But she wasn't obvious about being in a worse mood than usual. Vesperra knew that if the other Slytherins noticed, which they likely would (Malfoy, at least), they would start interrogating her about what had put a damper on her already sour mood, as though they had a right to know everything that went on with her. They were too nosy for their own good, which Vesperra found extremely frustrating. Why couldn't they just worry about themselves?

Having been down this road many times before, Vesperra knew that they would begin to guess as to why she was in a bad mood, and they would undoubtedly surmise that it must have had something to do with Severus, and then that would be another few days of taunts all about him, with them occasionally dipping back into the topic of her Boggart. It was unsettling how accurate their guesses sometimes were, and even more so that they weren't even being serious when they guessed.

Apart from her determination to make sure her and Severus's relationship remained a secret (though they had already failed, since, besides Dumbledore, Lupin, and her parents were now aware of it), Vesperra would have liked to see the look on Malfoy's face if he discovered that his half-joking taunts were mostly right. Then again, it might not have been as shocked as the others' would be, since she wasn't entirely sure how serious Malfoy was about them. He had, after all, often spied on her in the past, so he might not have given up on his supposed theories.

It was lucky Vesperra was smart enough to foresee this sort of thing, because she simply hid her anger over lack of Severus behind an only mildly angry expression, which was her usual one. And even that was hidden behind her hair, which strategically covered her face when her head was tilted down at her desk or plate or whatever was in front of her.

Three days shouldn't have been much of a pain, but it was to her, and she figured it must have been for Severus as well. At least she wasn't completely deprived of him for that time, because she could still see him for seconds at a time during meals. Without making it obvious to anyone else that she was looking in Severus's direction, she would glance at the Staff Table at an angle, unable to view it too long without her eyes hurting from having been turned to one side as far as they could go. During the time that she managed to get a good look at him, she noticed that he looked very irritable, as though he hadn't slept much lately. It made her feel slightly bad for getting enough sleep while he wasn't.

For those three days, Vesperra tried to do her homework half as fast as usual so that she'd have something to keep her busy for a while after dinner, but her natural instinct and nature to finish as quickly as possible without breaking her train of thought kept her from doing so. So she had nothing to do but sit in her dorm and read her textbooks (Merlin, this was getting sad) until she was tired enough to fall asleep.

When it was finally Thursday, she was relieved that she could talk to Severus again. She did realize that he could have talked to her the night before, since he had finished the Wolfsbane Potion before it was too late into the night, but she didn't mind, as she was glad that he was able to finally get to sleep and make up for the lost hours. Happier than she should have been, she eagerly wrote him a message directly after dinner.

* * *

_**How was your three days?**_

It was a few minutes before he replied.

_I wasn't even in my office when you sent that. I'm lucky I was just leaving the staffroom and no other teachers wanted to talk to me, or that would have been terribly awkward, with me trying to hold a struggling journal still for several minutes._

_**I'm sorry. I missed you.**_

_It's fine. You sound like we've spent weeks apart, though._

_**It feels like it… I don't like not being able to talk to you. And you didn't answer my first question.**_

_Well, you know. I've been working my arse off, so it wasn't a picnic. I didn't do much else but teach, eat, and sleep, sleep being the thing I did the least. But I am glad I can talk to you again. How was the three days for you?_

_**Not quite as difficult as yours. Malfoy was a right prat yesterday in Charms, saying that he couldn't focus on spellwork with the pain of his arm distracting him, but what else is new? **_

_I wouldn't have expected any different. Although, I do wonder when he's going to take the bandages off. _

_**Probably not until Hagrid's fired.**_

_Hagrid won't be fired, Dumbledore likes him. Dumbledore didn't even fire Quirrell when he knew the man was after the Sorcerer's Stone, so I doubt that he would care about Hagrid's love for dangerous creatures. Even if the school governors want Hagrid fired, Dumbledore'll use his influence at the Ministry to make sure he isn't. That's not exactly reassuring to me, though. I've never hated Hagrid, but I would prefer if he was merely the Gamekeeper. It's only a matter of time before he brings in a beast that hurts you._

_**I wouldn't be so sure about that. He's had us taking care of flobberworms for the past month ever since the first lesson. I think it'll be at least until all the flobberworms die that he'll bring in anything else. If he does bring in something dangerous, I won't be stupid like Malfoy and antagonize it.**_

_I wasn't insinuating that you would be. But Hagrid might get a hold of something hostile and untamable that would attack without being provoked. He's been known to have an affinity for creatures like that…. The three-headed dog that nearly bit my leg off on Halloween two years ago was his. And he once tried to keep a dragon in his hut. I suppose he'll be getting a manticore or something else of the sort next._

_**Merlin, I hope he doesn't. Dumbledore would do something if he did, though, wouldn't he?**_

_Don't expect me to know whether he would or not…. Dumbledore's never been consistent in the level of sanity with which he makes his decisions. It's impossible to predict what that man does. _

_**You know, we haven't spoken in three days, so perhaps we shouldn't talk about things that stress us out. You've gone through enough stress in the past few days, what with the Wolfsbane Potion and everything. Actually… could you explain that potion to me? I know only the most skilled of Potioneers are capable of it, and it seems like the sort of thing I'd try simply to see whether I could do it or not.**_

Severus was surprised that she'd want to know about the Wolfsbane Potion at first, but he quickly understood and agreed with her reasoning. He smiled slightly after hearing the tone of near reverence her voice was in as she pretty much said she considered him one of 'the most skilled of Potioneers.' He wasn't so arrogant as to point out his own skills that set him apart from others, but he liked recognition for his abilities—especially from Vesperra, who clearly admired him.

_You're right. I won't mention Dumbledore again until he actually affects our lives this year. Well, there's only two ways to know whether or not you did the Wolfsbane Potion correctly—one of them would be testing it on an actual werewolf, and I can't think of any way that scenario would be a safe one. The other is a very subtle detail that's difficult to pick up unless you're very experienced in potion-making. You have a natural skill, but there are certain things that must be learned, so I wouldn't expect you to know how. I've completed my education at Hogwarts and have been the Potions Master for twelve years, so I've learned to separate a potion's scent into its parts. Then I can tell if a single one of those smells is wrong._

Severus went on to explain what exactly made the Wolfsbane Potion so difficult, and Vesperra continued to listen and read, fascinated despite the potion's connection with Lupin, who she hated. For the rest of the night, it felt like the past three days hadn't even happened, because everything was back to normal now. She had nearly fallen asleep to Severus's voice at least three times when she finally wrote;

_**I'm about to pass out, Severus. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Night.**_

_I'd say 'sweet dreams,' but I know you don't dream. Goodnight._

Her eyelids feeling very heavy, Vesperra smiled at his last message and hardly had time to close the journal before falling directly to sleep.

* * *

A few days later, Vesperra was once again spending the day with Severus, but it wasn't quite all day, as it had been a week before. It was another month until Severus would have to brew the Wolfsbane Potion again, so they didn't feel the need to cram as much quality time as possible in between dawn and midnight. He had asked Vesperra to come down to his office after breakfast, which she did.

"Is that the Wolfsbane Potion?" asked Vesperra as she entered his office, noting the large cauldron on the table in the center of the room, which was smoking even though there was no fire lit underneath. There was a faint, acidic smell in the dungeon room; it didn't bother her that much, but she knew it must have been from the potion on the table.

Severus didn't answer until the ball of light from his wand was absorbed by the door, meaning the Imperturbable Charm was in effect.

"Yes," he said, glancing at the smoking cauldron. "Lupin's taken a goblet of it each of the past three days—it's annoying, having him come down here the past four days, and keeping the cauldron in here makes it stink a bit, but the more he takes, the safer he is, so I'm not complaining."

"Doesn't that mean that his werewolf symptoms are kicking in early and making him too sick?" said Vesperra, sitting on the couch and turning long-ways so that her feet rested in Severus's usual spot. She pulled her feet back almost immediately, as Severus was about to sit down and gave her a look of mock-annoyance. When he settled himself into the couch, she extended her legs again onto Severus's lap.

"It does, but then again, Lupin's symptoms may not be in the extreme just yet. That's another important thing about the Wolfsbane Potion—the werewolf in question has to know what they're doing. As long as he only takes a goblet a day, the potion will still work just as effectively in keeping him safe during the full moon, but if he's taking too much more than he needs, his cognitive abilities may be impaired for a day or two afterwards." Severus smirked, knowing that if Lupin ended up seemingly inebriated after the full moon, it would be his own fault.

Vesperra noticed his lips curl into a small smirk as he finished his explanation, and hers did the same. She, like Severus, would wish Lupin nothing but ill if it weren't for the fact that he would hurt other people if he was subjected to the full effects of his illness. She did consider Lycanthropy a curse, as it had been one of the Twenty-Six Malignant Cards, but that didn't make her hate Lupin any less. Dragons couldn't help but eating people, but she would definitely hate them if one nearly killed Severus. On the other hand, she wouldn't mind Malfoy being bitten, because then he'd suffer.

They refrained from talking about Lupin for much of the day. It was an entirely normal visit with Severus until some time after lunch, when Vesperra was about to reply to something Severus had said but was interrupted by a brief rushing sound, as green flames suddenly shot up in his office fireplace.

"Do you mind if I step in for a moment, Severus, to take a dose of my potion?" Lupin's voice rang out from the fire and into the room as clearly as though he were in there with them.

Vesperra scowled at the sound of it, and Severus turned to her. Knowing what she had to do, she saved him the trouble of trying to tell her to step out of his office for a minute without voicing it (since Lupin would hear), and immediately stood up. She glanced at him with a slightly annoyed look before quickly walking in large strides to his ingredient storeroom and shutting herself in there.

Feeling sorry that she felt obliged to suddenly make herself nonexistent, yet appreciative all the same, Severus stood and said, "Fine. Come in, Lupin."

As Severus crossed the room to the table in the center of the room, a large shape revolved into view in the grate. Lupin emerged from the emerald flames in his fireplace and stumbled out onto the stone floor; he brushed the ash off his robes while regaining his balance.

"I hope I'm not bothering you, Severus," said Lupin warmly, watching Severus conjure a goblet and ladle the exact amount of Wolfsbane Potion needed for a single dose and not a drop more or less.

His upper lip curled slightly as his mind went to Vesperra, who was currently waiting in his ingredients storeroom for this exchange to be over. But he set the ladle down a bit harshly, turned to Lupin, handed the man the goblet, and said coldly, "Not at all."

Lupin took the goblet with a grateful smile and made to take a large gulp of it, frowning only a little at the foul taste. "Thank you again, Severus," he said before taking another gulp, probably to let the taste settle so that he wasn't hit with it all at once. "The full moon's in two days, so I thought it would be safe to take just one more before then—after Monday, I won't bother you again until next month."

Severus regarded the man with a simple "Hm" and a cold, emotionless look, and the only reason he wasn't allowing his face to suffuse with hatred was because he was trying to do what Dumbledore wanted and be at least somewhat polite. His arms were folded over his chest as he waited impatiently for Lupin to finish the gobletful and leave, and he wondered how angry Vesperra was inside his storeroom.

Truthfully, Vesperra wasn't exactly angry, just annoyed. And it was only at Lupin, not Severus. It wasn't Severus's fault that Lupin chose _that_ time to get his Wolfsbane Potion. A similar situation had happened in this office once before, almost exactly a year ago, when Malfoy and Flint had arrived at Severus's door to get permission to use the Quidditch field.

It was strange, now, remembering that, because Lupin was actually aware of the fact that she and Severus were friends, whereas Malfoy had had no idea. He had, however, become suspicious after that, having supposedly realized Severus hadn't been alone in his office. But even though Lupin already knew, he didn't have to know that Vesperra and Severus were close enough to spend time alone together, whether or not he already assumed it. Carefully pressing her ear to the inside of the storeroom door, she listened to what was happening.

"I did come down to the dungeons on foot and try to knock," said Lupin, annoying Severus even further simply in that he continued to talk, "but there seemed to be an Imperturbable Charm on your door. It was strong enough that I couldn't knock—my hand was forced away if it got within a couple inches of the door." He then tilted his head back and drained the goblet, setting it back down on the table. "So I returned to my office and used Floo powder instead."

Lupin had said that casually, as though it was a matter for simple conversation, but Severus knew by his very small smile that he wanted to know why Severus had placed an Imperturbable Charm on his door, and a particularly strong one no less. But the man also must have been resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to find out, and was even less likely to get an answer if he asked directly.

"You know that I prefer my privacy, Lupin, more sometimes than others," said Severus with a bit of a sneer.

"Right. Well, I'll be leaving you alone. Good day to you, Severus." Lupin's curious look turned into a polite smile as he turned back towards the fireplace.

"Good day," he spat back, watching Lupin take a pinch of his Floo powder and throw it into the previously normal-looking fire, then step into it and quickly revolve into nothingness, appearing to be sucked down a giant drain.

Frowning despite being glad that Lupin was gone, Severus said somewhat loudly, "You can come out now."

Vesperra stood up straight to turn the handle and stepped out as she pushed the door open, remembering the last time she had had to hide in there for a couple minutes; Severus had opened the door, and caught her when she nearly fell out. Almost disappointed that he hadn't given her the chance to let him catch her again, she sat down on his couch and huffed.

"I'm sorry," said Severus, noticing her brow furrow as he sat back down with her and unconsciously reached for her hand. "I hate to make you hide in there, even though—"

"No, it's not that," Vesperra said in a sort of pensive way without looking at him, brow still furrowed. She felt Severus's long fingers slide in between hers, and squeezed his hand more out of habit than any desire to have him hold her hand at the moment. "You didn't even make me, anyway—I know we can't let anyone, least of all _Lupin_, know that I was in here…. But, I just realized… that both me and Lupin have a potion that we have to take every month. And with both of us, we only recently started taking it—well, relatively recently, at least…."

Vesperra had only started thinking about that while she was inside the storeroom, listening to what was going on outside of it. She wasn't sure why it had just come to her then, since she normally would have picked up on that sort of thing earlier, but the thought had suddenly squirmed its way into her head when Lupin mentioned the full moon.

She scowled, and, automatically knowing what was bothering her, Severus tightened his hold on her hand.

"_Don't,_" he said sternly, unintentionally jerking her arm a little too hard so that he pulled her abruptly towards him. Having been startled by it, Vesperra turned her head to him and raised her eyebrows, still frowning slightly. Severus realized what he did at once and relaxed his grip, but it was still firm, just as firm as the way he held her gaze with his. "Don't compare yourself to him. You're absolutely _nothing_ like him."

"But—"

"I don't give a damn if you share a couple things in common with him, so you shouldn't either. You could become a werewolf yourself and I still wouldn't care—no, I would, because then I'd kill the werewolf that bit you, and I'd devote my life to discovering a cure for Lycanthropy…. But if I have anything to say about it, that will _not_ happen, so we won't have to worry about that."

A small vein had temporarily bulged in Severus's temple when the thought had crossed his mind of Vesperra ever being bitten by a werewolf. He couldn't stand the thought…. It wasn't so much that she would be like Lupin, who he loathed, as it was that she would become even more dangerous than ever, especially to herself. He would hate for her to be forced to undergo a painful transformation. And even as he thought about this, his view on werewolves in general didn't change. Severus still hated them and believed that they were untamable beasts—which was why he wanted nothing less than for Vesperra to become one. Vesperra would always be Vesperra—that would never change, and he wouldn't love her any less, but he wouldn't assume that she could be kept docile even if he tried to help her suppress her animal urges. Unless he _did_ find a cure… But he didn't want to even think about that possibility anymore, so he leaned back into the couch and squeezed her hand again.

Vesperra wanted to think that she was anything like Lupin just as little as Severus did, but it had really been everything he said about her ever being bitten by a werewolf that had her believing him more. She felt a sudden gush of affection for him at his aggressive protectiveness over her, and even more so that he would pretty much devote his life to her—because she knew he was serious. If Severus said he would do something, he would do it.

Ignoring the sudden hitch in her breathing (which happened often when she was around Severus), Vesperra unfurrowed her brow and nearly smiled. He looked relieved. And then, the topic of werewolves brought a new thought into her mind, and she frowned curiously.

"Severus… where did Lupin go before he was able to take the Wolfsbane Potion?" asked Vesperra, inching closer to Severus—once again out of habit. "As a student, I mean. Dumbledore wouldn't have let him stay in the castle—?"

"The Shrieking Shack," sighed Severus, automatically remembering the night he had crawled down the passageway in the Whomping Willow for what felt like hours, all the while thinking that he would finally have the dirt on Lupin when he saw what was wrong with him, and catching a glimpse of a full-fledged werewolf before Potter pulled him back. The memory seemed so much darker and more ominous than it had actually been when he looked back on it—likely because had hadn't known he'd be close to death when he had first left the castle that night. It filled him with hot anger, just to remember it…. However he continued—

"I told you how Black and Lupin nearly killed me—well, the passageway from the base of the Whomping Willow leads to the Shrieking Shack, which was where I saw Lupin. I'm one of the few who know he went there every month at the full moon, because Dumbledore explained it to me after he discovered that I knew, and forbade me to tell anybody."

His breathing shallow from the heat building up inside him, Severus's brow knitted together, and he looked straight ahead rather than at Vesperra, because he didn't want to look in her direction while there was such hatred in his eyes. He ignored the urge to lift the back of Vesperra's cold hand to his cheek to soothe the boiling headache he suddenly had, but wasn't sure why.

Though not quite as angry as Severus was, as she wasn't the one that had actually experienced it, Vesperra felt a stab of hatred for Potter (both of them), Lupin, and Black upon hearing his explanation. She didn't blame him for looking the way he did, and starting rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.

"I'm sorry I asked, Severus," said Vesperra truthfully and in a way that was strangely calming to him. He looked down to his left and at his hand to see her thumb working in circles on it, which he didn't fully realize that he was feeling until he saw it. Moving his eyes back to hers, he raised his eyebrows very slightly, most of the traces of his previous hardened scowl gone.

"Don't be sorry," he said calmly.

"I made you upset."

"You did nothing. I'm fine."

"Would you mind if I asked one more question, then?

"Of course not. Ask whatever you like."

That, of course, wasn't an entirely serious allowance he was making—but Vesperra knew that. She wasn't going to ask him anything terribly personal that she would never have asked him in the first place. But Severus knew it was going to be related to what they had just been talking about, so he braced himself for more irrational anger.

"The Shrieking Shack—that's that supposedly haunted building in Hogsmeade, isn't it?" she asked. Surprised and at the same time relieved that it hadn't been a question regarding something more serious, Severus let his walls come back down.

"Yes, it is," he said, only slightly curious as to why she was asking about it, as he already had a good guess.

Vesperra didn't know much about Hogsmeade, having grown up in a home where simply talking about the magical world would have her or her mum yelled at, but she had heard things about the Shrieking Shack in passing, since students she walked past in the hallways were often talking about Hogsmeade, and would mention the Shrieking Shack. Several times she had heard it referred to as 'the most severely haunted place in all of Britain. And she wouldn't have remembered it before now, when Severus told her about it, since all the past mentions of the building had been only vague in her mind without something to bring it to the surface. She didn't, after all, focus very much on anything the groups of students in the corridors were saying excitedly to their friends.

"Well, it's not really haunted, then, is it? If the villagers in Hogsmeade had no idea it was Lupin in there…" She realized that, as a werewolf, Lupin must have howled a lot, and Dumbledore wouldn't have sent him to a haunted building.

Unable to suppress a smirk at how perceptive Vesperra was, Severus said, "No, it's not haunted at all. Once again, I—_we_ are two of the few people that know that. Although, I don't see why people would be stupid enough to think it was still haunted, when noises haven't come from the Shack in sixteen years…."

Both of them felt a sense of satisfaction at knowing several things that the vast majority of the rest of the Wizarding population didn't. Vesperra didn't have anything else to say about the Shrieking Shack, so the two remained in comfortable silence until one of them found something to talk about—it wasn't long.

"Do you think Lupin knew I was in here, Severus?" asked Vesperra as the entire conversation she had heard through the door came back to her. There was a hint of worry as well as irritation in her voice.

"He couldn't have _known_," said Severus in almost a growl, having been thinking about this before Vesperra had mentioned the other thing about Lupin. "But I know he suspected it."

Her eyes flashed suddenly at him. "Did you use—?"  
"I didn't have to. I could tell just as easily by the _stupid_ little smile on his face…."

That topic didn't last long, as it had only been fueled by frustration, which disappeared soon enough, thanks to Vesperra.

And throughout the rest of the day, absentmindedly, she continued with the slow, calming circles on the back of Severus's hand. He didn't necessarily need it anymore, but he liked it and would have been admittedly upset if she stopped.

* * *

During the first couple weeks of October, talk of Quidditch steadily grew more and more common among all Houses, and especially among those who sat near those on the House teams during meals. The Quidditch season was approaching and, though no one seemed quite as eager to start setting up practices as the captain of the Gryffindor team, people were getting quite impatient for the first game of the season, which was over a month away.

The Slytherin team tryouts had taken place in the second week of September as always, and anyone who regularly sat near Malfoy, the Slytherin Seeker, knew that Christoph Warrington had replaced Adrian Pucey as a Chaser, and the two new Beaters were even thicker than Crabbe and Goyle (both physically and mentally), if that was even possible.

Like the others, the Slytherin table was full of the talk about Quidditch, though it was in an entirely different manner. Rather than ditching his bandages so he could practice, Malfoy kept up the fake injury so that the Slytherins team would have an excuse not to play the first game of the season. Marcus Flint didn't go into too much detail about what strategy he had planned out, but he assumed that no Slytherins that heard would rat on them, so he and the others didn't bother to keep it entirely a secret. It was only the other Houses they needed to make sure didn't overhear.

According to the hisses and whispers of Malfoy, Flint, Bletchley, Warrington, Montague, Derrick, and Boyle, who were all sitting in a group near the third years, they would begin to practice at times that they would make sure would remain unknown to the other teams, and not tell Madam Hooch that they couldn't play until a week before the match was scheduled. It was a rather ingenious plan, actually, Vesperra thought, because then the Gryffindor team would think all the time that they're practicing that they would be up against Slytherin, and waste time forming strategies based on that. Vesperra couldn't believe that any of those trolls had been smart enough to come up with that…. She assumed it must have been Malfoy that had suggested it in the first place.

Even though she hated Malfoy and couldn't care less about Quidditch (alright, she could care slightly less), Vesperra found herself hoping that the Gryffindors would get flattened in next month's match. And, as the rest of them had assumed, she had no intention to tell anyone of their rather unorthodox plan despite all the trouble she knew Malfoy would be in. That trouble wasn't worth making Slytherin ultimately lose the House Cup for the third time in a row since its seven-year streak, and even less, the torture she would have gone through for the rest of the year from the rest of her house. But she still told Severus, who reacted like she expected, and didn't mind.

"I'm sure we'll win the House Cup this year, then," he had said with a small smirk. "It only bothers me that our team is so bad that they have to resort to _these_ measures…. That's one thing I've always hated—the Slytherin team always goes for bulk rather than skill."

"I know what you mean. Malfoy's by far the smallest on the team, and the rest are twice as big as him," huffed Vesperra, frowning as she mentioned Malfoy. She had wanted to hate Quidditch ever since Malfoy had gotten on the team last year, but she still had some House pride, and therefore she couldn't help but want the Slytherin team to win.

"That may change next year, though," said Severus. "I doubt the new Beaters will last long, and Flint graduates this year…. They'll need a new Chaser. And you're a decent flyer, so—"

Vesperra immediately shot him an annoyed look. "I'm not going to try out for the Quidditch team, not when I'd have to be close to _Malfoy_ even more often," she snapped. "Besides, I haven't even flown since my first year. I doubt I would have coordination in any sport."

"Relax, I wasn't serious," said Severus, holding back a smirk he felt coming on at how little he had to say to make her angry. "Trust me, I would never let you play Quidditch—you'd be at practices too often to spend time with me. And I don't doubt Malfoy would think that an opportune time to antagonize you, or try to make you fall off your broom."

Grimacing slightly in agreement of his would-be predictions, Vesperra said, "You just like to gauge reactions out of me, don't you?"

"Sometimes," said Severus, still trying not to smirk.

* * *

Vesperra didn't normally ever even bother to glance at the bulletin board in the Slytherin Common Room, as she only ever stepped foot in there while passing through to either her dorm or the exit, and since there was never anything of importance on there. The couple times in her first year that she had looked at it simply because she thought it would be safe to regularly do so, she had gathered that it was all advertisements for illicit Dark objects that older Slytherin students were trying to sell (or just wanted to get rid of before it hurt them somehow) and for certain clubs in Hogwarts. After becoming friends with Severus and getting a means to talk to him daily a few weeks into her first year, she had figured that he, being a teacher and her Head of House no less, would tell her anything important that she needed to know, and therefore she would never need to look at the Common Room bulletin board. So far, nothing of the sort had happened.

But after leaving the library on Thursday evening, winding her way through the labyrinth of corridors of the dungeons back to the Common Room, and giving the empty stretch of stone wall the password, Vesperra entered to see a group of people surrounding the bulletin board. Curious, she went against her better judgment and let her feet carry her to the group of students rather than straight across to the corridors leading to the dormitories.

"…course, I know plenty about Hogsmeade already," Malfoy was saying in his usual smug voice and from his usual armchair near the wall where the notice board was. "My father's taken me there loads of times, even before I came to Hogwarts. There aren't as many _interesting_ things there, like there are in Knockturn Alley, and it's really not worth getting very excited about."

By the vagueness of his words, the tiniest hint of excitement in his voice, and the uncharacteristic shine in his normally cold eyes, Vesperra guessed that Malfoy was lying both about having ever been to Hogsmeade and that he thought it wasn't anything to be excited over. Actually, considering his wealthy family, it wasn't that unlikely that he'd been there before, but Vesperra doubted he had gone there after turning five, and so he wouldn't remember any of it. Otherwise, he might have gone but not been allowed to look around and had to stick to his father's side. He was pretty much a daddy's boy, after all. And now that Vesperra thought about it, her mother might have taken her once or twice as a very small child, but she had no collective memory of it.

"_Speaking_ of interesting things in Knockturn Alley," drawled Malfoy seconds later as he turned his head and caught sight of Vesperra, "_she's_ here. Were your ears burning, Grease-perra?"

The nearby third years that Malfoy was talking to as well as some older and younger Slytherins followed Malfoy's eyes and mad grin to see Vesperra. Wearing her trademark scowl, she ignored the stares and laughs (having been used to them for a while) and Malfoy's last question. "What's going on?" she asked half angrily and half curiously, harshly arching an eyebrow and folding her arms over her chest.

Vesperra hated to talk directly to Malfoy, as she always felt like speaking to him was somewhere on the level of civility (however low it was), and any civil interaction with him felt disgusting, but she wanted to know what all the hubbub was about.

"First Hogsmeade visit, Grease-perra," said Malfoy with a hearty-casual tone. "Two weeks from now. On Halloween. It'll be the perfect chance for you to ask Professor Snape on a date—who knows, he might say yes, since you could both use some time out in the sun…. And I bet he'll be a proper gentleman and pay for everything, because we all know you haven't got any money…."

But Vesperra was already on her way to her dorm, having promptly turned her back on Malfoy and started to walk away the moment he used 'Professor Snape' and 'date' in the same sentence, grinding her teeth together very hard. She ignored the laughter that had rung out, but still caught the last of Malfoy's taunts before she walked completely out of earshot. Once again, it was almost disturbing how accurate he had been without knowing it. That was _exactly_ what Severus would do, actually, if for some reason he accompanied her to Hogsmeade. He was a right proper gentleman with her, and she could clearly imagine him insisting to pay for anything they came across. But there was no way he would come, even if he wanted to. How could they possibly hide from the hundreds of students there that she and Severus were friends if they were there together? The very idea of it was just plain stupid.

Though her face wouldn't have shown it, Vesperra's heart had made a small leap in her chest upon discovering the upcoming Hogsmeade visit. However, she couldn't help but be disappointed that she would have an entire Sunday of fun and visiting the largest entirely non-Muggle place in Britain without having Severus there to share it with. She didn't share those particular feelings with him through the journals that night, though, nor did she mention what Malfoy had said. Instead, she simply told him that she knew about the Hogsmeade trip, and apparently he had been planning on telling her that night. Vesperra didn't express any of her eagerness to visit Hogsmeade to him, as she felt childish just feeling it in the first place. Then again, she was a Slytherin, and Slytherins were rarely enthusiastic about much unless it involved others being hurt.

* * *

All that was on a lot of the third years' minds for the next couple weeks was the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, as it would be their first ever. Even if they had been there before, with their parents, Vesperra supposed it would be a very different experience to go there during the school year. It would be a nice break from schoolwork for most, as well as a break from authority.

One of the best parts was that it was completely unchaperoned, and students were free to go wherever and buy whatever they wanted without teachers watching them. However, that might not have been the best idea, because it would make people like Malfoy think that they could go around mercilessly bullying people as they liked, and without fear of being caught. But at least they could expect full retaliation.

And of course, it wasn't unexpected in the least that Malfoy and the other third years (which was now more often including students from other years and Houses) now had a whole hew range of ideas for taunts, all having something to do with Severus and Hogsmeade. Vesperra had been living with this sort of thing happening for the past two years, so she knew what was going to happen the night before and had mentally prepared herself for it. She even thought of a few good, harsh comebacks for possible things they might say beforehand, but she'd prefer not to talk at all.

Most of the older students were looking forward to Halloween as well, and there were only a few seventh years that didn't seem to care about going, as they had already been to Hogsmeade so many times. Vesperra knew for a fact that her time in Hogsmeade would not be perfectly pleasant (not while Malfoy was still alive and actively sought for her to be miserable, at least), but she was definitely not going to stay behind and miss out on the first trip simply because her fun would be hindered by the same thing she endured every day. Even though doing so would allow her to spend an entire day alone with Severus in the empty, quiet castle, Hogsmeade would be worth it. It just had to be.

Exactly two weeks later, however, on the last Thursday of October, Vesperra found out that staying behind wouldn't have meant a day alone with Severus, anyway.

* * *

Those weeks had gone by smoothly for the both of them—well, 'smoothly' compared to the majority of their lives. It was generally uneventful and void of things that were out of the ordinary—what was ordinary for them, at least. Neither Severus nor Vesperra had been driven to annoyance or frustration beyond what they often felt by Lupin and Malfoy, and nothing regarding Sirius Black had happened since the Muggle woman had supposedly sighted him. But, as Halloween grew closer, so did the full moon, which was exactly eight days from Friday the twenty-ninth.

_You're not busy with homework, are you?_ was the first message Vesperra had received in her journal Thursday evening just after dinner.

_**No. I'll be at your office in a minute.**_

She didn't need to ask—it was obvious that he wanted her to visit him, because there was no other reason he'd say that. Ignoring the cold, gray eyes that were surely following her, she walked back through the Common Room without any question as to why Severus wanted her, because that part was just as obvious.

* * *

"I suppose you've already done the math and figured out that the full moon is in exactly eight days?" said Severus after casting an Imperturbable Charm on his door, his lip curling in annoyance—not at her, but at the month's timing. Vesperra was already sitting on his couch, waiting for him.

"Yes, I did," Vesperra sighed, equally annoyed. Severus was less than careful as he let himself fall onto the couch, jostling the other cushions slightly.

"I thought we could have a few hours of time together before not speaking at all for three days. I'd obviously prefer there was more time—but it's a weeknight," he finished, with his brow creasing momentarily until he looked back at Vesperra, whose expression conveyed something along the lines of "Yeah, we might as well."

And they did. It wasn't a particularly eventful visit, but at least they could be physically close for the time being. They eventually came around to the topic of Hogsmeade, the trip to which would be in three days, also the day that Severus would finish the Wolfsbane potion for the second time.

"At least you'll be mostly brewing on the weekend this time," said Vesperra. "So you'll have time to sleep and do the other things you have to do…."

"One convenience robbed to be replaced by another…" Severus muttered, also grateful for his time being on the weekend as he had been when he first planned out his brewing schedule a few days prior. "And I'll be finished midday on Halloween—you'll be in Hogsmeade then." And he didn't say it, but they both knew that it would then be another week until they could have more than a couple hours to spend with each other.

Trying not to dwell on the near future and instead just enjoy her time (which was quite a feat for people like her and Severus), Vesperra thought for a moment, then said, "While I'm at Hogsmeade, do you want me to bring you back anything?" She knew that he could visit Hogsmeade whenever he wanted, since he was a teacher, but she figured it would just be more convenient.

Severus was forcibly reminded of his childhood years at her words. Not that he'd ever had to stay behind during a Hogsmeade trip as a student, but her tone was strangely Lily-esque. It was a simple, casual, innocent, friendly question, but it made him smile. And yet—

"No, you don't need to waste your money on me," he told her. "You already have very little as it is. And if anything, I'd want to restock on Firewhiskey, which neither Rosmerta nor Aberforth would let you purchase."

Vesperra frowned slightly. "It wouldn't be wasting it…. I really wouldn't mind spending money on you." Severus seemed to be about to open his mouth to argue, but Vesperra promptly gave his hand a hard squeeze. "And—you told me about Madam Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks, but who's Aberforth?"

He hadn't realized his slip at first, but quickly decided that it didn't matter and had no consequence. "He owns the Hog's Head pub," said Severus with slight indifference. The next sentence, however, he was more careful in saying. "And he's… Dumbledore's brother. Aberforth Dumbledore." This was a rare time that Severus had a somewhat surprising piece of information that wasn't personal to him, so he didn't mind telling Vesperra at all.

"I didn't know Dumbledore had a brother…." She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. Vesperra had never even thought about Dumbledore having a family, let alone any members of it that were still alive. It was an odd thought and simply didn't seem real, in the same way that she could hardly imagine what the part of Severus's past was that he kept from her.

After Vesperra accepted that fact, which didn't seem so bizarre the more she thought about it, they resumed normal conversation.

"I suppose I'll leave now, since you'll need sleep before tomorrow," said Vesperra a good twenty minutes before Severus would have told her to get to bed. She stood up without waiting for his assent, hardly looking tired.

"It's not that late," Severus protested, frowning and refusing to let go of her hand as she made a weak attempt to pull hers away. She took in a quick, yet quiet breath, almost as though she was annoyed at him being so immature.

"But you won't be getting much sleep tomorrow night, so I thought you'd want to make up for it tonight," she said.

Severus would have argued further, but there was something in the fact that she cared more about whether he got enough sleep than whether she spent enough time with him. His grip on her hand slackened, and his chest relaxed, releasing the breath he had been holding and saving for telling her to stay. So he did not insist that she stay another twenty minutes, and he was not going to make her stay.

"I really should," said Severus, defeated, suddenly feeling a lot more tired. "Goodnight, then."

Glad, Vesperra continued walking towards the door, but stopped at the right side of the couch, where he was sitting. Without warning, she bent down and placed a quick kiss on his temple, very briefly burrowing her face in his hair. "Night, Severus. See you tomorrow—sort of." A small smile reached her eyes but wasn't quite strong enough to reach her lips, and then she left.

* * *

As Vesperra had said, the two of them only caught brief glances of each other at meals throughout the next couple days. Well, Vesperra was the one glancing, but she knew that Severus may very well have been watching her the entire time. She hardly realized that that should have felt slightly creepy to her.

It was, however, easier to deal with now that she had the Hogsmeade trip to look forward to and take her mind off of it for the last day. In fact, she felt mostly confident that this Halloween would prove to be the best she'd had. Of course, all her Halloweens before her first year at Hogwarts had been just like normal days (only a bit more miserable), so that was nothing to even compare to…. But two years before, Quirrell had let a troll into the dungeons, disrupting the feast, and Severus's leg had nearly been torn off. Vesperra winced inwardly at the thought. And last year, the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. For this year's Halloween to be worse than the last two even with visiting Hogsmeade, someone would have to die.

As she and most Slytherins usually did, Vesperra had retained her calm even throughout breakfast on Halloween, though she was rather annoyed by the more jovial mood filling the Great Hall than usual. The Bloody Baron didn't try to start a conversation with her this time, but instead just drifted a few inches above the table as usual, gaunt and staring with his silvery bloodstains glittering in the early morning sunlight from the enchanted ceiling and high windows. It was ironic, though, because she was starting not to mind him so much. And she found herself strangely curious as to how he had gotten those bloodstains, though she had never wondered before.

That calm slowly ebbed away to be replaced with undeniable anxiousness when the majority of the students third year and above filed into the Entrance Hall, where they queued up into a very long line at the great oak doors. Going to Hogsmeade for the first time was just one of those things that you can't believe once it's actually happening. Vesperra hastened to get in line, not paying attention to anything except the decreasing distance between her and Filch, who was checking off names and screwing up his already heavily wrinkled face at every student who walked past him.

"Staying here, Potter?" shouted a voice close by, which told Vesperra, who was suddenly very tense, that Malfoy was a couple people behind her. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

She glanced for a moment at Potter, who was ascending the marble staircase and disappearing out of sight rather than lining up with everybody else. Vesperra was somewhat curious as to why he wasn't going to Hogsmeade, and would have smirked in satisfaction that he was going to miss out on everything, but she was suddenly focused on the fact that _she_ would have to pass the dementors too. Dread seeped slowly into her and made her heartbeats suddenly heavy, as though she was already experiencing the dementors' horrible effects….

But it would only be for a few seconds, wouldn't it? She'd be able to handle that, it wouldn't be like it was on the train, she wouldn't be reduced to a shaking mess, no, she'd be fine…

With these thoughts haunting her, she almost didn't realize it when she was finally standing in front of Filch, and the old caretaker was scanning his eyes down the list and repeatedly looking suspiciously at her in a way that made most students visibly uncomfortable. Though she was extremely uncomfortable, she merely stood there and waited for him to find her name, which should have been on there, since she had given Severus her permission slip a couple weeks ago.

"'D'... 'D'… D'Monicas. Right… fine," said Filch. He looked apprehensive about letting her leave, but that was for obvious reasons. Filch loathed the idea of children enjoying anything.

The chilly morning breeze hit Vesperra as she stepped outside, blowing her hair momentarily out of her face. She went down the stone steps, trying not to think about the dementors up ahead. Following the students in front of her, she walked down the dirt path that the horseless carriages treaded at the beginning and end of the year as well as holidays to take students from Hogsmeade station to Hogwarts, and vice versa.

And hardly ten minutes after leaving the castle, Vesperra was passing through the towering, iron gates flanked by the statues of winged boars. Two dementors, high above them, were circling ominously as guards, their black, withering cloaks drifting in a way that made Vesperra's stomach churn. As she drew closer to them, the air grew colder, and her mood steadily dropped into near hopelessness… but she looked only ahead, and tried to think only of Severus…. She obviously couldn't produce a Patronus, but focusing hard on the source of all her happiness would make it more difficult for the dementors to suck it straight out of her…. And, after a minute, Vesperra realized that the dementors were at least fifty feet behind her now, and the blood returned to her face.

Figuring early on that it was going to be a long walk, since it normally took at least twenty or so minutes to reach Hogwarts from the station by the carriages, Vesperra supposed that that was one of the drawbacks to visiting Hogsmeade. But it would be worth it, however badly her calves were burning by the time she got there. Further down the trail they went, groups of students nearby talking animatedly and looking very glad to get out of the school. It seemed that Vesperra was one of the only ones walking alone, and Draco Malfoy must have noticed it as well, because—

"I don't even know what you're doing, going to Hogsmeade, Grease-perra," he drawled, walking behind her. "What are you even going to do with no money and no friends? Professor Snape won't be there, so I expect you'll be tremendously bored, just wandering around and scaring small children…"

That was followed by sniggers, undoubtedly from Crabbe and Goyle. Vesperra scowled but otherwise ignored them and made no indication that she'd heard them. She did, in fact, have money, which she had nicked from her mum back when the woman had still had a job, but she couldn't help but agree that not having Severus there would make Hogsmeade a lot less of an experience that it could have been. Hogsmeade wasn't just a village, it was a place to get away to, and a place you went to spend time with friends. If only she had gone to Hogwarts the same years as Severus, or they were suddenly in an alternate universe where no one would care that they were friends.

After what felt like ages, the trail had widened and branched off—the right side leading directly to Hogsmeade station, and the other into the main part of the village, near the square. The road was no longer dirt, but made of stone, which was perfectly flat unlike the cobblestones in Diagon Alley. The sight that met Vesperra's eyes as Hogsmeade came into full view around her was overwhelming, even for _her_.

Even if she had never heard of Hogsmeade before, she would have known that this place was only for witches and wizards, because there was a distinct magical quality about it. It was a welcoming feeling, with all the thatched cottages and shops that were clearly magical…. After all, Vesperra had never felt like she belonged near Muggles. The surrounding trees and mountains gave it the feel of a safe little haven, sitting in a valley, guarded by the mountains all around. But it was anything but little—it was several times larger than Diagon Alley, as it had far more shops and included cottages on the outer streets and even outside the village boundaries, becoming sparser and sparser as the surrounding nature grew rougher. It was just peaceful, and even Vesperra couldn't resist simply appreciating how beautiful it was.

As she walked slowly down the wide streets (in order to observe everything properly), it quickly became apparent to Vesperra that the main street of interest was High Street, which was where most of the shops were. Hardly any students wandered off elsewhere, and they were mostly congregated inside the Three Broomsticks Inn, which seemed to be both the biggest and most popular place by far. She would have gone inside, especially with it being her first time in Hogsmeade, but it was much too crowded for her liking. The students and locals in there must have been packed with at least three times the density that the Great Hall normally was at mealtimes. It would have been impossible to find an empty booth or table in there, and she would have been very uncomfortable.

Vesperra walked past the Three Broomsticks with a bit of regret, almost deciding that she'd try to come back later when it wasn't as crowded (since she didn't want to miss out on what was a very well-known Wizarding pub), but then she remembered what Severus had said a couple days before about the Hog's Head barman and owner being Dumbledore's brother. Her curiosity was piqued, and she just had to catch a glimpse of the man. So, still looking at all the shops as she walked past them, she made her way up High Street and wandered through some of the other streets until she reached what looked like one the very corner of Hogsmeade. In it stood the Hog's Head pub, looking rather beaten-down in contrast to most of the shops, especially the Three Broomsticks.

It wasn't at all difficult to surmise that this was the sort of establishment that shady people would hang around in, almost like the shops in Knockturn Alley, and she didn't doubt that illegal trading went on in there. Considering this, it was hardly the type of place she would associate with anyone related to Dumbledore, and that sparked her curiosity even further. She should have walked straight away at the look of the place, but she felt drawn to the Hog's Head just like she did to Knockturn Alley. It was the knowledge that she probably shouldn't be there even though it was perfectly within the rules for her to be, which she knew because Severus had spoken about it in a way that implied he wouldn't necessarily mind her coming here. And it was also the fact that the place seemed much quieter and less crowded than the Three Broomsticks.

Glancing at the sign out front, which showed a severed hog's head on a white table cloth and its blood staining it, and quickly down the street to see that it was nearly empty, Vesperra walked closer and pushed the door open. The moment she did, she saw that it was a dingy, one-room pub, and the floor was extremely dirty. She found that she didn't mind it so much. The others in the pub certainly did look very dodgy, and many of them had their faces covered—she wasn't surprised, the air in the Hog's Head wasn't as breathable as the air outside. Most of them were sitting alone, and if there was any conversation going on between those who weren't, it was kept to very low voices. Only a couple of them raised their heads to look at her, as far as she saw (though she could have easily been mistaken, since she couldn't follow their eyes under their veils and hoods), and they almost immediately looked back down, paying her no attention. Vesperra found it strange that none of them seemed at all concerned as to why she was here, since she doubted students came here often, but was grateful nevertheless.

Caring not whether anyone in the room felt that she should be in there, she walked confidently up to the bar and avoided looking at two men on one end of it that were speaking to each other with thick voices in what sounded like Russian. Behind the bar was the man that she had come here specifically to see, and he was passing a smoking goblet—Firewhiskey, it must have been—to the Russian men at the end of the bar. He then turned to her, but didn't look very surprised like Vesperra thought he might have, and picked up a rag to start cleaning an empty glass.

And Vesperra was admittedly shocked by how similar and yet how different Aberforth was to his brother. Like Dumbledore, he wore glasses, and had the same twinkling blue eyes that had annoyed her and Severus so much—but she didn't see that as a reason to have anything against this man. He was also just as tall and thin, and had a very long beard and hair, but it wasn't quite the silvery gray that his brother's was. Although, these similarities wouldn't have been as apparent if she hadn't known beforehand that it was Aberforth Dumbledore. His demeanor was far from calm or serene, and he rather looked like a grumpy old man. And Vesperra couldn't help but associate his appearance with that of a goat's, what with his somewhat grizzled hair and the positioning of his mouth and nose. She made sure not to make it look as though she was staring at him, however, and only let her eyes rest on the man for a second at a time.

"What?" he grunted at once, apparently indifferent to the fact that a third year girl was in his pub.

For a second, Vesperra considered asking for Firewhiskey, just to see whether Severus had lied about that, but didn't think it would be a good idea to return to Hogwarts slightly inebriated. Instead, she remembered one thing Severus had told her about, which was pretty much the only thing she was allowed to have that wasn't served at Hogwarts already—

"A butterbeer," said Vesperra casually, still trying to inconspicuously get a better look at Aberforth. She had never had any of that stuff, but from what she heard, it wasn't the sort of thing you'd want to miss. The barman, looking a little grumpier now, bent down and pulled a dusty bottle out of the cupboard underneath, slamming it on the bar.

"Two Sickles," grunted Aberforth. While separating that amount from the small pile of coins inside her robe pocket, Vesperra noted how odd it was that Dumbledore's brother would have such a gruff voice.

Dropping the Sickles onto the bar and taking the bottle, she moved away from the barstools and made for the booth in the far corner. As she sat down, she inspected the bottle of butterbeer, and guessed that it wasn't sold very often in the Hog's Head. But of course, the outside of the bottle being dusty didn't affect the taste—not that she'd tasted it yet, anyway—or add any health hazards, so she wasn't concerned. Still, though, she used her robes to wipe off most of the dust, especially around the rim, before she drank any.

The butterbeer tasted surprisingly good—better than good, even. Not that she had expected it to be awful, but she hadn't imagined that she'd like it this much. It tasted much like butterscotch, but without the dry feeling in your throat when you ate it. And though it wasn't warm, it seemed to warm her insides. It was a very pleasant feeling—not unlike the warmth that spread through her chest whenever she was close to Severus, but much milder.

While she drank, Vesperra looked around more at the dingy pub. If it weren't for the residual acidic stench in the air and the fact that she was the only person that didn't look as though they might be doing something illegal or hiding a deadly skin affliction, she'd have liked it. For now, she just didn't mind it. It was better than being harassed by Malfoy or being surrounded by other people with barely any room to move. The windows were just as dusty as her bottle of butterbeer had been, but she could still see outside, and decided, as she finished her butterbeer and the misty look of the early morning was replaced by clearer light, that she should leave. So Vesperra promptly stood up, and glanced once more at Aberforth before stepping back outside.

Feeling satisfied that she had gone to one place that she wanted to go, she thought about where to go next. Of course, High Street would be crowded all day, and she couldn't avoid it forever if she wanted to see everything, but she didn't want to subject herself to having her personal bubble horribly invaded just yet. The only place of interest she could think of that wouldn't be noisy and crowded was the Shrieking Shack, and she suddenly had a burning desire to see it. She wasn't sure why, considering how it was associated with several things that she hated, but she just _had_ to see the place….

Without noticing at first, her legs started taking her back to High Street and down the way she came, in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Vesperra walked with her hands in her pockets, looking around occasionally to see if Malfoy or anyone else that would like to antagonize her for fun were nearby. She didn't see them at all, but she didn't let her guard down completely as she walked past the Three Broomsticks and up the slope to where the building in question was. For a while she just climbed the hill, but then stopped when she felt she was close enough.

Even in daylight, the Shrieking Shack was particularly creepy. The surrounding air was that of grim foreboding, and it leaned ominously over the overgrown grass. It would have been clear even if she knew nothing about the place that no one had ever lived here, because of the very old-looking wood and boarded up windows. There didn't seem to be any way to get in, and Vesperra was one of the few people that knew why—the only entrance was the tunnel from the base Whomping Willow, which Lupin had entered every month as a child… because he was a _werewolf_.

Vesperra felt a strong surge of loathing towards the place, especially now that she was so close to it…. This was the place Severus had almost been killed when he was fifteen, because of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Though the memories were not hers, they stung as she looked at this dilapidated building, and she hated Black and Lupin more than ever—and even James Potter, because even though he had saved Severus's life, he had merely been saving his own skin. Grinding her teeth, she decided that she had looked long enough. She had faced it, and now she was done. Rather than feeling angry at herself for ever coming, however, she was glad that she had gotten it out of the way. She likely would have been angry with herself if she never did come.

And then, just as she turned around—

"So is this where you've been the past hour?" said Malfoy, who, even though he was going up a steep slope, still managed to swagger up it, with Crabbe and Goyle at his sides. He stopped a good ten feet from her, as though careful not to catch some disease she had. "I'm not surprised—the setting fits you pretty well, actually…. Anyone coming up here that didn't recognize the back of your greasy head would think that you haunted this place."

Malfoy grinned smugly, and Crabbe and Goyle chuckled sycophantically as expected. Vesperra, who was already scowling, shot him a deadly look and resisted the involuntary twitch of her right hand to her sleeve as she made to walk quickly past him back down the slope. She didn't know why she resisted it, though, seeing as there was no one else there, no witnesses…

"Aw, why so upset, Grease-perra?" Malfoy called after her. "Is it because you realized you'll never live in a house as nice as this one? Of course, this would be the perfect place for you and Snape if you ever got married—and if you could afford it, which I doubt…"

_Why don't you just shut the bloody hell up, Malfoy?_ Vesperra thought savagely. As she did, her hand shot to her sleeve and pulled out her wand at once, and she started to turn around, but she couldn't swivel on her heel like she was used to because of the angle of the slope, and had to be careful not to lose her balance.

It was because of this, and likely also because Malfoy had already had his wand out, that Vesperra was hardly able to say "_Lang—!_" before he had his own wand on her and, looking very frightened, was saying "_Expelliarmus!_"

Her wand flew out of her hand and Vesperra was thrown back a few feet, horribly reminded of what had happened with Quirrell years before, with him silencing her, then using the Cruciatus Curse, and all that pain… and then having the Full Body-Bind on her for what seemed like forever until Severus had found her and she had broken down, crying, and then he had carried her to the Hospital Wing… And she was sure Malfoy wouldn't use anything as serious as the Cruciatus Curse, since he couldn't have known how, but she was suddenly robbed of breath, and it was in a far different way from what Severus's kiss had done to her. Vesperra was scared, because Malfoy had the upper hand; he had a wand, and she did not. She wasn't even standing—she was half on her side and half on her arse, holding onto a rock to keep from rolling down the hill, waiting with dread to see what he would do and not letting her face show just how afraid she was. Whatever Malfoy did, Severus couldn't come save her this time.

"Leave it to Grease-perra to take her wand with her wherever she goes," sneered Malfoy, glancing at Vesperra's wand, which had rolled a ways down the hill and was only kept from rolling further by a tuffet of grass. "Good thing I decided to bring mine, or else I might be _dead_…. Well, not this time, Grease-perra." He looked as though he was about to raise his wand again and hex her, but then something in his malicious look in his pale gray eyes changed—to fear?—and it seemed that seeing Vesperra in a helpless state was enough for him as he let his wand arm stay at his side and started walking.

"Come on—Crabbe, Goyle." he said, folding his arms. "Have fun, Grease-perra…."

As relieved as she was, Vesperra couldn't help but mutter "Coward" under her breath when Malfoy was too far down the hill to hear her. _Smart of him, though... He knows if he did anything worse I'd get revenge, even worse than I did last time…_ She waited until Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle disappeared into High Street to pull herself to a standing position and find her wand, and she immediately felt safer when she held it again. She felt so vulnerable anytime she was apart from her wand….

Scowling, she slid her wand into her sleeve, and wiped all the dirt, which was nearly wet enough to be mud because of the weather lately, off her robes. At least it hadn't rained in a few days, and it wasn't wet today, or else she would have been covered in mud. Vesperra was in a rather foul mood now, and her stubbornness made her want to go straight back to Hogwarts, because she didn't even want to see if the rest of Hogsmeade could get her mind off Malfoy. But that only lasted until she made it to the bottom of the hill, because being on level ground with all the shops on High Street that she hadn't yet seen the inside of restored her rational thinking.

She just couldn't leave now… no, she was just being stubborn, of course she wasn't going to leave. Malfoy hadn't done anything but disarm her, that wasn't worth missing out on all this….

Still disgruntled, however, she sighed and walked into High Street rather than down the trail leading back to Hogwarts, deciding simply to avoid Malfoy for the next few hours.

* * *

**Most of that was just the goings on at Hogwarts during October... But I hope you liked it. And yay, Hogsmeade! I'd _really_ love to go to Hogsmeade, so you can expect me to go into a lot of detail for the rest of it in the next chapter.**

**In the meantime, please review! ^_^**


	36. Book 3: Chapter 8

**New chapter! YESSS! I don't have much to say except, please enjoy the chapter! ^_^**

* * *

That small kiss on his temple, brief and simple as it was, was what got Severus through the next couple days of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion. There was something about it that just made it easier to fall asleep that night, and it had a lasting effect of keeping him calmer than he would have been without it. _Vesperra should do that more often,_ he had thought. And he was sure she had intended for it to keep him calm as it did, which made it even better. Kisses did, after all, have healing powers. But was it the kiss itself or the intent behind it…?

As the second day of creating the Wolfsbane Potion was the most demanding, there was no time to speak to Vesperra, even though it was a Saturday. When he could spare a stray thought, he wondered how she was spending her time if she had an entire day of nothing to do but read. Of course, most of his days of staying at Hogwarts over the holidays while Lily visited her family as well as the time after her death until he met Vesperra had been that way, and her life had likely been the same before she started attending Hogwarts, but they had been spoiled with each other. It wouldn't be as easy to return to that life, even for a couple days. At least she would have plenty to do on Halloween….

But part of him, a very selfish part of him, wished that she could stay at Hogwarts with him rather than go to Hogsmeade, because he was plagued with particularly painful memories on Halloween. It was the anniversary of Lily's death, and he would never forget that. Lily was in Severus's thoughts everyday, whether he was consciously thinking of her or if she was roaming the back of his mind, as she did whenever he looked at Potter—especially at his eyes, that were the exact shape and color as hers… However, the thoughts brought him so much pain that he never purposely thought of her when he wasn't completely alone. When such thoughts were forced into his mind, he hid them. He didn't show feelings, and he didn't show his pain. That was what Occlumency was for.

When he was with Vesperra, though, Severus was almost always reminded of all the things that he loved about Lily. At those times, his mind was steered away from her death and he embraced the pain of remembering her, because he couldn't look past how much Vesperra was like her and at the same time so much like him. Vesperra always calmed him down and eased any pain, emotional or physical, just by being there. Her presence would have made most of it—the guilt, the pain, the horrible feeling of loss and emptiness—easier to deal with.

It was ironic that he had to spend the day marking the death of the woman he loved finishing a potion for a man that he hated. Wanting more than usual to redeem himself for Lily, he was feeling extra protective over Potter, but there was really nothing to do. The boy was alone inside the castle, and not out in Hogsmeade with the rest of the school, so he was in no danger. So Severus simply got on with the Wolfsbane Potion, mourning Lily all the while, though not very much more than he usually did. He almost never wallowed in sad memories—he endured them. He kept his true feelings bottled deep inside (though not as much when he was alone with Vesperra), and didn't let them affect his work.

However, he realized in the middle of the morning on Halloween that, by brewing the potion, he was making sure Lupin wouldn't attack anyone on the upcoming full moon, and therefore he _was_ protecting Potter, in a way. That gave him more of a feeling of purpose, and he felt like he was slightly more worthy of Lily's forgiveness for indirectly killing her. It was still with a stiff composure and a stony expression, however, that he added the last touches to the Wolfsbane Potion, wishing as always that this day no longer existed, that it could simply be erased from the calendar so he would never have to experience it again.

But he was a grown man, and had aged far beyond his physical self, so he shouldn't dwell on such unrealistic thoughts. Those wishes were impossible, but he couldn't help but have them, nor could he help but wish, however selfish it was, that Vesperra was there with him. And yet, even that was a stupid thing to wish, because even if she had insisted on staying, he wouldn't have let her. He would have ignored his selfish desires and told her to go have fun in Hogsmeade. At least he knew _she_ was relatively happy right now… That softened his mood a bit.

The morning had passed by neither slowly nor quickly as Severus added the very last of the ingredients to the Wolfsbane Potion and let it simmer at certain intervals, and he ended up finishing sooner than he expected. He didn't know whether he found that to be a good or a bad thing, because it meant both that it would be another month before he had to brew it again, and that there would be the entire rest of the day until after the feast that he had to spend without Vesperra and without a distraction from that fact.

Severus could have called Lupin through the Floo network and had him come get the potion himself, but he wanted to be as busy as possible to keep his mind off of other things. Actually walking to Lupin's office and back would kill a good fifteen minutes or so if he didn't walk so fast. And of course, he couldn't walk very fast with a goblet in his hands without fear of spilling it.

Ladling the proper dosage into a goblet, Severus promptly carried the faintly smoking potion out of the dungeons and to the second floor, seeing no one but a few of the Hogwarts ghosts (thankfully not Peeves, who didn't always listen to him despite the fact that he was a teacher) and hearing nothing but the chatter of the wall portraits on the way. The corridors were peacefully empty, which was one of the things he always liked about Hogsmeade weekends, except it had been several years since there was a Hogsmeade visit on Halloween. But it was hardly less enjoyable.

When Severus was merely feet away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts office door, he could hear muffled voices from inside, likely because his years of spying had made his ears well-trained to pick up on small noises. He didn't think much of it, though, since he automatically assumed Lupin would be speaking to another member of the staff, possibly through his fireplace, and the rest of the staff knew all about his disease. So he knocked.

"Come in," called Lupin's voice.

Severus opened the door at once, and walked in. Barely a second later, he saw who was sitting in the chair in front of Lupin's desk out of his peripheral vision, and it wasn't a teacher or any other member of the staff. It was Potter, looking as though he had expected Severus to be the person at the door as little as he had expected Potter to be the other person in the room. Behind his glasses, the boy's eyes were widened mildly in controlled fear, but Severus's confusion was too great to be satisfied that his presence had that effect. He had stopped in his tracks at the sight of the boy, his eyes narrowing as his penetrating gaze fixed on Potter.

"Ah, Severus," said Lupin. Severus looked back at him to see that the man was smiling, as he normally did. It annoyed him. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Slowly, he stepped forward and set down the goblet of Wolfsbane Potion, even more annoyed that Lupin was acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary, and wanting to know why the hell Potter was in there. He wasn't going to ask that directly, but instead moved his eyes between the two of them, quickly gathering something he hated to think—that Potter and Lupin were _friends_. Surely the kid wasn't in here for any sort of lecture or punishment, which Severus knew because of the cup of tea in front of him. As good-natured as Lupin was, he wouldn't offer tea to someone he was punishing.

Apparently noticing Severus's confusion, Lupin said, "I was just showing Harry my grindylow." He pointed to the corner of the room, but Severus didn't care about the grindylow, and didn't even glance at it.

"Fascinating," he said with a bit of a sneer, looking directly at Lupin and no longer at Potter. "You should drink that directly, Lupin." It was at this that Severus became almost glad that Potter was in here, because the boy would see him giving Lupin his potion, and if he wasn't as much of an idiot generally as he was in Potions, he would understand that Lupin had a disease. Severus couldn't tell anyone directly, but he wasn't forbidden from encouraging any of the students to find out for themselves that Lupin was a werewolf….

"Yes, yes, I will," said Lupin.

"I made an entire cauldronful, if you need more," continued Severus, figuring that his wording should have made it obvious to Potter that this was some sort of medicine.

"I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all," Severus said with forced politeness, mostly because Potter was in there. He wanted almost nothing less than for _him_ to know anything of his past, which meant he couldn't have Potter wondering whether there was any personal, one-sided animosity between him and Lupin. There was still, however, a glint of loathing in his eyes for the both of them as he backed out of the room, stone-faced, until he closed the door and swept back down the corridors.

What made him angry in a way that no one else would understand was that Potter and Lupin had clearly taken a liking to each other. Severus still didn't trust the werewolf, and never would, but Potter apparently did. There were two feasible reasons as to why Lupin would like to be on friendly terms with Potter; either because Potter was the son of the man who was once friends with Lupin (especially with the fact that he looked almost exactly like his father), or because Lupin was still friends with Sirius Black, had somehow had a part in that murderer's escape, and wanted to get Potter to trust him so he could hand him over to Black when he had the chance. Severus found the second possibility much more likely.

And why Potter liked Lupin wasn't a difficult thing to guess—Potter responded to attention, and clearly Lupin had given him some. From what Vesperra had told him and what he had seen and heard around the castle, Severus knew that Lupin was now most of the students' favorite teacher. What reason could Lupin have given anyone but him and Vesperra _not_ to trust him?

This was part of what made Severus both angry and worried—_they all trusted Lupin. _He couldn't have the majority of the students but Vesperra having no idea that Lupin had any traits or otherwise that would make him untrustworthy. Especially not Potter, who was in the most danger if Severus was correct in thinking that Lupin was not looking out for the boy's best interest. And he wasn't only angry about no one else distrusting the man, but also in the very fact that Potter trusted him. It made Severus's job even more difficult, and it was extremely frustrating that Potter always trusted the wrong people.

Despite all of this sudden anger and frustration, the fact that it was Lily's deathday was not driven from Severus's mind, and, if anything, it only strengthened his anger. He was protecting Potter for Lily and _only_ for her, and on the anniversary of her death he comes across Potter in the office of a man he doesn't trust—a werewolf and the former (possibly still) friend of the murderer that had escaped Azkaban and wanted to kill him. How horribly convenient.

Every step Severus took away from that office felt like a hand clutching harder and harder on his heart, since he was leaving Potter alone with Lupin, but he knew he couldn't stay. But then, as he turned a corner, he heard the clicking of a door opening and closing echoing throughout the corridors, and knew it must have been Potter leaving. Figuring that Lupin wouldn't have dared harm the boy while he was nearby, Severus continued down to his dungeon office.

He immediately sat down on his couch, seething, and gripped the arm of the couch very hard, half-expecting a small hand to take his other hand, which lay to the left of him. Severus was now so used to that whenever he sat at this couch that he was nearly surprised when he didn't feel anything. His eyebrows knitting together and the lines of his face deepening, he glanced down at his empty hand, and then at the empty spot on the couch that Vesperra often inhabited. Now, more than ever, he wanted her to be sitting next to him. Even though he wouldn't have been able to tell her exactly why he was angry about Potter or about it being Lily's birthday, it would have at least been some comfort to have her there. Without Vesperra's hand to hold, he clutched at his couch cushion and scowled, starting to become irrationally angry at her for leaving.

_No… No, that's selfish, I can't be angry at her—she had no idea that I'd end up needing her so badly… and neither did I. How could I be angry with her at all? I wouldn't—I _couldn't_—have even asked her to stay and not go to Hogsmeade, I wouldn't expect her to want to, just for me… Dammit, why am I so bloody selfish?_

Severus couldn't push away the desire for Vesperra to have not gone to Hogsmeade, and he hated himself for it. But he needed something to calm him down, and in a way that only Vesperra could do. For the moment, he could take a Calming Draught, but Vesperra could do what a potion couldn't, and that was make him genuinely content, and not the sort of content feeling that came from a potion or spell affecting certain glands in his brain and his heart rate. Just like love potions—even Amortentia, the strongest of them, could not create genuine love. As happiness and calm were just as real as love, they followed similar principles.

Settling for the artificial source of calm (not that he had any choice), Severus took a Calming Draught and decided that, for Lily's sake, he'd patrol the corridors. Whether or not it had more than a sliver of a possibility of making a difference in Potter's safety, it just felt like the thing to do. Besides, it would keep him occupied, and he was far from being in the mood to read or brew potions, even in his somewhat calmer state.

_I hope Vesperra's having a better time than I am,_ thought Severus as he swept out of his office and back out to the corridors.

* * *

Vesperra knew that her pocketful of Sickles and Knuts (and there might have been a couple Galleons left) must have been considerably lighter than the majority of the other students'. She could have easily depleted her only money even if she was only mild in spending, and that would have left her with nothing for the next Hogsmeade trips… but luckily, she wasn't at all used to buying things very often, so she knew it wouldn't be difficult to restrain herself.

However, she couldn't help but think of the future, when the money she had was gone…. There was no way to make it last from now until she left Hogwarts. Perhaps her mother would find a new job and wouldn't be reluctant to let Vesperra have some to spend on herself. Expecting her mum to be anything but cold to her after what Severus had done would be stupid, though, so she didn't get her hopes up. Well, there was always Severus, and he would indefinitely lend her money if she asked for it…. But she was _not_ going to ask for it. Vesperra couldn't bring herself to ask for any sort of help even if she wanted it—she hadn't even gone to him when she was sick last year, so how could she go to him for something as simple as money?

Her mind returning to the present and deciding to cross that bridge when she came to it, Vesperra now only had to make the choice of where to visit first. Rather than going straight down High Street and visiting the shops in sequential order, she figured it would be best to visit the ones that were the least crowded first, and all the while making sure she was never in the same place as Malfoy. Vesperra didn't necessarily think he'd do anything worse than incessant taunts if he saw her again, but she'd rather avoid that altogether. She didn't his stupid, white-blonde, pointed face showing up and ruining her day even further.

It was difficult to be in an even somewhat bad mood, however, with the chilly wind wafting the various smells from the Hogsmeade shops and the surrounding scenery straight to Vesperra's nose, filling her up with a similar sensation to what the butterbeer did.

She walked past a few shops without bothering to even step inside them for a moment, which were mainly the smaller shops or the ones that only sold things that Vesperra knew she wouldn't even consider purchasing. There was Potage's Cauldron Shop, which she did slow down upon walking past to glance at what was beyond the display windows, but didn't stop completely, since it wasn't as if she would have any brewing to do outside Potions class. As long as she didn't pull some stupid mistake with horribly wrong measurements of ingredients like Longbottom often did, her school cauldron that she had bought in Diagon Alley when she was eleven wouldn't melt and be rendered useless. There was really no need for a larger, more durable cauldron, and especially not one that was solid gold, or one that was big enough for Severus to sit in.

The others that she had passed right by were even less of interest than the cauldron shop. Dogweed and Deathcap was a Herbology store, and many writhing, tentacle-like ferns were visible from outside the display window, as well as bulbous, brightly-colored flowers with poisonous-looking spikes around the petals that Vesperra had not yet seen in the Hogwarts greenhouses. But she hardly paid those any attention, because as well as she did in Herbology, that was simply out of her determination to make sure she did well in everything and not out of any particular fondness for the subject. She really only cared about the properties of certain herbs and plants, as many of them were used in potions, rather than tending to them herself while they were alive.

And Sprintwitches, of course, didn't catch Vesperra's fancy, however much attention it drew with the bright colors of the shop. It was a sporting goods store, mainly focusing on Quidditch, and she hardly cared about Quidditch at all. The most she would do was sit through a game of it, and only if it involved the possibility of Slytherin winning or Gryffindor losing—but she would never play it. Even if she did have any skill, she wouldn't subject herself to possible humiliation. It had been forever since Slytherin even had a girl on their Quidditch team.

The Magic Neep seemed to be mainly for the locals, as it was a greengrocer's, so it was pretty much useless to even glance in its direction. Vesperra wouldn't be getting any food while in Hogsmeade, not while Hogwarts House Elves provided more food than she could ask for, and probably some of the best in the world… well, except sweets. But Honeydukes was definitely the last to visit on her list, as it was indefinitely the most crowded, even more so than the Three Broomsticks.

But the first place she entered was the Hogsmeade Post Office, a tall building with mullioned windows that resembled the Hogwarts Owlery, but it was much, much larger, and definitely more organized. Inside, the floors were clean for the most part, not littered with the skeletons of dead mice and voles or owl droppings or straw. From a table jutting out of the wall all around to ceiling on the entire wall except for the two doors were lined with nesting hole-like boxes with owls either sleeping or staring at the customers with large, round eyes.

There wasn't anyone Vesperra had that she could write to even if she wanted to, but it was interesting to have a look around nevertheless. As she paced slowly around the Post Office, craning her neck to look up at the owls on the walls, she unconsciously let her previously hardened face grow soft with mild interest so that she wouldn't have appeared to be an unpleasant person at all if it weren't for her naturally off-putting nose and greasy hair.

What was particularly interesting to her was the way the post owls were set—from left to right, they ranged in size, gradually going from tiny pygmies to great horned owls, and each were color-coded depending on how far and how fast they could travel. The largest and most expensive of them were guaranteed to take no longer than a weeklong trip to Spain and back, and the smallest, which were like fluffy little tennis balls, twittering madly and bouncing off the edges of their cages, were only for local deliveries.

Even if Vesperra couldn't actually use any of these herself, she appreciated the preciseness of the Post Office and the fact that every detail was accounted for. And there were plenty of school owls she could use if the need ever arose, but it was simply the stark beauty of Hogsmeade so exemplified in here that she liked so much—it was an entirely magical village, where there were witches and wizards that sent their letters by the use of birds whose intelligence was only shown when they were in contact with magical people, rather than a slit in a metal box outside or a slit in the doorway like Muggles did. Just having an owl of her own would make her feel so much more connected with the Wizarding world aside from Severus during the summer….

But there really was no reason for her to have one, and her father would throw a fit. Vesperra wouldn't have to go back home for nearly another year, anyway, so she shouldn't have even been thinking of that.

"Having trouble figuring out which owl would get the distance you need?"

Her idle thoughts were interrupted by a kindly voice behind her; Vesperra spun around on her heel, which was satisfyingly easy on the smooth floors, and she came face to face with one of the Post Office wizards, who wore collared robes and a roguish smile that reminded her too much of Gilderoy Lockhart. He must have noticed her walking around particularly slowly….

She couldn't stop the cold side of her (which was a rather big side) from sneering almost automatically at the man's Lockhart-isms and saying before he could continue, "No, I won't be sending any letters. I'm just looking around." That had come out a bit more snappishly than she intended, and the wizard's smile became one of only strained politeness as he walked away.

At that, Vesperra decided that she'd gotten a good look at pretty much all of the owls and resigned to the fact that she'll have moved out (and possibly in with Severus?) before she got her own owl. Sweeping her gaze once more over the hooting lot of them, she returned to the cold, outside streets. She hadn't realized it while browsing in the Post Office, but now she smelled quite a bit like owl treats. Perhaps she had spent too much time in there.

Hoping to God that neither Malfoy nor Pansy or any of the other Slytherin girls happened upon her and commented on how she now smelled (it wouldn't be unlikely with her luck), she set back out, roaming High Street and the side streets and checking behind her every minute or so.

Vesperra passed Dominic Maestro's, the Hogsmeade music shop, without a second thought, as she had never found much interest in music, partially owing to the fact that she was never introduced to it. If her mother had ever owned a Wizarding Wireless radio, she had never brought it out, or at least never in front of Vesperra. And her father didn't often listen to even Muggle music, so the only thing that she had ever listened to was the occasional commercial jingle from her father's television—and, of course, the school song that Dumbledore had had everyone sing just before bed at the end of her first start-of-term feast at Hogwarts. But she obviously hadn't joined in, and she could hardly consider that music—with everyone singing at a different tune, and the majority of them being unable to sing without risking causing others' eardrums to bleed…

The shop right across the street from Maestro's was Tomes and Scrolls, which, Vesperra was pleased to see, was relatively empty. It was unsurprising in almost a bad way, as it was a bookshop and the fact that less people enjoyed reading (or even knew how to read, if you were referring to people like Crabbe and Goyle) had her disappointed and annoyed with society in general. Then again, it put her at the top of the levels of intelligence, so she couldn't really mind.

When she stepped inside, she did recognize some other Hogwarts students perusing the shelves; most of them were Ravenclaws, except for two near the corner, who were standing with their backs to her and were whispering harshly among themselves. Though she had come in here specifically for the quiet, Vesperra was suddenly wishing they'd speak louder so she could hear what they were saying. Quickly, she made as casual a beeline as possible towards the stretch of shelf-lined wall that was to the left of them, and pretended to be checking the titles on the bindings while she mentally stretched her ears to the spot next to her.

"—we even have to be in here, Hermione? When are you going to realize that you're probably the only person in Hogwarts that reads for fun?" Ron Weasley was saying, who Vesperra had easily recognized by the back of his head, which was covered in vibrantly red hair. It was more easily recognizable, however, because of the head of bushy brown hair right next to him.

"I am _not_ the only one, Ron," whispered Granger without looking at him. "There's plenty of other people in here—"

"Yeah, well, that's because they're nutters, all right? Harry's not going to want a book—I say we leave and head straight to Zonko's—"

"Why waste money junk from Zonko's?" Granger pulled out a few books and flipped through the pages, apparently comparing them. "You know, I think Harry'd like one of these books on Astronomy—you could, too, and that way, even when you're both too lazy to go to the library, you won't need me to write your essays for Professor Sinistra for you." She closed the book as-a-matter-of-factly with a cock of her head. Vesperra couldn't see her face, but she was sure the girl was raising her eyebrows at her ginger friend.

Weasley gave an exasperated sigh, as though this sort of thing happened often. "_Hermione_, those books are too advanced, only you could ever understand them…. And who said we were lazy?" There was a pause in which Vesperra figured Granger must have arched an eyebrow and frowned. "Alright, I'm a bit lazy, but you know I haven't got that much money, so I'm not going to spend half of what's left on _that_—"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't bought extra rounds of butterbeer just so you could spend more time at the Three Broomsticks mentally undressing Madam Rosmerta, Ron…" said Granger, the jealousy obvious in her voice. The back of Weasley's neck and his ears turned the same color as his hair.

"Whatever," said Weasley. "But if you're going to get him a book at all, why don't you at least get him a Quidditch book or something that he'd actually _like_? Actually—no, I forgot, I already did that last Christmas…."

"You don't know he wouldn't like it," snapped Granger. "_I_ think he'd be glad if I made it easier for him to do his homework—and you don't have to buy anything, Ron, you can just share with him—"

"Hermione, you may be smart when it comes to books, but you've got a lot else to learn… like how not everyone cares as much about homework as you do! Harry and I are perfectly fine just letting you look over our essays and correcting them!"

At this point Vesperra stopped listening, deciding that it could only go downhill from here and that nothing in the rest of Granger and Weasley's conversation would hint to her why the missing person to their usual trio—Potter—couldn't go to Hogsmeade. _Merlin, they bicker like a married couple…_ thought Vesperra, annoyed, as she closed the book she had taken to pretending to read to hide that she'd been eavesdropping. To get away from the ginger and the know-it-all, she stepped away and started running her fingers along the spines of other books.

Tomes and Scrolls was somewhat unlike the Hogwarts library, mostly in that it wasn't anywhere near as high-ceilinged, and there was no vulture-like woman prowling the aisles of shelves and breathing down the necks of anyone who dared touch the books. It was also different in that the majority of the books were relatively new, rather than hundreds of years old with faded binding like half the books in Hogwarts. Not much in there was quite as new as the books in Flourish and Blotts, nor were the covers as brightly colored, but the older books at least looked refurbished and restored.

However, the books were mainly history and spellbooks, as Vesperra didn't see many novels. That didn't make them any less desirable, though (at least not to her). She was glued to an old Potions tome for several minutes before being distracted by the loud whisper of "Fine, then, I won't get it, and we can go get some pranks from Zonko's that are less fun than they're worth!" and Granger marching purposely out of the shop, followed by a disgruntled Ron Weasley that looked desperate to apologize for whatever he had said.

After the shop door swung a few times back and forth on its arc and finally closed with a loud click, Vesperra sighed and shut the book she was holding, knowing that she was likely as financially impaired as Weasley if not worse, and that she wasn't going to buy anything as much as she'd like to. But then, she wondered why she had even come in here, because any sort of books she wanted could easily be accessed through the Room of Requirement; and once again, it was the same general reason as it was for the Post Office—the stark beauty of Hogsmeade. The Room of Requirement was extremely useful, but it could be visited everyday opposed to about three times a year.

Judging by the light outside, the sun had already begun descending from its high peak, which meant that Vesperra's time to go everywhere in Hogsmeade that she wanted to was half up, and there were still plenty of places to go. So she slid the tome back onto its wooden shelf, followed in the distant wake of Weasley and Granger towards the door, and pushed it open without stopping.

As soon as she stepped outside, she stopped, for she saw Malfoy's profile across the street, walking with Pansy Parkinson clinging onto the elbow that wasn't bandaged. Rather than immediately ducking down, as she'd have liked to despite how stupid of an idea that was, she simply turned away from them and walked slowly in the opposite direction so they wouldn't be likely to notice her. When she turned back around twenty seconds later, Pansy was pointing to the window display in Gladrags, which featured a set of bright pink, excessively layered and frilly robes and laughing so hard that she was shaking. Malfoy gave her sort of an annoyed smile and pulled her into Zonko's. Merlin, that couldn't be good…

_But wait,_ Vesperra thought, _Malfoy's sense of humor must be far sicker than the harmless pranks in Zonko's…. If he wanted to use anything on me, it wouldn't be anything he got in there. _That wasn't necessarily a comforting thought, but at least they were inside the other shop and no longer had a chance of seeing her. Even if they did, they weren't going to run straight out of Zonko's and start tailing her; clearly, they were on some sort of date. Or rather, Pansy had probably found him and decided that they should spend the rest of the visit together and Malfoy obliged to any sort of attention, from a girl or otherwise.

Vesperra walked back again past the Post Office, mostly convinced that she was safe for the moment, and decided to check out some of the other side streets, whose shops weren't likely to be as crowded. She passed Zonko's with slight trepidation, since Malfoy was in there, and rounded the corner to the left of Gladrags, which she was definitely not entering anytime soon. It was a shop entirely of clothes, and most prominently very eccentric ones. As Vesperra wasn't one to care about her own appearance or what she was wearing as long as she wasn't walking around starkers, she had no use for anything in there. Her school robes and few sets of shirts were enough.

Jutting out on the corner where High Street and Elm Road met was Scrivenshaft's, a small, time-worn shop that apparently sold all sorts of quills. Interested and glad to see that this shop was mostly empty, Vesperra stepped inside. Weasley and Granger weren't here this time, so there wasn't any hissing or whispering to punctuate the silence, but instead the occasional scratching of quills on parchment to test them out, a sound that Vesperra liked.

This was another one of those places where she knew she wasn't going to buy anything, since she already had quills and none of them had broken and she didn't want to waste money, and because she didn't think she'd have any use for the ones with special properties, but she simply wanted to have a look around at them.

There were quills of all sizes and all different types of feathers—Raven, Eagle, Emu, several tropical birds… even Peacock, and those were among the most expensive. Some had differently styled tips that were better suited to different types of writing, and some were different sizes depending on the size of the person using them. It was definitely a much wider selection than Scribbulus's, the stationary shop in Diagon Alley.

Almost disappointed that there hadn't been anything in particular that she'd have liked to buy there, she set off for the rest of the small side street to see what there was. Unfortunately, the only other two shops on that street were a hairdressing salon (Vesperra was sure Pansy would have shouted across the street that she ought to go in there if the girl had had the chance) and, next to that, possibly the worst place in Hogsmeade.

Vesperra stopped, aghast at the small tea shop called Madam Puddifoot's. It was a tackily decorated place with lace-like edges on the outside signs… and pink. _So much pink. _The windows were steamed up, but at a relatively close distance, she had a mercilessly clear view of the obviously happy couples sitting inside, either smiling like idiots at each other or snogging. _Have some bloody decency, dammit,_ she thought disgustedly, turning away from the radiating happiness and love of Madam Puddifoot's. _And don't snog in public._

Part of her simply wanted to get away from the awful sight, and the other part was looking out for her well-being, and wanted to get as far away from that place as possible before Malfoy and Pansy found her near it. And there was also the fact that the shadows of the buildings and street signs were dipping further and further to the right, meaning that she'd do best to hurry up and visit the main spots of interest before the majority of her fellow students started heading back to Hogwarts, and save the few smaller ones she hadn't yet been to for the next trip.

Walking more quickly than she had been, Vesperra passed the intersection to the side street that held the Hog's Head and went directly to the end of High Street, where Dervish and Banges, one of the largest shops, resided. Inside were a multitude of magical instruments, many of them metal, and either buzzing, flying in circles by themselves, or puffing up smoke. It reminded her somewhat of Dumbledore's office.

It was difficult not to stay too long and examine everything in there, and she might have bought a Sneakoscope if they all hadn't started spinning when she walked near the display table. The shop owner assured her that they weren't defective, and that it must have been that she had done something untrustworthy very recently, but she knew that if she owned one, it would be spinning all the time, for she was a generally secretive and untrustworthy person. Ironically, the only person that mattered to her was the only person that could trust her, and otherwise, no one would even think about trusting her with a secret—not for fear that she would tell it, but that she would use it against them. Then again, Theodore Nott had trusted her with not telling anyone about the things he supposedly saw pulling the carriages…. But that was one thing. That didn't really matter.

When Vesperra had moved away from the Sneakoscopes and the blasted things stopped spinning, she only took a minute to look at a set of complicated watches with many sets of hands and layers of moons that were very similar to the one she noticed Dumbledore wore before heading out again, now even more anxious to spend her dwindling time wisely.

Luckily, she realized, out of the high points of High Street there were only two shops left, and one of them she could completely ignore; as popular as Zonko's was, it wasn't her kind of place. Stupid pranks weren't amusing to her, nor were any of the other things like fireworks (she still remembered the one that Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had used to destroy her book in her first year, and the one that Potter had presumably used to disrupt Potions class and splash Swelling Solution everywhere in her second).

No, her sense of humor was one that most people would call rather sick, and if she wished ill upon anyone, she knew much more effective ways to hurt them than with pranks. None of the childish toys that she knew were in Zonko's (only from once glancing at the extensive list of banned products tacked onto Filch's office door) would be of any use to her, and so she went straight to Honeydukes, feeling that she had successfully implemented the famous quote and saved the best for last. Well, the best in most students' opinions, at least.

Waiting until now to go inside Honeydukes hadn't made much of a difference as to how packed with children and adults alike it was, but Vesperra was sure there were slightly less people than before. Purposely looking around at the walls and aisles of candy, she avoided looking at any of the people in case anyone that knew her was in here, since 'knowing' her was almost always interchangeable with 'hating' her. Although, most people wouldn't have many dark things on their minds while in a place like this, not even Malfoy.

With each of the walls surrounding her having candies hanging all over them, many of which were brightly colored, Vesperra felt out of place. The atmosphere in there was so cheerful, so unlike her, and yet she didn't even think of stepping out…. And the reason for that was simple—what child didn't enjoy sweets? Especially her, who had grown up deprived of the magical world despite having a pureblood mother, and hardly ever getting any sweets, Muggle or otherwise…. Meals at Hogwarts, where the golden platters kept refilling with food until they were full, and Chocolate Frogs from the Hogwarts Express were all she had ever had as far as magical food went.

So she walked along the aisles, looking a great deal less enthusiastic than most of the other students in here, who were gamboling about and pressing their faces to the enormous glass jars of Exploding bonbons, smiling widely as they gathered all the sweets they could carry without a second thought as to how much it would cost them—Vesperra was, admittedly, a bit more eager than she let on. She was definitely not smiling, but she wasn't quite scowling, either, and her lips even twitched into a near smirk at some of the things she came across.

Along one wall were shelves upon shelves of nougat and toffees and large, pink squares of coconut ice that looked rather like granite, and at first Vesperra was tempted to buy one of everything without even having properly looked at everything else (except the coconut, she hated coconut), but then she moved her gaze to just below eye level, and saw that the three lowest shelves were stacked with hundreds of different kinds of chocolate. If it weren't for the first year that had bumped into her just then, she might have forgotten that she was surrounded by people.

Vesperra had so far kept herself from spending any money besides the two Sickles on that butterbeer, and she felt that she deserved to spend a little more money on herself. A manic gleam appeared in her eye as she grabbed a Honeydukes bag from where they were hanging so harshly that she nearly ripped it, and made the difficult decision of which of the hundreds of types of chocolate to buy. Firstly, she narrowed it down to anything that didn't have nuts, peanut butter, coconut, or a fruity flavor, then indulged on most of the free samples, and then tried to choose from there.

Several stacked boxes near the left edge of the rows caught her attention, which were pinstriped with green and brown, and the shiny gold lettering gleamed as much as the manic glint she had: _Chocolate Cauldrons_—and under that, _with mild dosage of Firewhiskey_. The golden letters didn't have to gleam at her twice—she grabbed a box and stuffed it into her bag, and continued looking.

With difficulty, she detached herself from the chocolate after having also chosen a block of treacle fudge, and moved along. Vesperra had apparently been so immersed in the chocolate that she was almost surprised to see once again that there was more to the shop.

An entire wall was devoted to "Special Effects" sweets, which Vesperra was more interested in just knowing what they did than actually buying or eating them. Some of them, actually, seemed rather stupid to her…. Droobles Best Blowing Gum, according to the jar that held it, could create several blue, large, thick bubbles, that wouldn't pop for days, even with the administering of sharp objects. The only benefit Vesperra could see in that was blowing some near Pansy Parkinson and watching the girl's reaction as it got stuck in her hair.

Peppermint toads didn't seem so bad until she realized that they were _not_ essentially the same thing as Chocolate Frogs as she thought they might have been, and that they would actually feel as though they would hop around in your stomach. The thought of it made Vesperra feel slightly sick, and she could only imagine how unpleasant that would feel.

There were Ice Mice, which would cause your teeth to chatter and squeak, and Vesperra left those alone for the reason they were merely ice-flavored, and also that she always hated it when it was so cold that her teeth chattered. Once again, she wondered why anyone would buy a candy that had such an unpleasant feeling. Pepper Imps, the polar opposite of those, didn't seem too bad, though…. They'd be terribly spicy, but being able to breathe fire for a limited amount of time sounded cool when she thought about it. However, Vesperra didn't end up buying any of those or any of the other "Special Effects" sweets, finding that they crossed the line of childishness and that it would be extremely odd for anyone to see her eating something like that, anyway.

Her eyes flashed maliciously at a jar of Acid Pops as she continued to walk around, wondering if she could manage to give one of those to Malfoy without him realizing what it was. But he'd have likely already been in here, so he would have already seen them…. How could anyone possibly eat one of those voluntarily, though, when it would probably burn a hole right through your tongue?

Many jars and shelves later, in which she had chosen a few harmless sweets from, she came to the farthest corner in the shop, where a sign hung from the ceiling: _Unusual Tastes_. It was more than likely the emptiest part of the shop, and Vesperra could see why; There weren't many shelves, but instead a table smaller than all the others in Honeydukes, which had trays and jars of things like Cockroach Clusters, some candy bars that seemed to be fish-flavored, and Blood-flavored lollipops. She vaguely wondered why the barrel of Every Flavor Beans wasn't over here, and picked up the tray of the dark red Blood Pops.

None of the other unusual sweets were at all desirable, but she found herself strangely interested in those. During her childhood of often getting cut and developing a habit of licking it rather than doing anything else to stop the blood flow or make it stop hurting, she had learned that blood really didn't taste that bad.

So, knowing full well that if she was seen buying any of these (especially by Thomas or Finnigan) it would only encourage and worsen the jokes about her being a vampire, she grabbed five and dropped them into her bag, which was considerably less full than most of the others' in there, even though they weren't even done filling up their bags yet. Vesperra ignored the sudden, tiny wish that she wasn't so poor, and made to purchase her sweets.

After giving the middle-aged Mrs. Flume five Sickles and one Knut, she reluctantly left Honeydukes and started back down High Street, following in the wake of many other students who all looked as though they had the time of their lives but were dispirited for the moment at having to leave. From shops all around, students were coming out, some alone, some linking arms with a couple of friends, and some holding hands with their boyfriends or girlfriends the same way Vesperra always held Severus's hand, and either frowning down at their watch or looking up at the sliver of gold between the clouds in the sky. There was a general air—and she was sure everyone else could feel it too—of the day being over and the fun ending.

The fun hadn't necessarily ended, though, because, along High Street, Vesperra could see and hear other students catching up with their friends, laden with bulging Honeydukes and Zonko's bags or else carrying their half-drunk bottles of butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks (she highly doubted anyone else would have gone to the Hog's Head), and laughing. Amongst the enthusiastic, and yet worn-out chatter of those that had left the stone streets and were now strolling once again on the trail back to Hogwarts were a few clear sentences that Vesperra could pick out:

"Did you see Salma Fawcett running out from Madam Puddifoot's today? I think Roger Davies broke up with her—Wait a second, that means he's free…"

"Damn, I spent too much time in the Three Broomsticks… I didn't even get to visit the Shrieking Shack!"

"Hey—check out what I got from Zonko's—reckon I'll be able to set off some dungbombs in Filch's office and blame it on Peeves?"

Apparently, Vesperra hadn't been the only one of the crowd that had heard that person, because nearby a voice that sounded like one of the Weasley twin's said, "Amateur…"

As the whole of Hogwarts meandered down the trail (assuming no one had been left behind), Vesperra felt strangely lighthearted. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with the sense of having fun—she had been introduced to that when she first started actually spending time with Severus… but it felt strange to think that it was possible for her to have fun without Severus—and not sardonic fun, either. Vesperra almost felt as though she was betraying him in a way, like she wasn't supposed to be genuinely happy unless it was because of him. And something—she didn't know what, but something in her made her not want to have fun that wasn't because of Severus.

Was it that she was just too used to being generally annoyed and angry anytime she wasn't with him, and didn't like the sudden change? Or was it because part of her twisted idea of love, which she'd only recently realized she felt towards him, included the fact that you weren't allowed to enjoy anything but the person you loved? Or, possibly… could it have been because one of the things she loved about Severus was that he was the _only_ thing that could make her smile, calm her down after she'd been angry all day, or cause warmth to blossom in her chest and make her feel as happy as all the normal people were, and she thought that, if anything else could ease her usually permanent scowl, she didn't love him enough?

_No—of course I love him enough,_ Vesperra reasoned with herself, only vaguely paying attention to where she was walking. _I love him _more_ than enough…. And—and this can't be genuine happiness—it's not the way Severus makes me feel at all… No, it's just a bit of fun, wasn't it? I don't think I even smiled the whole time… besides, I enjoyed myself in Knockturn Alley too, and Severus couldn't have come here, anyway…. And it's not like a _person_ made me happy, it was just Hogsmeade… just shops…_

Figuring that she had merely had an irrational thought that didn't deserve to be dealt with anymore, Vesperra stopped thinking about that and sighed inwardly. The sun seemed to be sinking beyond the mountains at the same rate she was walking, so it would make perfect timing and leave the grounds dark just as the last of the students made it back through the oak doors. It was actually quite nice, walking down the wide dirt trail in the late afternoon, the sun not necessarily shining, but sending a misty look out over the distant grounds so that it seemed calmer than ever. If there was a possibility that they could be alone and unspotted, she'd have liked to walk with Severus out her at this time. But the Hogwarts gates were in the distance, and Vesperra could see two dark figures hovering above it….

During the time before she'd have to pass the dementors again, she rummaged in her bag of sweets so she could eat and have that to keep her mind off of them. She was compelled to try a Blood Pop first, since it was the only thing in there that she wasn't yet sure she'd like. Fishing one out while holding the bag in one hand, Vesperra ripped off the clear wrapping around the edible part with her teeth and, once she had the bag lifted up to be held momentarily in between her upper arm and chest, she pulled it out of her teeth and tossed it back in the bag, not wanting to leave rubbish on the trail.

Haphazardly, she shoved the whole thing into her mouth rather than taking a tentative lick first, and it was a few seconds before she had tasted it properly and decided that she liked it. It was accurate in its taste, having the metallic, salty taste that blood had…. In a large quantity, which was mostly unlike licking a small cut, it had the same tingle when it was on your tongue and either felt thickly unpleasant or unconventionally satisfying going down your throat over and over again, depending on who you were. It was also quite different in that it was more or less blood in the form of a lollipop, rather than a straight liquid…. Although, she wasn't sure whether it was actual blood, or of whether or not it would congeal if left out for a while….

That lasted her some ways past the Dementors (at which she had done the same thing as before), and by the time it was simply a white stick with a bit of red left on it, she was sure that the entire inside of her mouth was dark red, and it would have looked to anyone as though she really _was_ a vampire and had just had a nice feast. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robes in case there was any blood (or whatever it was) dripping down, and didn't eat any of the rest of her candy, since there would be the Halloween feast later and it would have plenty of puddings at the end.

Malfoy, luckily, didn't bother her on the way back (nor did anyone else), and it wasn't until after Vesperra had gone down to her dorm to drop off her bag of sweets and returned to the Great Hall for the feast that the taunting she was used to resumed—and even then, it wasn't as horrible as usual. Comments about her were made in between mouthfuls of food and the talk of everyone else's time in Hogsmeade, and they were all things like, "Disappointed you couldn't find a good present for Snape, Grease-perra?" and "I expect your mood killed most of the flowers on the sidewalk…" and the indirect mutterings of "Is it me, or is her mouth _really_ red?"

The decorations were as usual, with the hundreds of live bats swooping sometimes very low over the House tables and the candle-filled pumpkins emitting an orange glow as they hovered in the Great Hall, and there were also many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily through the air, almost slithering…. There was the general air of eeriness mingled with cheerfulness in the way that it was supposed to be on Halloween, and Vesperra found herself less annoyed at that than usual.

The food was too delicious to eat less than at least two helpings of, and a lot of the insults and taunts from Malfoy and the others came across thickly due to their mouths still being full of food. Once or twice Vesperra chanced a glance up at the Staff Table, where Severus was eating without looking up, his face looking quite distant except for when his eyes seemed to flicker down the table towards Lupin. She wondered what he had done while she was in Hogsmeade, and whether or not he was angry about something. If he was, it was likely because of Lupin or Potter, she figured…. Well, she supposed she'd find out after the feast. But she couldn't help but continue to feel bad that he couldn't have had near as good a time as her.

Before the feast ended, most of the Hogwarts ghosts participated in some formation gliding through the walls and floors for an entertainment. Vesperra wasn't very entertained, however, mostly because the Bloody Baron flew directly through her from the floor up, and having a ghost fly through you is never a good sensation. Especially not when it's prolonged.

Nevertheless, when Vesperra left the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherins in the direction of the dungeons after the feast, while Malfoy yelled "The dementors send their love, Potter!" towards the Gryffindor table, she felt that this had been by far the best Halloween she'd had yet.

* * *

Potter was still alive when the feast began, but Severus wasn't any less suspicious of Lupin. Perhaps he was merely in a sulky and distrustful mood from not having seen Vesperra since breakfast, but he enjoyed the feast even less than he had the rest of the years that he'd taught at Hogwarts. Of course, that wasn't counting the things that had happened both of the last two Halloweens that had begun Severus and Vesperra's stress for those two years.

His eyes flicked repeatedly to Lupin, who seemed rather cheerful and was having an animated conversation with Flitwick, as he ate, and he wondered if there was a reason the man was so happy…. And a few times, Severus looked at Vesperra, who appeared slightly less annoyed than usual. He assumed she must have had a good time in Hogsmeade, then. A tiny part of him wondered whether she had ignored what he had said a few days before and had actually gone and bought him something. He hoped she hadn't.

When the feast finally ended, Severus was relieved. Dumbledore left the staffroom directly afterwards, as he often did, for a Headmaster's duties were never done. Hardly a minute later, Severus, McGonagall, and Lupin seemed to have thought the same thing at the same time, because they all left in succession out of the staffroom door. McGonagall and Lupin made to go in the direction of the stairs, and Severus to the dungeons, but one of the gargoyles that stood outside the entrance stopped them.

"Oi—you three—Dumbledore went marching up to Gryffindor tower. A portrait told him that the Fat Lady's portrait has been nearly destroyed. He'll want you up there with him…"

The gargoyle's words were lost into the distance as the three teachers headed directly to the staircases without hesitation. They were walking so fast that they were almost running, trying to catch up with Dumbledore, who couldn't have been too far ahead of them….

So… the Fat Lady's portrait was nearly destroyed… Of course it had been too good to be true. This was not going to be a perfectly normal Halloween, no…. Severus momentarily forgot his hatred for the man walking next to him as he strained his mind to think of what could possibly have happened, because _something_ bad had to have happened…. And with his luck, it'll have had something to do with Potter.

His stomach writhed with anxiety and his heart couldn't decide whether to pound very hard or not to pound at all, though Severus was trying to keep it under control until he actually made it there and found out what happened.

After a few minutes, they were in the corridor whose end was the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, with Dumbledore a ways ahead of them and heading towards the large crowd of students standing, confused, in front of it. Gryffindors squeezed together or moved aside to let Dumbledore through, and Severus, McGonagall, and Lupin hurried towards him and inside the gap made by the students so they could see it as well.

Out of breath, Severus stared at the portrait, which was now void of the Fat Lady and looked as though it had been slashed by a knife or sword. The floor in front of it was littered with strips and chunks of the canvas. This brought him a great deal of concern completely separate from his animosity towards Gryffindor house—none of the Hogwarts paintings had ever been purposely destroyed, as far as written history told them. Who could have wanted to get into the Gryffindor Common Room that badly?

Dumbledore turned around, looking very grave, and said immediately, "We need to find her. Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the world for the Fat Lady."

Her lips as tight as they could go, McGonagall gave a small nod and started to turn around; she stopped, however, at the sound of the cackling voice of the school poltergeist, Peeves, who everyone looked up at when he spoke.

"You'll be lucky!" he laughed, looking delighted as he bobbed above the crowd of Gryffindors.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, his grave expression now with a hint of confusion. Peeves's grin faded a little, likely out of respect for Dumbledore, and he rounded up to hover in a normal standing position.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir," said Peeves, now using an oily voice. "Don't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful…. Poor thing," he finished happily.

The entire corridor was utterly silent except for Dumbledore saying quietly, "Did she say who did it?"

"Oh yes, Professorhead. He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Severus's heart dropped at that instant, as he suddenly expected the worst and felt sure it was about to be confirmed, and Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Several students gasped, suddenly wide-eyed; others stayed silent, the color leaving their faces. McGonagall took this as even more of a reason to get to Filch as soon as possible and left, but Severus did not turn around to see her expression. Instead, he had glanced at Potter, who wasn't difficult to spot in the crowd, since he was up front near the ruined portrait.

For the first time, Severus felt no anger towards the boy, for he had done nothing to put himself in danger this time. The fact that Sirius Black, who wanted to kill him, had somehow gotten into the castle, was not caused at all by Potter being reckless or stupid. Severus was feeling a torrent of things, and at that second, mixed along with the confusion and the monumental hatred for Black was relief that Potter was alive. Sirius Black had been in the castle… or was still in the castle… and if he had come any other day, he might have made it to Potter and _killed_ him….

As expected, Dumbledore took immediate action, and Severus was ready to take the old man's instructions.

"Professor Lupin," he said calmly yet urgently, "please escort the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, and wait there until I return." He turned to Severus as Lupin, looking even sicker than he had been before taking the Wolfsbane Potion, heeded instructions and made sure that every Gryffindor knew to follow him. "Severus, go down to the dungeons and bring the Slytherins up to the Great Hall. I will alert the other Heads and the rest of the staff."

Giving a sharp nod, Severus strode out of the corridor with Dumbledore, and the two went their separate ways when they came to the end. Severus took his wand out for his own safety, and was getting progressively angrier and more confused as he walked very briskly down to the dungeons. It just didn't make any sense… and yet, he felt he shouldn't have been surprised. Of course this sort of thing had to happen _today_, on Lily's deathday…. The one day that Severus felt more compelled to protect Potter than any other day was the one where the boy's life was really put in danger. And this was much worse than the troll or the Chamber—there was a murderer in the castle, the same murderer that had betrayed Lily to Voldemort and gotten her killed…

Suddenly, an insane desire burned within him, fueled by loathing both for Black and for himself. He wanted so very badly to do all that he could to make sure that Lily had not died in vain, to get revenge on that bastard, to give the worst of all punishments to the man that had made both his life as a child and as an adult pure hell… Severus, mad as it might be, hoped Black would find him. That would make it a hell of a lot easier to kill him.

But he did not find the man in a span of two and a half minutes, and it was with difficultly forced calm that he gave the blank stretch of stone wall the password and entered the Slytherin Common Room. It felt horribly similar to what he had felt last year, when Ginny Weasley had been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets and he had had to tell all the Slytherins to go pack their things. At least this time, Hogwarts wasn't going to be closed.

The few students that were still in the very nearly empty Common Room were clearly surprised when Severus walked in, and all stared at him.

"Professor Snape—"

"Rouse everyone that's in their dormitories, you four," he told them. "I need to escort all of you back to the Great Hall.

No less expected, they seemed extremely confused, and the seventh year boy who had spoken to him first said, "W—?"

"Sirius Black has broken into the castle," he snapped. Seeing the word forming on the boy's lips, he said impatiently, "Don't ask me how, just hurry and wake everyone up!"

They hastened to obey him then, but they weren't any less confused. Feeling like every second he stood there was a second wasted that could be used searching for Black despite knowing that he had to ensure the students' safety first, Severus waited for the Common Room to fill with every last Slytherin.

* * *

As tired as Vesperra was, she willed herself to stay awake so that Severus could talk to her when he got back to his own room. All was calm until the door to her dorm suddenly opened, and both Vesperra and Millicent threw back their bed hangings.

"Hurry up," said the girl who had opened the door urgently, "and get to the Common Room. Professor Snape wants us there." She then ran out, leaving the door open, presumably to do the same to all the other girl's dormitories.

Millicent's mouth hung open for a moment, and she gave Vesperra a look of confusion, probably expecting her to look back. Vesperra, however, did not wait a single moment, and scrambled to get off her bed and down the stone corridor that led to the Common Room. If Severus was here, then something bad must have happened….

The corridor was, for the first time Vesperra had seen it, very crowded. Girls were in their nightgowns, pushing past each other, all looking just as confused as she was. Voices were jumbled together, all trying to figure out what was going on.

"Why are we—?"

"What's Professor Snape—?"

"—got to go back to the Great Hall—"

"—Sirius Black!"

At the various whispers and frightened mutterings of 'Sirius Black,' Vesperra's face hardened. She was suddenly very angry and scared amidst the confusion, and she couldn't even imagine what Severus would be feeling at the moment. She almost didn't want to know.

When everyone was in the Common Room, Severus didn't hesitate. "Is anyone still in their dorm?"

"No," said two people at once, both of whom had been in the Common Room when he first arrived. "We got everyone out, sir."

"Good. Then follow me, I've got to take you all to the Great Hall," said Severus. His eyes swept the crowd quickly for Vesperra, who was looking straight at him, paler than usual. Regretting that he didn't have a chance to speak to her, he turned around and threw the door open, leaving to the dungeons once more. He occasionally looked back to make sure everyone was staying close together, and to catch a glimpse of Vesperra's face. Almost more than anything, he was worried for her safety at the moment; Potter's safety only broke the tie because he was in much more danger of being murdered.

"Is it true that Sirius Black's in the castle?" said Malfoy, who was near the front of the group of Slytherins. There was a nervous murmur of assent, though everyone already seemed sure of the answer.

"Yes," growled Severus. "And before you ask, no one yet knows how."

They passed through the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall, where the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and some of the teachers including Dumbledore were already waiting. The Ravenclaws joined them a minute later, led by Professor Flitwick.

Severus left the students to go to Dumbledore, who was delegating different parts of the castle to be searched to different members of the staff. He watched the back of Lupin's head as the man left the Great Hall, now with a much better reason to be suspicious of him than he had been earlier that day.

After being given the job of being second-in-command as far as the search went, Severus left with Professor Sprout to search the castle.

* * *

Vesperra watched Severus leave, half-hoping that he'd find Black himself, since she knew how much that meant to him, and the other half hoping that another teacher would do it, because she was afraid for him. And she was afraid for herself. But mostly, she was angry at herself for thinking that nothing was going to go wrong this Halloween, and dreading what was to come if Black wasn't caught tonight….

Soon after Severus was gone, Dumbledore walked to the end of the hall and coughed significantly. "The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," he said to everyone. "I'm afraid that, for your safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy Weasley, the Head Boy. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick finished closing all the doors into the Great Hall but for one, and Dumbledore started towards the one that was open, but paused. "Oh yes," he said, "you'll be needing…"

He waved his wand and the four House tables flew to stand themselves against the walls, and when he waved it again, the floor was covered with about three hundred squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," said Dumbledore, leaving and closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly, completely unlike the dread that Vesperra figured everyone would be feeling. She grabbed a sleeping bag and dragged it well away from the rest of the Slytherins to a spot that was mostly empty for a five-foot radius at the moment, then climbed into it, still fully dressed except for her shoes, which she had kicked off in her dorm, and her House tie, which she had loosened and taken off as well. It seemed that she was one of the only non-Gryffindors that wasn't in pajamas.

Not tired in the least, Vesperra laid on her stomach and rested her chin in her folded arms. From those around her, she could hear the story of what had happened going around. Apparently, Black had tried to get into Gryffindor Tower, but without the password, the Fat Lady wouldn't let him in. He had slashed her painting and she was now hiding, as was Black.

_He must have thought he could find Potter in there,_ thought Vesperra. Severus hadn't directly told her that Black was after Potter, but he might as well have. If Black had served Voldemort secretly, and had lost everything when Voldemort tried to kill Potter as a baby, there was no doubt he wanted to kill Potter now. Why else would he have tried to get into Gryffindor Tower, anyway? _Dammit, why couldn't he have come another night? Then he could have killed Potter and been done with it…_

But she immediately revoked that thought, because then Black would start seeking out his master and try to return him to power, and that was the last thing Vesperra wanted.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Head Boy Weasley over the conversations. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Vesperra didn't necessarily mind the whispering around her, because it wasn't as though she'd be able to fall asleep anytime soon. At least it gave her a chance to hear other people's theories as to how Black got in, and it kept her mind busy. None of them, though, had any plausible theories. She knew that all sorts of enchantments protected Hogwarts, and then there were the dementors… Someone had to have helped him. And Vesperra was sure she suspected the same person Severus did—the werewolf who was friends with that murderer as a child.

"The lights are going out now!" Weasley shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

All at once, the candles went out, and the Great Hall was almost completely dark except for the light from the ghosts, who were drifting about, talking to prefects, and the starlight from the enchanted ceiling. Whispering still filled the hall, but people stopped whenever Weasley walked by and pretended to be asleep. Everyone else was clearly just as likely to fall asleep as Vesperra.

Once every hour, a teacher would walk in to check that everything was quiet. As much as Vesperra liked rules and order, she thought it was rather stupid that they should be kept from talking when no one was going to fall asleep anytime soon, anyway. But she liked it quiet like this, so she wasn't complaining.

Her dread kept her up for what felt like the longest time, simply staring up at the ceiling or laying on her side and listening to others whisper. Around three in the morning, when many students had finally fallen asleep, Dumbledore walked in and crossed the room to get to Weasley. Vesperra couldn't hear what he was saying to the Head Boy, since they were all the way across the hall, but she watched anyway. Minutes later, another one of the Hall doors opened, and—her heart did a tiny leap—it was Severus.

* * *

The search was fruitless. Severus did all that he could, checking even the Room of Requirement (in case Black knew about it) and the secret passageway in the dungeons. It was three in the morning before he returned to the Great Hall, angry that he had missed his chance, yet resigned to the fact that Black was no longer in the castle.

When he pushed open the door to the Great Hall and walked in, Dumbledore was in there, and speaking to Percy Weasley. Severus's footsteps echoed through the silent hall as he walked over to them.

"Headmaster?" said Severus as Dumbledore turned his grave face to him. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What about the Astronomy Tower?" said Dumbledore. "Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched…"

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" asked Severus evenly, hoping both to see what Dumbledore's mind could come up with that his hadn't, and to make him see that he made a horrible mistake hiring Lupin.

"Many, Severus, each of them unlikely as the next," Dumbledore replied, appearing to have guessed what was on Severus's mind and to be avoiding it. Weasley was staring at them with rapt attention so that Severus was even more annoyed.

His expression one of controlled anger, Severus continued quietly, "You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before—ah—the start of term?" He would have spoken more plainly, directly telling the old man that he needed to believe his suspicions, but Weasley was only feet away. So he barely opened his lips and inched away from him and closer to Dumbledore, hoping to block Weasley out of it and that the boy would get the hint.

"I do, Severus," said Dumbledore with clear warning in his voice. His eyes weren't twinkling now, but were hard-set.

"It seems—almost impossible—that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed—"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," said Dumbledore with an end-of-discussion tone. Severus didn't reply or even open his mouth again, but he was raging against Dumbledore in his mind. "I must go down to the dementors," he continued. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" said Weasley.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore with a colder voice than Severus had ever heard him use. "But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Without another word, Dumbledore left the Great Hall quickly and quietly. Severus stared at him with deep resentment (his expression was nothing compared to what he was feeling, though) as he did. How could the man be so foolish? He trusted too easily… Why couldn't he spare a second thought for the possibility that Lupin might not be the man Dumbledore thought he was? He was a _werewolf_, after all….

Vesperra didn't hear what Severus had said to Dumbledore, but from where she was laying, she could see his profile, which was quite angry. He turned abruptly and his robes billowed out behind him as he walked towards the exit that would lead to the shortest way to the dungeons; to do so, he had to pass right by her, and she seized her chance.

As he neared the door on his way out, Severus suddenly felt something tugging on the hem of his robes and looked down in alarm. He was relieved to see that it was Vesperra, who was laying on her side, but at the same time trying to look up at him. For a moment, he thought she must be mad for trying to talk to him here and now, but one glance around told him that everyone around her was apparently asleep, and no Slytherins were near.

Letting go of his robes as he looked down, Vesperra mouthed, breathing the words very slightly, "Did you find him?"

Severus shook his head, frowning. He inconspicuously—in case anyone was still awake and looking—patted his ribcage, where Vesperra knew he kept his journal in his robes, and mouthed, "Tell you tomorrow. Go to sleep."

"Night," she mouthed, wishing she could talk to him more right now.

"Night." He resisted the urge to bend down and kiss her forehead or caress her face briefly as he'd have done if the circumstances were different, and continued out the doors.

Once the door creaked shut and Severus was no longer in sight, Vesperra relaxed and found a comfortable position to lie in. She rested her head in her arms and, mentally exhausted, actually tried to fall asleep.

* * *

**I've been waiting a long time to write this chapter... There's so much Snape in _Prisoner of Azkaban_ that a lot of the chapters in Book 3 will be based on canon events. And... I might have gotten carried away with Vesperra's time in Hogsmeade. But whatever. I want to go to Honeydukes _so freaking bad..._ Oh, and I hope no one found the Blood Pop thing too creepy.**

**I suppose you guys will have a lot of things to say, and a lot of things to theorize about... so PLEASE review! And draw fan art if you want too... because that would be awesome!**


	37. Book 3: Chapter 9

**Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! I have to say, though, I've missed _Matara_ and UltimateBetrayal's reviews the past few weeks. I hope they read and review soon. Also, I'm sorry I haven't posted anything new on DeviantArt lately. But I haven't had much time lately, because for me, all my time is school, homework, and writing this story. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Despite most of the school having gotten about five hours of sleep or less (and not very good sleep, either), no kindness was extended by the teachers and classes were slated to take place as usual, not even a minute later. All the students who were sleeping on the floor in the squashy sleeping bags (which was everyone but the prefects and Head Boy and Girl, who had presumably gone back to their own chambers) were woken up by a noise like a ship's horn that sounded around seven-thirty in the morning.

Vesperra woke with such a start that she might have jumped into the air upon hearing it in her sleep; the noise jostled her into consciousness so that her eyes shot open and she immediately flipped around from lying on her side and sat up partially. The part of the sleeping bag that the lower half of her body was in looked skewed, but in a limited way, since it wasn't loose like bed sheets. Her hair was disheveled, and her heart was pounding from the jolt with which she had awoken.

Around her, other students were sitting upright and throwing the tops of their sleeping bags off of them, most of them with a heaving chest, as the noise had clearly startled all of them greatly as well.

"I apologize for waking you all so abruptly," boomed Dumbledore's voice throughout the Great Hall. He was standing up near where the Staff Table usually was and looking cheerful despite what had happened the night before. "But the House tables must be put back into their normal places. I trust many of you would like to return to your dorms and either try and manage to squeeze in another half hour of sleep, or get properly dressed and return here for breakfast."

Severus was standing near Dumbledore, somewhat tired after his limited amount of sleep, but he didn't purposely show it. Anyone up close, however, would have seen the extra irritability in his eyes as well as lines of stress and frustration. And Vesperra, who knew him well, would know just by holding his gaze for a moment. Neither of them were sure how, but they could convey feelings to each other very easily like that.

That wasn't how Severus would have chosen to wake everyone up, but he silently agreed that it had likely been more effective in getting everyone's heart rates up and unable to go back down than anything else would have been. It was mostly because of Vesperra, though, since he hardly cared about any of the other students' comfort; had Dumbledore decided to have the teachers go and wake up students individually, he would have made sure to get to Vesperra first and either nudge her softly with his foot or shake her slightly.

The Great Hall was then filled with the groans and shuffling of students indignantly climbing out of their sleeping bags, straightening their pajamas, and complaining to their friends. Vesperra didn't mind having to wake up after so little sleep so much as she did being in this state in front of the entire school. She considered the time that she slept and just after she woke up her most vulnerable state besides when she didn't have a wand—and though it could be, that wasn't necessarily because she couldn't fight anything that might be endangering her. It was because how she appeared when she was asleep or half-asleep was personal to her, and she wanted no one but Severus to see that.

As she began to leave and looked at Severus, Vesperra was suddenly hit with everything she had been feeling last night, and she knew he must have felt it as well. They might have been the only people in the hall whose minds weren't in the present moment, but they had always had the bad habit of dwelling on the things that brought them great stress. But how _could_ they have forgotten about it for too long?

Sirius Black had been in the castle. Like a bombshell, it struck the both of them that Hogwarts clearly wasn't safe anymore. They had felt something similar last year when they knew that Voldemort would have had to have been inside the castle to be opening the Chamber of Secrets, but they later heard from Dumbledore that Voldemort's memory had been inside a diary, and so he was never really inside the castle in the first place.

But Black was not dead, nor had he ever been dead, so he couldn't have gotten in the castle by means of possessing a student or inhabiting a book or some other object. Somehow, he had breached Hogwarts's magical defenses and even made it past the dementors.

Though it hurt to try and wrap their brains around it, neither Vesperra nor Severus had any intention to stop. It just wasn't in their nature.

Within seconds, Vesperra had passed through a doorway into the Entrance Hall, and she was out of Severus's sight, and he, hers. Dumbledore Vanished all the sleeping bags and rearranged the House tables, then looked to Severus, who was now thinking of how much he and Vesperra would have to talk about that night.

* * *

It was the first week of November, which meant that the first Quidditch match of the season took place that Saturday. Normally, this would have meant that everyone in Hogwarts was talking about the upcoming game, betting each other who would end up victorious, discussing the players that each of the teams had chosen, and reliving matches of past years, but things were going differently after last night.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten about Quidditch for the next few days, and was instead talking about Sirius Black. However, the school wasn't in the horrible state of fear that they might have been in. People weren't that paranoid, and not many people seemed too worried that Black would break in again anytime soon.

How exactly Black got in was the main topic of conversation, and the theories got wilder and wilder. Vesperra was sure she was the only one of the students that had a solid, plausible idea as to what the real answer was, because she had to be the only student that knew of Lupin's past relationship with Sirius Black. Though Lupin seemed just as serious as the other teachers, she believed it was an act. The werewolf must have been secretly disappointed that Black only got as far as the Fat Lady's portrait….

This made Vesperra's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson on Monday very tense for her, and she scrutinized Lupin all that she could while still paying attention to what he was saying about hinkypunks. She was careful not to let him notice, though it wouldn't have necessarily mattered if she did. Lupin must have known that Severus was suspicious of him, and since he knew that Vesperra was close to Severus, he'd have been a fool to think that she trusted him any more than Severus did.

What she heard while walking through the corridors amongst students of all Houses and years was different from what she heard at the Slytherin table during meals. Her fellow third year Slytherins were theorizing, but it was in a rather bored way. Malfoy and the others apparently didn't want to appear concerned about Black, and now spoke in a self-defensive way, saying things like—

"Well obviously _we're_ not in any danger—Black slashed up the entrance to Gryffindor tower, didn't he?"

"He won't be fool enough to try and get in again, and if he does, how's he supposed to get in our Common Room? He can't hurt a stone wall…."

"I say we station Grease-perra at the entrance just in case—that way Black'll kill her first, _and_ we'll have her scream to tell us that Black's in the castle!"

There was a hearty noise of mutual assent at that last one. But she was used to it, so it didn't bother Vesperra to the point where she was anywhere close to losing control. It _did_ bother her (annoy her, actually), however, that they were all discussing the situation like they really knew anything about it.

Vesperra realized that there really wasn't much of a reason for any of them to be concerned, since Black wasn't likely to want to kill the children of former Death Eaters when he had been one himself. Then again, he was mad, so he might not care who he killed if they were in his way. He wasn't going to stop and ask what House someone was in or who their parents were before slashing his knife right through them.

Another thing people were wondering was whether Black was still on the grounds. The entire castle had been searched, but what if Black was hiding out in the Forbidden Forest, or in Hogsmeade? It was only a matter of time before he tried getting inside Hogwarts again… and when would that be? A couple weeks from now? A month? There was no predicting the actions of a madman, and so Vesperra was on edge, likely more so than any of her fellow students.

As worried for her safety she knew Severus was, she dreaded less that Black would kill her than she was that Severus would be killed. But really, she was feeling dread for the fact that Black was still out there. Her anger about the entire thing and her desire to have the man dead or worse could not have been as great as Severus's, though, and she knew that.

* * *

If it were possible, Severus was in an even worse mood now. The next few days after Black's attempted break-in to Gryffindor Tower consisted mainly of three emotions—anger, confusion, and dread—bombarding each other inside of him, waging war and each trying and failing to become dominant. The stress of it made him wish that he could feel only one, or at least to knock out confusion.

There was really no point in trying to understand it, but Severus couldn't help it. And that definitely didn't ease any of the stress or worry. Never before had Potter been in such danger that was so great and so frequently demanding. Potter had to be watched over constantly to make sure Black had no chance of harming him—if he was even nearby, that is.

Hatred for Black almost overrode the protectiveness Severus felt over Potter, and he loathed to think that he had lost his only chance so far to capture that man. He was the type to not let go of his bitterness, and that's what made him particularly nasty in classes; he was taking out his unvented stress on the students.

Any of the leftover stress was vented to Vesperra at night through the journals, at which time they talked for hours about Black and Lupin. Only she could understand what he was feeling, and she didn't even know the entire reason. But she still understood, and that's what he appreciated. Severus was at least able to fall asleep the next few nights with his journal held tightly to his chest, and knowing that he wasn't completely alone in feeling the way he did.

However, he still couldn't tell her of his self-forced responsibility to see to it that Potter was safe, but that was the only thing he didn't share with her. And still, he wasn't even alone in that, because, true to Dumbledore's word, the rest of the staff was making sure of Potter's safety as well.

Conversation in the staffroom was with strained, worrisome voices and grave faces. The other teachers talked about how relieved they were that no one had been hurt on Sunday night and how worried they were for Potter. This, Severus was grateful for, because finally, people other than him and Dumbledore knew and cared that Potter was in danger. Even better, various teachers took it upon themselves to walk with the boy in the corridors and supervise everything he did, including Quidditch practices.

McGonagall even discussed it with Lupin and Flitwick, and had decided to tell Potter that Black was after him. Now, he would know just how much danger he was in, and hopefully he wouldn't purposely put himself in danger now that he knew… not that it was even possible, with half the staff tailing him all the time.

This made things particularly easier for Severus, because he hardly had to worry about the possibility of Black managing to get Potter alone and killing him. Along with the rest of Hogwarts, the boy wouldn't be allowed outside the castle after dinner, and he was being watched by trustworthy people. And that gave Severus the chance to keep an eye on Lupin.

For the first time since he attended Hogwarts himself, Severus was spying without having been ordered to do so. As a student, he had often spied on the Marauders to try and see what they were up to and get dirt on them; 'try' being the operative word—he often failed. Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew had been as good at sneaking around as he was, and would disappear without a trace. But after officially becoming a Death Eater, spying was his profession. He had spied on Dumbledore and others from the Dark Lord's orders; and after Lily's life had been threatened, he had spied on Voldemort for Dumbledore.

Severus had always spied on those his masters thought were dangers to their side or wanted information from, but now, he was spying on someone only because _he_ thought it was necessary. Dumbledore, in fact, wouldn't like it if he knew, but mostly because the old man would care about Lupin's privacy. Otherwise, he'd merely say something along the lines of, "Spy as you wish, Severus, but you won't find anything."

If that old codger refused to believe that Lupin had no ill intentions, then Severus was going to prove it. If he couldn't hunt Black down himself, the next best thing he could do was spy and see what he could find out or prevent….

So, when he could, he took to following Lupin, watching him during meals, seeing where he went after leaving the staffroom, and essentially all that he had done while keeping an eye on Quirrell two years before. Nothing Severus saw, however, gave him any clues as to how he might have helped Black get in the castle, or how or when he planned to do it again. He didn't see Lupin in the company of Potter over the next few days, although he did see the man stopping by the windows on the upper levels various times to watch Potter at Quidditch practice for a minute at a time.

And, of course, Lupin visited Severus's office for a dose of his Wolfsbane Potion every other day until Friday, at which times Severus scrutinized the man as well as he could without using Legilimency. Despite the fact that nothing new so far pointed towards Lupin having ulterior motives for wanting to work at Hogwarts, he was still suspicious. Just as he would continue to be until proven completely wrong—which he wouldn't be.

Although he spied and failed in uncovering anything Lupin wanted kept a secret, there was something that greatly lifted Severus's mood for the last couple days of that week. Just after dinner on Thursday evening, which Lupin had not attended, Dumbledore stopped Severus before he could leave.

"A moment of your time, please, Severus," said Dumbledore just as Severus's hand was inches from the doorknob. Somewhat reluctantly, Severus followed him to an empty corner of the room. The Headmaster surveyed him over his half-moon glasses with a strange look in his twinkling blue eyes before continuing, as though he was trying to find just the right words to articulate what he wanted to say.

"It seems," said Dumbledore, "that Remus will be unable to teach tomorrow, for his symptoms are causing him to feel too ill and too weak for any sort of work." He paused, and Severus arched an eyebrow. "You _are_ still brewing him the potion?" he asked. "And to the best of your ability?"

Severus furrowed his brow. Was _this_ what Dumbledore wanted to talk to him about? Did the old man not trust him all of a sudden? Sure, he didn't trust or like Lupin, but he wasn't going to jeopardize any students' lives by giving the werewolf a purposely messed-up potion…. It was Lupin's own fault that he was experiencing his symptoms worse than he might have been—he should have been taking the Wolfsbane Potion more often.

"Of course I am," snapped Severus.

"No need to be defensive, Severus," said Dumbledore with a slight chuckle. "I was only making sure. Now, as Remus wasn't feeling well enough to attend dinner tonight, he wished me to tell you that, because it wouldn't do well to cancel the lessons altogether, he wants you to fill in for him during the time that he is too ill to teach. That may only be tomorrow, but if his symptoms do not cease after the full moon, you may be teaching into next week as well."

Dumbledore paused again, presumably to see his reaction, and Severus couldn't blame him. His brow slackened and if it weren't for his excellent use of control over his facial expressions to not give away how he was feeling (if it were anything but anger, at least), his mouth would have been hanging open slightly.

Severus blinked. His heartbeat had gone dangerously slow, and he simply couldn't believe it. _Lupin… wants me to fill in? And Dumbledore's _letting _me? _

"And you want me to fill in as well?" said Severus skeptically, tightening his folded arms around his chest. It was just too good to be true…. Dumbledore hadn't ever let him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, so why would he suddenly let him do so now?

"Of course, Severus," Dumbledore said, now smiling at his disbelief. "We can't have students missing lessons only because their usual teacher is sick. I knew this might happen when I took Remus on, and both he and I think it's only fair that you fill in for him, since it's the subject you know best."

In spite of his growing light-heartedness, Severus scowled. "Why couldn't you allow me to teach full-time, then?"

"That, Severus, is an entirely different matter. You occupying the post for one day would make no difference on the big scale in the course of things. I trust you'll agree to do Remus this favor?"

Though he didn't understand what Dumbledore had said (something he was quite used to) and had half a mind to demand a real explanation here and now, Severus's overwhelming desire to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts kept him from saying anything but "Of course I will. I trust tomorrow's Defense lessons won't interfere with my Potions lessons?"

Severus was not sure why he was saying this; if a Potions and Defense lesson were going on at the same time, he would have someone else substitute for him. By _no_ means was he going to miss out on teaching the subject he'd been practically begging Dumbledore to let him teach for years, especially not when he only had a day at the least to do it. Perhaps he had merely felt like snapping back at the old man.

"They won't," Dumbledore assured him, his eyes not losing their slightly amused quality. "It's one of the reasons Remus and I had no objection to letting you do it. Oh—and it almost slipped my mind—Remus wished me to tell you that you may use his office if you need to—but not tomorrow evening, obviously. He won't be using it. Well, I must be retreating to my office, as it's well into the evening…. I'll leave you to prepare for tomorrow's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson."

Without realizing it, Severus had been led to the staffroom door by Dumbledore, and his eyes widened a fraction of a centimeter in surprise when he found that he was right next to the door all of a sudden.

"After you, Severus," said Dumbledore politely as he opened the door, despite the fact that courtesy would have traditionally had them in opposite positions. Dumbledore had been known not to consider himself old—or at least not so old that it should have been recognized.

Severus gave the Headmaster a small nod and was on his way, now alone as he walked to take in the impossible truth—he was going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He could not be angry at Dumbledore at the moment for trusting Lupin or not explaining everything to him, and he could not even feel the monumental crashing of anger upon fear and dread that he had been feeling no more than ten minutes earlier. Those feelings weren't gone completely, though, only playing in the background of his mind… but they were indefinitely overwhelmed by the eagerness and sense of satisfaction he now had.

He wondered whether Dumbledore would have even told him that someone needed to fill the Defense post for a day if his schedule for Friday had been different, or if he had been the old man's last choice. Whether Severus had been or not, that didn't clarify anything, since he had been Dumbledore's last choice before and yet he had still insisted on finding someone else.

But did Dumbledore and Lupin really think Severus would be doing this as a _favor_? Because it wasn't for Lupin in the least—the old man must have known that. This just proved that the werewolf trusted people just as foolishly as the Headmaster did.

Whatever the reasoning behind it was, Severus didn't care anymore. He forced himself to stop thinking about it, because he didn't need _another_ thing to keep him confused—and because he had honestly stopped caring.

This was just… unbelievable. And perfect. Severus was getting something he'd wanted for years, and now was a better time than ever for it to happen. How better to spy on your enemy than to be in your enemy's position? As he strode through the corridors, ideas flashed into his mind so that his eyes were alight and the force of his newfound happiness tugged the edges of his lips into a smirk.

Now that he had the chance to teach the students the subject he was best at, he could excessively hint to Lupin's lycanthropy. Tomorrow was his chance to try to make it easy for some students figure out that the man was a werewolf and not to be trusted…. The less people trusted Lupin, the easier things were for Severus. And if any of them decided to tell their friends and parents, and it got around… that was even better. Then Lupin would have no choice but to leave, and no worrying would have to be done about Black getting back inside the castle.

_And_ Dumbledore would have no choice but to let Severus continue teaching the class for the rest of the year.

The plan of how to do this was already forming in his head, and while that was mingled with the sheer feeling of joy at tomorrow bringing his first ever Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Severus felt like puffing out his chest and laughing out loud—only he couldn't decide whether it would be slightly maniacal or suffused with utter joy. He was happy in various ways at the moment.

Severus was about to descend the stairs into the dungeons when he suddenly realized that, with Defense lessons tomorrow, he ought to be checking the schedule or some other records in Lupin's office —no, _his_ office. It was his office until Friday evening, and possibly later.

Stopping in his tracks and turning back around, he crossed the Entrance Hall and took the staircase up to the second floor, where the office was. He found it unlocked, and felt his chest threatening to swell up again with the satisfaction of knowing that he'd be using it tomorrow. And for once he had the chance to search the office for anything that might strengthen or confirm his suspicions about Lupin.

The first thing Severus did was have an almost leisurely walk around the office, his arms folded behind his back as he examined everything. It was hardly different from the way he had seen it on Halloween but for the different stacks of parchment on the desk. Also, the Grindylow in the cage was gone from the corner and replaced with a glass box containing wisps of smoke that was actually a hinkypunk. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary, disappointingly, but Severus supposed Lupin wasn't stupid enough to leave anything suspicious lying around. And really, what would the werewolf have even had in his possession that would be suspicious in the first place?

He also skimmed through the short stacks of parchment, which were only graded and non-graded essays. Apparently Lupin's symptoms had become so bad that he was abruptly stopped from work in the middle of grading…. Otherwise, there weren't that many other sheets of parchment or folders or any records of the curriculum—Severus did, however, find Lupin's resume.

Narrowing his eyes maliciously, he straightened out the previously rolled-up scroll of parchment and read it. Obviously his being a werewolf was listed on there, as whether or not someone became a full-fledged monster once a month was something you'd like to know before hiring them. If an employer were to discover Lupin's condition and it had not been on his resume, he'd have likely been sentenced to six months in Azkaban thanks to Delores Umbridge's Anti-Werewolf Legislation.

According to his list of previous professions, after Voldemort's downfall, when the Order of the Phoenix would have dissolved, he only had two other jobs before Hogwarts. The first was a small position at a Wizarding pub in Wales that he had kept for several years, but—undoubtedly when the Legislation was passed—he was fired and then held private Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for adults.

Severus wasn't surprised to find that Lupin had been living in the Hog's Head before coming to work at Hogwarts, as that was probably the cheapest choice and had conditions that were very fitting for a werewolf. Suddenly, he couldn't help but remember when Trelawney had been staying in that inn fourteen years ago, and he had been listening outside the door, just as Voldemort had ordered him to…

Scowling at the resurfacing of that guilt-filled memory, Severus rolled Lupin's resume back up and returned it to its previous spot. There hadn't been anything on there that was worth knowing, anyway… except for that he had been giving private Defense lessons before. That was somewhat curious, considering that not many people would willingly take lessons from a werewolf—unless he didn't tell them, of course, which was always a possibility, since it wasn't a Ministry-approved job in the first place. And he couldn't have been fired by anyone.

He couldn't help but be angry now, as though blaming Lupin for reminding him of the day he heard the prophecy that had predicted Lily's death. While he employed mild Occlumency and mentally cooled off, Severus sat down and opened the other rickety drawers in the desk, which still gave him nothing of importance.

Then, as his eyes wandered to the wall behind Lupin's desk, he noticed that, among the several posters tacked to the wall, there was a small calendar bearing the dates and times of upcoming classes. Ah—just what he was looking for… Running a long, pale finger down to November Fifth, Severus narrowed his eyes and then widened them again—not in surprise, but in pleasure. Tomorrow after lunch, he would be teaching the third year Gryffindors.

It was the first time he could ever remember being so grateful for having a class with Potter. This was quite different from looking forward to an hour of merciless bullying and taking his anger out on Gryffindors, giving them what (in his opinion) they deserved; this was not at all vindictive pleasure. Severus was actually grateful, and to the point of wondering whether this was a reward from the higher forces of the Universe for something he had done right. It wasn't something Severus often thought about, since it was difficult to believe in a higher power after having grown up with awfully unjust circumstances, and he may even consider such beliefs foolish at times, but perhaps this was a sign that he was right about Lupin, and the forces of the Universe were actually siding with him for once.

Now, the one person he wanted most to realize what Lupin's symptoms meant— that he was a werewolf and could easily be after everyone's lives—would be sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom tomorrow and directly subjected to the irrefutable facts. A smile of such satisfaction that any student who saw it would be very frightened at the sight of it forced its way onto Severus's face, and he didn't stop it. Black may have gotten into the school four nights before, but this nearly made up for it. This was just too damn perfect.

And then his smile faltered, and Severus checked the calendar once again, just in case—the morning Defense lesson just before his N.E.W.T. seventh years in Potions… was the fifth year Hufflepuffs. _Dammit._ Well, he supposed he couldn't have all the luck, even if things were going his way for a single day…. But the one thing that could have made it better was if he had the third year Slytherins tomorrow as well.

It had really been pointless to check the calendar again, since classes generally switched around and teachers didn't have two groups of students of the same year in the same day, but he knew that Vesperra more than anyone would love to be taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by him. And she'd be even happier knowing he was getting what he wanted so badly…. She may not have known the whole of it, but she at least new him better than everyone else. The rest of the Slytherins would be glad that he, their favorite teacher, was able to teach the subject he had wanted to teach in the first place, but none of them could truly feel happy for him.

If he _did_ have Vesperra in a Defense lesson tomorrow, he would have kept it from her until then and let her have quite a pleasant surprise when she entered the classroom, expecting Lupin and another dreadful hour of being in the werewolf's presence, but finding instead Severus sitting at the desk. He'd have very much liked to see her reaction—he expected she'd be the first in the classroom, so there would be no problem with her talking to him alone for a minute or so. But alas, none of that would happen, because the full moon wasn't next Wednesday, when (as he had read on the calendar) Vesperra's next DADA lesson would be.

Still, he couldn't be selfish and want _more_…. This much luck to have come his way was enough. Yes, Severus was quite selfish at times, but that was in terms of people and often concerning relationships and kindness (or lack thereof). He had never been selfish about material possessions, or money, or even good fortune—he had long since his childhood accepted that 'good fortune' would forever be a foreign concept to him.

But apparently, good things _could_ happen to him. Lily was the best thing that had ever happened to him, not counting what happened later on. Vesperra had happened to him, which was more than he deserved. And this small piece of luck seemed unbelievable even compared to them, because things rarely worked out in the small scale of things for him. Then again, this would eventually work out in the large scale for everybody if his plan worked, so it wasn't all just for him. The immediate satisfaction and the fact that this might keep Potter safer in the future was for him, though. And Severus would take what he could get.

It occurred to Severus, just then, how he could tell Vesperra and still make it sort of a surprise. No matter what he was going to tell her tonight, if he could, he wanted to see her face. If she even made an expression worth seeing, that is.

So, remaining stationary in Lupin's chair (which, he thought with slight smugness, was _his_ chair for the time being), Severus reached inside his robes and extracted his journal, bound in dark green fabric and with a latch upon which gleamed an _L_ wrought from silver.

* * *

_I'm sorry I was a bit late in writing to you tonight, but I have an excuse and I'll explain it all to you if you come to Lupin's office._

Vesperra didn't necessarily mind that he had written a good twenty minutes later than was usual, but the fact that he wanted her to come to Lupin's office had her both curious and confused.

_**Why Lupin's office?**_

_I'll tell you when you get here. Just come._

She knew there was no more arguing it, and it wasn't as if she was opposed to the idea of going there, anyway. So, Vesperra sighed, and wrote;

_**Alright, I'm coming.**_

* * *

It felt strange, taking the left turn up the stairs that led to the Entrance Hall rather than a right turn down a corridor further into the dungeons where Severus's office was. Vesperra's mind raked through all the possibilities of what could be waiting for her at Lupin's office—and none of them, if she was thinking logically, included Lupin being there. Why on Earth would Severus tell her anything in front of Lupin? But then, why would Lupin not be in his own office?—Had Severus searched the room while its usual occupant was out for a while and found something?

The corridors weren't quite empty, as it was still at least an hour until curfew. This was what almost made it safer to leave the dungeons after dinner, because if Malfoy was still trying to spy on her, he'd think she was going upstairs to the library.

When she reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, Vesperra found that no one was outside it. For some reason, she had imagined Severus meeting her outside of Lupin's office, but apparently not… Hoping that she wouldn't find both Severus _and _Lupin in there, she knocked.

* * *

Almost at once, the door flew open, and no one was on the other side. Vesperra's head whipped around to face the desk, which Severus was sitting in. His wand was out; he had evidently just opened the door with his wand rather than getting up and opening it manually. He smirked at her in a would-be casual sort of way, and she arched an eyebrow.

"Did you _kill_ Lupin?" asked Vesperra hopefully, walking further inside as Severus closed the door behind her with another flick of his wand before she could do so herself. It had been the first question to come to mind, and the first explanation as to why Severus was sitting in the werewolf's desk.

"As easier as that would make things, no," said Severus, smirking slightly wider. "I'm afraid the mutt's still alive—not necessarily healthy at the moment, though." He kept his voice nonchalant, and watched her cross the room to the chair on the other side of Lupin's desk, and fold her arms.

"Then why are you in Lupin's office?" she said. Severus's expression made it seem as though he didn't care that she was confused, and it was slightly annoying.

He had been waiting for her to ask that… and in the meantime, her frustration had been somewhat amusing.

"Correction," said Severus, leaning forward, "this is _my_ office—until tomorrow evening, at least, but possibly longer."

Vesperra froze, and furrowed her brow still more tightly for a moment. "_Your_ office—" A second later, dawning realization was on her face. "Severus, you're teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? How?"

Severus then told her what Dumbledore had told him and what he planned to do tomorrow—minus everything about Potter, of course. "—it's too bad you can't be there, but I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. You and some of the Slytherins already don't trust him," he finished.

Vesperra was so glad for him that she wanted to hug him, but that would be a little difficult and nonetheless awkward to do across a desk. She settled for reaching for his hand and squeezing it very hard.

"Do you think you might be able to get him sacked this way?" said Vesperra, unable to hide the maliciousness in her voice. For once, it didn't disconcert Severus in the least.

"Not _sacked_," said Severus, squeezing her hand back. "Dumbledore would never fire him, whether or not he trusted him. The crazy old man didn't fire Quirrell even though he knew he was up to something from the very beginning of the year," he added in undertone, but then he picked his normal tone back up, not wanting to focus on past times when Dumbledore had driven him insane. Because Dumbledore was _still_ driving him insane. "But, if this works to the absolute best it can—meaning that a good number of students _aren't_ as big dunderheads as I thought—then Lupin may be forced to quit. And if not that, at least fewer students will trust him."

It was at that, that Vesperra's expression hardened and her voice became slightly more serious. "You're teaching the Gryffindors, though…. And they're a bunch of idiots."

"Not Granger," he argued. Upon noticing her sudden scowl and a word of argument or protest forming on her lips, he continued, "I hate her, but I'm not going to lie and call her an idiot. She's nearly as smart as you, and if she figures it out, then she'll probably tell all her little friends…."

Severus's voice trailed off, as he had only realized this as he said it. Vesperra didn't know why exactly this brought a glint to his eye, but it was because any doubt that he had was quickly disappearing in favor of more confidence that his plan would work—because it just had to.

"And gossip breeds in Hogwarts like rabbits," mused Vesperra, suddenly having more confidence in his plan as well. "Especially when it concerns those three—Potter, Weasley, and Granger… Come to think of it, nearly everything in this school concerns those three." She frowned at the thought of them, resolutely staring at a stain on the desk in front of her.

Severus could think of nothing to say to this. It wasn't that this was an awkward statement or anything uncomfortable for him to talk about, but he hated the famous trio as well, and Vesperra knew this. There was simply nothing of importance to add to it or reply with, because the topic had been exhausted between the two of them many times. He was saved the trouble of saying something else, however, because Vesperra coughed and looked up again a second later.

"Does it bother you that you're sitting in Lupin's chair?" she asked with a hint of disgust in her tone in regards to Lupin. "I mean—I know how it must feel, sitting in the seat of power in this office, since you've always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but… I'd have thought you wouldn't like it in a room that's so often inhabited by that werewolf, let alone sit in the chair he sits in nearly everyday."

Her eyes were fixed on him questioningly, and Severus had to admit that her question hadn't really caught him by surprise.

"A little," he admitted quietly, letting his eyes wandering from her face and around the room. It was different, seeing the room from this angle—from the way Lupin would had observed it. "But it's the Defense office all the same, and the last time I actually sat down in here was in my sixth year, when I had detention with Professor Brocklehurst. And now… I'm in _this_ chair, rather than the one you're sitting in. It's been Quirrell's and Lockhart's office all the same, so it's really not much different. I can't really complain, anyway, can I?"

She gave him a small smirk. "I suppose not. Although, this office has got sort of a forresty smell…. And what I'm actually worried about is you getting fleas from sitting in that chair."

Immediately, Severus had an itch on his neck, and scratched it without realizing what he was doing until a second later. Obviously Vesperra noticed, for her eyebrows knitted together.

"Sev—?"

"I'm fine," he interrupted. "I only itched because you put ideas into my subconscious. There are no fleas or otherwise any magical bugs in here—I would have seen them."

"Hm." A thought then occurred to her, and she changed subjects without warning. "So what did you get detention for, anyway?"

He hesitated for a second, deciding whether or not he cared if she knew. A half a second's thought led him to the decision that he'd actually like for her to know. "I cursed Potter and Black right outside of the Defense classroom—they were sent to the Hospital Wing covered in fungus that wouldn't come off for three days and only got worse the more they tried to remove it. It was awful luck that Brocklehurst had to come hurrying down the corridor just then…."

As he remembered this particular day, he smirked at the state Potter and Black had been in. But it wasn't only that—he could remember, just before Brocklehurst had shouted "Mr. Snape! Such dangerous behavior—I cannot _believe_—twenty points from Slytherin, and—Potter and Black, to the Hospital Wing at once!" that he had, against his better judgment, glanced at Lily for a fraction of a second, and she had seemed to be smiling. Considering that this had been several months after she had stopped being friends with him, he had been in silent awe to see that she could still smile at something he did to Potter and Black—that was, of course, before she began dating the former of the two.

Part of Vesperra wanted to ask what exactly Severus's childhood tormentors had done to make him angry enough to use such a curse, but since he hadn't already told her, she wasn't sure whether that had been because he simply forgot to mention it or because he didn't want her to know. So she didn't ask.

However, another part of her couldn't help but think that it was a bit rich for him to tell her to avoid Dark Magic when he used to use it as well… but then she remembered what he said about making mistakes that had ruined his life, and wasn't thinking so selfishly anymore.

"Was it worth it?" said Vesperra, amused at the maliciously triumphant glint in his eyes, which now looked somewhat distant.

"Having those two suffer in exchange for a measly few nights of organizing the filing cabinets?" said Severus. "Of course—" He stopped, noticing, seemingly for the first time, the nature of what he was telling her and, possibly even worse, her expression upon hearing it.

"It was worth it then. But I was a teenager," Severus continued in a completely different tone, now rather serious, "and I was pretty stupid…. And the long-term consequences are worse than you might think. I know I must seem like a hypocrite, Vesperra, but I wasn't telling you this to give you ideas—"

"Who said I was getting ideas, Severus?" said Vesperra hotly. "If I curse someone, it's not likely to be planned—it'll be on the spur of the moment, because of something Malfoy or someone else has said or done to me…. And besides, I'm keeping my promise; I've been trying to control myself." He didn't know how many times she could have easily flipped out but didn't… but she didn't want to tell him.

He stared at her for a few seconds with a mildly calm expression. "I'm sorry. Forget I said it. I just don't want you to see me as a hypocrite."

"I don't, Severus," she assured him. Truth was, she really couldn't think badly of him at all—and definitely not as badly as he thought of himself.

"I'm glad, but I couldn't be angry if you did. Now—" Severus looked towards the clock, whose hour hand was about halfway to the eight. "—would you like to continue this in my office?"

"You don't want to stay in here? I thought you had a lesson to plan."

"Yes, but the dungeons are still where my chambers are—and I don't want you walking all the way from here down to your dorm alone once you decide to leave. And, to be honest, the thrill of sitting in the office is wearing off. If Dumbledore ever does finally let me teach Defense full-time, I'm keeping my dungeon office."

"Alright, then." If Severus wanted to leave, then she had no problem with it. With that, they left what was normally Lupin's office and he walked with Vesperra back down to the dungeons with the plan that if any teacher were to see them and start wondering, he'd have the excuse that she had been leaving the library and he didn't think it was safe for students to be walking around alone in the evening anymore.

A while after they had resettled in his office couch, Severus decided that Vesperra should be getting to bed, and that he should be planning the finer details of tomorrow's lessons (the outline was already clear in his head). Vesperra obliged, if only for Severus's benefit.

"Night, Severus," she said with a slight yawn before leaving. "And good luck tomorrow."

* * *

The weather had been steadily getting worse over the course of the week, and on Friday, it was so dark that extra torches had been lit in the corridors. Vesperra liked it, actually—much of the castle seemed like the dungeons, and thus much of the castle felt automatically more welcoming. She just didn't fit in a cheery environment.

But that wasn't to say the castle was necessarily gloomy—it may have been storming harder than ever, the thunder temporarily drowning out all noise and interrupting conversation at times, but Hogwarts had finally moved on to talking about things other than Sirius Black, and naturally the first thing they did was Quidditch.

They were making up for a lost week's of pre-match talk by talking non-stop about Quidditch until the first match of the season, which was tomorrow, and the castle was in a rather happy state in spite of the darkness. Malfoy and the Slytherin team, especially, were immersed in the talk of Quidditch. All through breakfast on Friday, they were sniggering about having just told Madam Hooch the night before that they couldn't play, and how the Gryffindor team would have to play Hufflepuff instead.

"Imagine the humiliation it'll be for Potter when they _lose_ to Hufflepuff," said Malfoy over the howling wind, Crabbe and Goyle laughing stupidly on either side of him. "It'll be quite the wake-up call for him—just what the famous _Potter_ needs…"

"I can't believe how lucky we are," said Montague thickly, swallowing a spoonful of porridge. He was seated next to Tracey, who was inching herself away from him and closer to Daphne, apparently not wanting to be crushed by him. "We had no idea it was going to be raining this hard…."

"That just goes to show, you guys," said Marcus Flint with an air of great smugness as he used his fork for hand gestures and emphasis, "that everything always goes your way when you're lying, cheating, scheming scumbags like us."

Flint's remark was followed by a gale of laughter, and even Vesperra agreed with that statement, though inwardly. She, luckily, was not squeezed in between two burly Quidditch players, but had Nott, who ate silently, on one side of her, and Bulstrode on the other. On the other hand, Millicent was quite bulky enough to qualify for a spot on the Slytherin team….

But Vesperra didn't have to sit there much longer, because breakfast ended soon and the Slytherins were setting off through the dark corridors to the indoor Herbology lesson. The windows were glossy black—it was impossible to make out anything from looking through them, but Vesperra tried absentmindedly as she walked anyway.

While the rest of the school was excited about the upcoming Quidditch game, all Vesperra could think of was how this was the day that Severus would finally get exactly what he wanted—and she was hoping it would go well for him.

* * *

So far, Severus couldn't remember having a better day—in his adult life before he had met Vesperra, at least. The first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson he'd ever taught was the first on Friday, and it was even better that it was so dark outside, forcing him as well as the rest of the teachers to light extra torches and lanterns in their classrooms. It was almost as if the weather was adopting a rather gloomy disposition specifically for him.

It felt strange, as he was so used to standing in a dungeon when he gave lectures, but extremely satisfying nonetheless, especially at the expressions of the fifth year Hufflepuffs when they walked in to his sinisterly smirking face and the growing feeling of dread amongst them as he progressed through the lesson.

Being Hufflepuffs, they weren't exactly indignant or even bold enough to argue with him, but it was clear they resented Severus teaching them just as nearly all the students but the Slytherins would. It gave him even more of a feeling of power as he stood before them, radiating hostility for Lupin and the way he ran things. But he couldn't walk through the aisles and degrade everyone with waspish remarks about their work, because it wasn't Potions. That wasn't something he'd have to get used to, anyway, because this was more than likely to be a one-time thing.

By the time the Hufflepuffs left, looking rather harassed, he wasn't sure whether he had made an effect. Perhaps, since he had told them that werewolves would indefinitely come up in their O.W.L.s, they would spend so much time researching that they would have no choice but to make the conclusion he wanted them to—but he'd have to wait a few days to know.

In between classes, Severus didn't spend much time in the Defense office, since he still had his usual classes to be getting on with. He made the trip from the second floor to the dungeons for the seventh years and, as he rarely did, walked up from behind the group of waiting students to open the door rather than doing so from the inside.

Lupin wasn't at lunch, which was a good sign to Severus—it was now even more likely to him that the werewolf would not be fit for classes on Monday. As he, along with the rest of the school, left the Great Hall either for break or a lesson (in his case, a lesson), he was feeling particularly devious—in an ultimately good way, of course; Potter would be in his upcoming lesson.

Vesperra, just before the hem of her robes disappeared around the edge of a doorway out of the hall, managed to give him an encouraging look. And it was that, possibly, that boosted his mood tenfold before he left as well.

After a lengthy conversation with McGonagall and departing from the staffroom, Severus headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The corridors were empty but for the few students that had a break at this time and weren't using it to study, and the stragglers that were trying to hurry to their lessons before their teachers noticed they were late. He was too focused on the very near future to give any of them detention, and simply passed by without a word.

Severus jerked open the door and strode into the room, each of the heads turning towards him and following his movement, and each of his footsteps echoing when they weren't muffled by the howling of the wind outside.

"Professor Snape!" said Granger before he reached the desk at the front of the class. "Professor, why are you in here? Surely you're not—"

"What I may or may not be doing is not for you to decide, Miss Granger," he snapped, turning around to glare at them. "And to prove your presumptions wrong, I am, indeed, teaching this class—"

"For how long?" asked Weasley tentatively. His voice cracked, and Severus was not sure whether this was because of puberty or nervousness, but the boy and several others looked as though they were being sentenced to their deaths.

He paused dangerously, then said, "Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting me, Weasley." Several people slapped their hands down on their desk and turned to look angrily at the ginger. "And I do not know how long. But I would suggest that you all assume I may be here for your next lesson on Monday."

His eyes flashed with something like a justified sense of wickedness, and he quickly scanned the room—Severus noticed, now, that Potter wasn't here. It should have registered to him earlier than now, since there was an empty seat next to Weasley (who had turned a light shade of red) and Granger, but his mind had been on other things. The question now, was, _Where the hell is Potter and why isn't he here?_

But he didn't have the chance to think about it for even a moment, because Parvati Patil suddenly said, "But—sir, where's Professor Lupin?" There was immediately rapt attention from everyone in the room—even Longbottom, who had sunk very low in his seat as soon as Severus had entered. Clearly they had all been wondering this as well.

Severus was prepared for such questioning just as he knew it was going to happen before the lesson with the Hufflepuffs, though he wasn't planning on retaliating with taking away House points. In fact, if he answered the questions carefully, he figured, it would help his overall intention with this lesson.

"Your dear _Lupin_," said Severus, his loathing for the man not able to be any more obvious from his tone, "is currently too ill to teach." There were then soft murmurs around the class, and he heard one or two students mutter something like, "I thought he'd been looking pretty sick lately…." Most of them looked genuinely worried for the man's health.

"Now," he continued, ignoring the students' expressions and acting as though no interruptions had been made, "you have never been taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by me, but I would expect you no less adept in the subject than you have been with your other teachers. Frankly, you would have been much more advanced by now under my teaching, but I suppose I will have to make do."

With that, he placed a hand on the wooden desk behind him and walked quickly around it to sit down. Severus was thoroughly enjoying the effect he was making so far—though he couldn't say that he was at all satisfied at the way the students were glaring at him, as though he wasn't worthy to sit in Lupin's chair.

With a scowl worse than any of theirs, he folded his hands on the desk and said, "It should not be necessary to tell all of you this, as you have each been taking my Potions class for the past three years, but I am not Professor Lupin, and I do not teach like him. There will be no complaining that I run this class quite differently than he did, because you may very well be getting used to having a fully competent instructor in Defense Against the Dark Arts. In any case, he has not—"

Severus was cut off by the door suddenly opening; he and many others looked up from their desks, and saw a shape that wasn't fully visible at first in the flickering firelight as it dashed in, but he recognized it as Potter a moment later. The boy's disheveled hair and crooked glasses made it obvious that he'd just ran here.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I—"

Potter stopped dead as he noticed it was Severus, not Lupin, who was sitting in the teacher's desk. _So he was just late,_ thought Severus, glad that Sirius Black hadn't anything to do with Potter's absence. _I should have known._

"This lesson started ten minutes ago, Potter," said Severus, wondering if Lupin would have been lenient about something like this, "so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But the boy stayed standing defiantly where he was, and said, "Where's Professor Lupin?"

It was annoying to answer the question a second time, but Potter was the main reason he had so looked forward to teaching this lesson.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," he said with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

Still, Potter didn't move, incensing Severus further. "What's wrong with him?"

Severus was glad, for once, that Potter felt the need to ask more questions than was necessary. "Nothing life-threatening," he said with a resentful look, wishing that it was. Ironically, Lupin's condition could indeed be life-threatening if it weren't for the Wolfsbane Potion—just to others rather than himself. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Potter finally did as he was told and went to his seat, though rather grudgingly. _Twenty points from Gryffindor already, and hardly ten minutes into class… This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?_

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted," said Severus, looking around at the class as Potter sat down, "Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"Please, sir," interrupted Granger, her hand shooting into the air, "we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows, and we're just about to start—"

Severus scowled both at the mention of Boggarts and at the audacity the girl had to interrupt him.

"Be quiet," he said coldly. "I did not as for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly. There was a murmur of agreement, and Severus felt a rush of anger. _Of course Lupin's the best they've had,_ he thought savagely, _when the past two were Quirrell and Lockhart._ But there was more to it than that—it seemed as though they would be determined to like Lupin and not listen to Severus. He was trying to make sure they stopped trusting the man, and so far, it was going in the opposite direction.

Glowering at the class menacingly, Severus said, "You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—" He opened the textbook on the desk in front of him, starting with a considerable chunk from the front of the book, and flicked to the last chapter. "—werewolves."

"But, sir," said Granger before Severus's eyes could even hold the glint of slight satisfaction for what was about to be done, apparently unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks—"

"Miss Granger," said Severus in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching the lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." His eyes now alight with impatience and anger, he glanced around at the rest of the class, who had remained stationary even at his words, without even an involuntary twitch of their hands toward their books. "_All_ of you! _Now!_"

Finally, they all followed his order and opened their books, though none of them seemed any happier than Severus was. Recomposing himself, he straightened his robes and stood up, then took up residence in the spot directly at the front of the class. Folding his arms behind his back with the textbook in one hand, he, in an attempt to calm down, reminded himself that he should have counted on the Gryffindors being this annoyingly bold.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" he asked them.

It wasn't necessarily a question he intended to be answered, since he knew none of them would know it; no, it was simply to emphasize the matter at hand, and also to exemplify how little they knew. Severus had a tendency to consciously take out his anger by being condescending to others—especially small children.

He might have expected Vesperra to know, however, and of course Granger—as usual, the bushy-haired girl's hand shot straight into the air. He ignored it, and instead looked with a twisted smile at the silent and motionless class.

"Anyone? Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—?"

"We told you," interrupted the Patil girl, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"

"_Silence!_" snarled Severus, his black eyes reduced to slits and his teeth nearly bared—but he resisted that particular impulse of anger. It incensed him beyond anything that they could not learn when to shut up and not argue with the way the class was taught. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one." He spoke with a cold edge to his voice, and he hoped it would properly hint to them that they saw a werewolf nearly every day. "I shall make a point of informing Dumbledore how very behind you all are…."

All the while, Granger's hand had still been in the air, and her expression determined. Severus would have ignored it further, but then the girl said, "Please, sir, the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Severus coolly, without looking at her. It had also been the umpteenth time that she had both answered a question without being called upon and done nothing more than recite a passage from a textbook. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Having finally exerted real punishment on Granger for what he'd have liked to have done countless times before, Severus smirked inwardly in triumph. He ignored the glares he was now receiving from everyone—everyone but Granger, who had put her hand down, gone very red, and was now looking at the floor with her eyes unmistakably full of tears. _That ought to have brought down her confidence,_ he thought, now wishing more than ever that this had been a double period so Vesperra could have seen this.

But hardly seconds later, Weasley, whose face had gone just as red as the girl next to him, suddenly said loudly, "You asked a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The next moment was one of dangerous silence, in which Weasley's eyes widened and his expression was pulled back at the realization of what he'd just said and how far across the line he had stepped. Everyone else held their breath in the same shock—all but Severus, who advanced on Weasley slowly, taking care to let every step he took fall heavily and echo ominously.

When he was at Weasley's desk, he bent down so that their faces were very close—a closeness that Vesperra might have been jealous to see.

"Detention, Weasley," said Severus silkily. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Weasley gulped, and everyone else exhaled, still glaring at Severus. He sneered and returned to the front of the room, where he continued lecturing them about werewolves for a few minutes, then set them to the task of taking notes on the chapter starting on page 394.

There were several things they should have picked up on, especially in the list and descriptions of traits—Hell, the first one was a dead giveaway:

_Each month, during the week preceding the full moon, a werewolf will begin to lose him-or-herself to the sickness of lycanthropy, and will appear ill for that time. Such symptoms include the appearance of malnourishment (which coincides with their loss of appetite), increasingly pale skin, shortness of temper/signs of depression (depending on the werewolf in question), and dark shadows around the eyes._

At first glance, anyone might think that a person with those symptoms simply had a normal sickness, but once they connected it with it always being the week before the full moon, or at least that it occurred once a month with Lupin, it should be obvious.

Things like that would be what proved to the students that Lupin's symptoms and premature aging among other things meant he was a werewolf, and other bits of information—if the first part of it was successful—would force them to stop trusting Lupin, no matter how nice he appeared to be to them. As it said in the textbook, werewolves forget who they are when they transform. They'd kill their own best friend if they had the chance. And the humans closest to them when they were transformed were in the most danger. Even if some of them liked Lupin very much and refused to believe he would ever purposely hurt them, at least they would know that it wouldn't matter once he was in his wolf form.

Once again, Severus couldn't be sure how much of an effect his plan was making or if it was making any effect at all on the little brats. Forcibly, he was reminded of his fifth year after he had nearly been killed from Black's stupid prank, and how Lily wouldn't listen to him when he tried to relay his "theory" to her. Obviously he had had proof then, but he had been forbidden to tell anyone what he had seen at the end of the passage. Lily had outright refused to believe that Lupin was a werewolf, even though all the facts were right in front of her. Would these Gryffindors be the same way? Could this chance to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts not have been luck after all, but simply the Universe taunting him?

He didn't want to think about that. Instead, Severus took to prowling in between the desks as he always did in Potions, and rather than observing the students' current work, shuffled through their past essays and examined them out loud.

Hardly any of the essays from the third year Gryffindors were up to the standard that Severus normally expected Potions essays to be. "Apparently," he sneered as he passed in between Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan, "Lupin expects far less of you than I would… and no wonder, because the quality of this work is abysmal."

And he began criticizing details. "Merlin, this is hardly legible… Very poorly explained, no subtlety in the least… Everyone has the right to their own opinion, but this was interpreted horribly wrong…. That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia... So little reasoning that there's no use but to litter an owl cage with this essay… Brownies have far more distinguishable traits from Red Caps, this is much too vague…. Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three…."

It was obvious by the end of class that the whole of the third year Gryffindors loathed him even worse now, but Severus wasn't holding out for popularity—he just wanted them all to realize that Lupin was a werewolf. They could go on hating him for all he cared…. And just to make sure—

"You will each write an essay," said Severus loudly, holding them back after the bell rang, "to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

All the students but Weasley left, but not before giving Severus a look that implied that were very indignant about it but not stupid enough to appear so in front of him. Truthfully, Severus knew that he might not be teaching Defense on Monday, but whether or not the essays were ever turned in to him, they would still be done. And that would mean that the Gryffindors would research the exact traits that would clue them in to Lupin's disease if their notes hadn't. And if his plan worked, then he actually _would_ be teaching on Monday.

Weasley, first glancing towards the door as though silently wishing his friends hadn't left him alone, approached Severus.

"Hm. Let's see, Weasley…" he said coldly, thinking of a proper punishment.

"Will I have to do lines?" said Weasley hopefully. In retrospect, that was about the dumbest thing he could have said, since it only made Severus think more determinedly of something much worse.

"I don't think so, Weasley." Severus's eyes flashed. "Beginning tomorrow evening at eight o'clock, you will be scrubbing out the bedpans in the Hospital Wing—" Weasley opened his mouth to protest, but Severus only smiled nastily and went on, "—_without_ magic. But by all means, feel free to write lines as well."

"Sir—!"

"I don't believe it would be particularly wise to finish that sentence, Mr. Weasley," said Severus in a soft, dangerous voice, "unless you would like me to add on another night of cleaning out fecal matter." Weasley then closed his mouth, and said nothing. "Good, then. Now get out of my sight."

Responding so quickly that it gave the impression there was nothing in the world he'd like better to do, Weasley turned and hurried out of the classroom. His mop of flaming red hair was gone within seconds, and Severus stared at the empty doorway for a moment before going to sort out his things and return the graded essays to their previous spot in Lupin's office.

Knowing he may never return to this office but for delivering Wolfsbane Potion to Lupin, Severus left quickly in favor of the dungeons, where his Potions lesson would take place in about five minutes. And as he practically glided down the corridor, he hoped that he had made his chance at teaching Defense worth it, and that at least one of the students would figure it out.

* * *

**I think Severus really deserves to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, don't you? I loved writing his reaction to finally being able to. And I loved writing the 'insufferable know-it-all' part, because it's one of my favorite quotes from him... He's so mean sometimes, but it's justified. JUSTIFIED BY HIS AWESOMENESS. **

**Anyway, please review, and I promise I'll update as soon as possible! ^_^**


	38. Book 3: Chapter 10

**YES, EARLY CHAPTER! I finished writing this last night, and spent this morning before school and my time after school reading it over and editing it. It's a bit shorter than usual, but only slightly. Oh, and I drew a picture of the scene in _Book 3: Chapter 5_ (though it's somewhat tweaked and not exactly true ot the scene) where Severus kisses Vesperra, and it's on my DeviantArt account, the link to which is in my profile.**

* * *

Vesperra was sorry to hear how Severus's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with the Gryffindors had gone later that evening, when he told her what had happened through the journals. She had expected something like that to happen, but that didn't make it any better.

But _of course_ the one day Severus gets to teach the subject he had been pining after for so long, Potter's late and is as insolent as ever, just like his stupid father. It suddenly hit Vesperra how Severus must have felt every time Potter disobeyed or disrespected him—it would be the spitting image of James Potter ridiculing him.

Feeling a burst of hatred beyond what she usually felt for the Boy-Who-Lived, Vesperra was now very eager to see the Gryffindors' downfall at the Quidditch game the next day. Something in her heavily pounding heart told her that the Gryffindors would, indeed, lose, and she was absolutely _sure_ of it this time.

And if she was wrong, she was going to be angrier than she had been the last two years after Slytherin lost, even though they were against Hufflepuff this time. Vesperra didn't necessarily care about the outcome of the Quidditch games but for the points that would contribute to which House won the House cup, but she just wanted to see something bad happen to Potter.

However, by the next morning at breakfast, it looked as though she wouldn't be able to see anything at all on the Quidditch pitch. The enchanted ceiling above the Great Hall was filled with the same dark grey clouds that were outside, which were moving so fast that they looked like billowing smoke.

From her dorm in the dungeons the noise hadn't been so loud, but on ground level within the castle, Vesperra could hear that the thunder, rain buffeting on the windows, and wind pounding on the castle walls were louder than ever. Even the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest was audible, and if the wind was strong enough to sway thick trunks of wood, Vesperra didn't like to think of how difficult it would be to walk once outside.

The thunderstorm had two opposite effects on the students of Hogwarts, both to the extreme; as she ate breakfast, Vesperra noticed that both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams seemed rather apprehensive and unwilling to play in that storm. And thus, the rest of those Houses must have been worried for their teams' safety and chances of winning, since the storm was harsh enough to blow anyone that was on a broom off course. The up-side for them was that there wasn't any lightning—yet.

Everyone else, however, was apparently even more excited at the prospect of the first Quidditch game of the season being during a thunderstorm like this one. For them, it meant that it would be more challenging than usual for the players. And of course, the rest of the Slytherins were just as hopeful as Vesperra was to see Gryffindor lose, and possibly one or more players fall off their brooms. It was at this that they were ironically impartial, because Slytherins would want to see anyone of any House but their own get badly hurt in a thunderstorm.

Though it was early, more people than usual were in the Great Hall for breakfast—it was likely because they all wanted to have more time to talk with their friends from other Houses about that day's match and to fill up on food before heading out to the stadium. This left Vesperra hardly any time to eat alone without being bothered by Malfoy and the others.

"Morning, Grease-perra," drawled Malfoy as he approached the section of the Slytherin table that the third years usually inhabited, with Crabbe and Goyle at his sides—Vesperra wasn't looking at him, but it was to be assumed even without the tell-tale low-pitched chuckles that often accompanied any remarks made by Malfoy. Having him greet her in such a would-be casual way was never a good sign, so Vesperra braced herself for whatever insult was about to follow, looking only at her plate of eggs and kippers.

"Why so unresponsive?" jeered Malfoy. "Upset that you didn't get to sit through Professor Snape's Defense lesson yesterday?—I heard he was filling in for Lupin…" he added at the sudden gasps and confused looks from the other third years while he sat down.

Vesperra froze for a fraction of a second, but didn't say anything back. She remembered what Severus had been trying to accomplish yesterday, and wanted to know whether it had worked. So, she tried as hard as she could throughout breakfast to eavesdrop on nearby conversations to see if she could pick up the words 'Lupin' or 'werewolf,' or any others that would pertain to the matter at hand. Even though Vesperra knew it was unlikely any of those who had been in Severus's lessons had done much of their werewolf essay (or _any_ of it) and would even have half-formed theories in their mind yet, she wanted to make sure. If she _did_ hear something that proved Severus's plan was at least beginning to work, then she'd be able to tell him during or after the Quidditch match.

Well, more likely after, because Vesperra doubted they'd be able to hear a word of what the other was saying over the booming thunder overhead.

It was partially for this same reason that she didn't hear anything of interest from anyone at the Slytherin table, neighboring tables, or anyone passing by—most voices were drowned out by the deafening noise from outside the castle. Everyone either had to speak very loudly or when they were very close together, so it was really no use to try to hear anything from more than a couple feet away. But at least Vesperra hardly had to try to not hear anything her fellow third year Slytherins were saying about her—if they even were insulting her in favor of talking about Quidditch.

They did, however, move into the topic of Severus having filled in for Lupin yesterday, but much of it wasn't what Vesperra was hoping for. It was everything she'd expect them to say, and clearly they hadn't heard any werewolf-related rumors.

"I wonder what's wrong with him…." said Daphne, with an air of very slight concern.

"I hope it's something deadly," said Malfoy to a murmur of mixed agreement and apathy. Vesperra suspected that those who didn't seem to care about Malfoy's remark were simply pretending not to like Lupin so they weren't insulted in turn. Actually, she figured that she, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy must have been the only ones in the year that truly hated Lupin.

"He's not up at the Staff Table," said Blaise as he glanced, seemingly bored, up to the row of teachers. "Why don't we have Grease-perra go check on him in his office so she can catch whatever he has?"

"I would agree if there wasn't the chance she'd give it to all of us," said Malfoy, though with a smirk.

_They wouldn't be saying that if they knew what I'd find if I went inside Lupin's office, _thought Vesperra darkly as she scowled more deeply at her plate. _Well, only if I went in there last night…_ _And even then, nothing would have happened to me, since he'll have taken the Wolfsbane Potion. _She considered involving herself in their conversation and attempting to hint to what was actually wrong with the man, but she couldn't think of any proper way to do so without directly giving it away. And the only thing keeping her from telling them all exactly what Lupin's 'illness' was, was the fact that Severus had made her promise not to before the start of term… but he must have wanted to let the information slip even more than she did.

The conversation quickly slipped from the topic of Lupin to a different one, so Vesperra wouldn't have had a chance to hint at the man being a werewolf anyway. And the howling of the wind now muffled it so much that she could hardly tell whose voice was whose without looking up from her plate—which she wasn't going to do.

"I hope Snape gets to teach Defense longer…."

"Lupin better stay sick, then."

"But then who would teach Potions?"

"I dunno… But it'd be easier for Dumbledore to get a new Potions teacher than a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, wouldn't it?"

Vesperra found no reason to listen any longer at this point, so she detached her attention and let their voices melt into the resounding thunder while her mind drifted further away from reality and more into her own ambivalence about Severus teaching Defense.

If his plan worked and Lupin was forced to quit, _would_ Dumbledore let him continue teaching Defense and abandon his Potions post? She couldn't even be sure as to whether or not that was likely, because Dumbledore had always held out for someone other than Severus no matter how difficult it became to find a willing person. Nothing Dumbledore did had any rhyme or reason to it, though, so no possibility was any more probable than another.

As much as she hoped for Lupin to leave, Vesperra was truly concerned about the possibility of no longer having Severus as a Potions teacher. Part of it, as she only just realized, must have been because Potions was her best subject, and doing so well in it had been one of the things that Severus liked so much about her and therefore the main thing she took pride in. But Defense Against the Dark Arts was what Severus liked even more than Potions, and Vesperra was subconsciously afraid that he would like her less because she didn't do as well in Defense as she did in Potions.

Perhaps having Severus as the teacher would automatically make the subject her best one, though… Well, Vesperra knew that, if everything went his way and he ended up switching positions on the staff, she'd make sure that Defense became her best subject. There was no doubt that he'd teach things differently, and of course much better, than her past few teachers—and, subconsciously, she was sure that he'd favor her when it came to things that weren't obvious to everyone else.

But Vesperra pushed those useless worries aside and returned to the present moment, for it was nearly time for the school to be heading down to the stadium, which she knew because of the growing restlessness of the Great Hall. At that, she figured that she'd eaten enough, and stuffed the last of her toast in her mouth before getting up to return to her dorm for a minute and get a coat, because there was no way she could manage it outside without one.

If the other Slytherins had questioned why she was leaving, she didn't hear them, nor did she look back after starting to walk across the Great Hall to the entrance to the dungeons. Some other students were leaving as well, and even more of them now that she was doing it; they all realized that they must not have very much time left to get properly dressed for the storm before heading out there.

Once in her dorm, Vesperra threw open the top of her school trunk and pulled out the standard school winter coat for the first time this year, as well as her gloves and Slytherin scarf, and quickly put them on. And then, as she made to shut her trunk, she stopped and pushed it fully open again at the sight of a box that had been lying on top of her coat and slid underneath when she had pulled it up. Next to it was a paper bag that had also slid under—a Honeydukes bag.

The box of Chocolate Cauldrons hadn't been opened yet, and the bag of Honeydukes candy was still mostly full, with only a Blood Pop missing from it (for all she knew, at least—if Millicent hadn't been going through her things). Vesperra had been so caught up with stressing out about Sirius Black—even more so than the rest of the school—that she had completely forgotten about everything she had bought at Honeydukes.

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she bent down to grab the box. Like all other Quidditch-match days, she would be spending the time afterward with Severus, so she figured that she could share the Chocolate Cauldrons with him. It would be a good way to celebrate after Gryffindor lost, or to eat their stress out if Gryffindor won. Either way, she knew Severus would like them because of the firewhiskey.

It wasn't a particularly thick box, so she could fit it inside her coat without it looking as though she had an odd-shaped lump on her front. In fact, it sort of worked to balance out the weight on her ribcage, because her journal was in the pocket on the other side. Still, she'd have liked to shrink it to make it easier—but she didn't know Shrinking Charms yet.

Making a mental note to learn them a soon as possible, whether or not Flitwick would teach them how in a few weeks, Vesperra took a few Blood Pops and stuffed them in her outer pockets. She wanted to see if Severus would like them.

At that, she checked to make sure her wand was in her sleeve as usual, shifted her coat slightly to make it more comfortable with the box of Chocolate Cauldrons stuffed in there, shut her school trunk, and turned around to leave. The Common Room was getting full, as more and more Slytherins were heading down to their own dorms to get their things, and others were returning from just having done so. No one seemed to notice her, which was a rare thing to happen when Vesperra passed through the Common Room. She exited with a small crowd of students, and made her way up to the Entrance Hall.

Students and teachers were walking out of the castle through the great oak doors, which were opened only slightly in order to let in the least amount of wind. Filch was struggling against the battling winds that were trying to blow the door on the right all the way open, and several students were laughing at his red face while the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, mrowled loudly and walked around his ankles, probably upset by the rain. Many of the students and teachers were carrying umbrellas, facing them with a tilt towards the oncoming wind in order to prevent them from automatically being whipped from their hands once they got outside.

Even more reluctant to abandon the dryness and warmth of the castle, especially without an umbrella, Vesperra frowned and pulled her hood over her head. She tilted her head downwards as she stepped out into the storm, and suddenly felt the force of the wind pushing her back. It was strong enough to blow her hood right off, and she had a half of a face-full of the sharp, stinging wind and the heavy rain. It hit the top half of her face, which wasn't covered by her scarf. Groping wildly behind her for the loose hood, she pulled it back on and this time held it there as tightly as she could.

Like much of the rest of the school, especially the students that were smaller and lighter than her, Vesperra walked against the wind, feeling as though it might lift her off her feet at any second. Around her, others were doing essentially the same thing, except they had umbrellas to cling onto. Above her, the rain was coming down so hard that it almost felt to Vesperra as though she was being pelted with rice.

Getting more soaked by the minute, both from the soles of her feet upward as the watery mud sloshed up at every step she took and from the head downward from the rain, Vesperra hurried as fast as she could down to the Quidditch stadium. Right then, she was really wishing that she had an umbrella like the one that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were sharing just a ways ahead of her, or that she knew how to cast the modified Shield Charm that Severus had used last year, which would keep her dry. At least her coat was thick enough to keep her knickers from getting soaked through until she was nearly there.

When she made it inside the stands, she continued walking (granted, it was easier now that she wasn't going _against_ the fierce winds) in order to find Severus before the match started. She kept to the back rows, figuring that that's where he would be and that it'd be easier to see him from up close through the thick gray lines of rain obscuring her vision. Everyone else seemed to have found their friends before leaving the castle, which was indefinitely the smarter thing to do, but Vesperra couldn't have walked with Severus down to the stands, so she had to make do with her circumstances.

While walking up a set of wooden stairs for the fourth time, Vesperra strained her eyes to look around for Severus. He shouldn't have been hard to find even in the storm—he was tall, lean, and his prominent nose would stick out anywhere. Just as she neared the top and started to turn, she got wrong footing and suddenly slipped on the very wet and slippery wood.

Her right hand automatically shot to the thin barrier that separated sections of the stands, but there wasn't anything sticking out that she could hold onto to keep from falling. Rather than hitting the wood with a sharp thud, however, her side fell into something soft. A moment later, Vesperra realized that a pair of strong arms had caught her.

* * *

Alarmed yet at the same time sure it would be the person she hoped it to be, Vesperra whipped her head around at once and saw Severus's face, pale and easily visible from this close.

Relieved that he had been there to catch her, Severus gave her a tiny smile of his eyes, and lifted her up back to her feet. He hardly let go of her when he made to sit down in the very back row, as his arm was more wrapped around her than it was simply guiding her by the small of her back. But it was only a second's walk, so it hardly mattered. Vesperra let him take her to the bench, and didn't speak until he did.

"Are you alright?" he asked, quietly as possible without the storm being able to drown him out even with him only a few inches away.

"I'm fine," said Vesperra, "thanks to you. How did you know it was me, anyway?—You were directly behind me."

"Hold on—" Before responding to her, Severus extracted his wand from his robes, and gave it a long, complicated wave. Seconds later, they were both protected from being soaked further by a shield that covered both of them and moved to adjust to their bodies. The air within an inch from every spot on their bodies was dry, and the rain simply bounced off that shield. He then pointed his wand at the people sitting in the rows ahead of them and muttered, "_Muffliato,_" so everything he and Vesperra said would become nothing but buzzing to them. Vesperra stayed silent the whole time, patient for him to be finished. After Severus returned his wand to his robe pocket, he turned back to her.

"I saw part of your face when you turned," came his belated reply. "I was already starting to head up the stairs as well, and I hurried up when I saw you were about to fall. It was rather lucky, since it saved me time in looking for you as well as the obvious reasons." He thought of mentioning that her question implied that she assumed he wouldn't have stepped forward to catch anyone else, but that assumption would be correct, so he decided not to.

Some light reached Vesperra's eyes at this, and she said, "Thank you, again. And I was looking for you, too, you know…. We need to plan ahead about where we're going to sit the next Quidditch match."

"We do. But the weather isn't likely to be this bad by then, so it won't be as difficult to find each other."

"As difficult as it was just to get up here," said Vesperra, "I'm a bit glad for the extreme weather. At least no one can see us in this darkness…."

Severus reached for her hand at once and held it behind the bench, silently agreeing with her. It was so dark at the present moment that you'd have thought night had come early. The clouds blocked every last source of sunlight, and with the majority of those in the stands wearing black or other dark colors (dark green for him) or with umbrellas above their heads, it all looked like a wave of darkness under extremely dim lighting.

"No one can see much at all," he said. "It'll be a job for everyone just to see what's happening in the match. Speaking of which, I think it's about to begin…."

Squinting hard, they could see the outlines of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams walking out onto the pitch in the distance, the Hufflepuffs easier to see because of their canary yellow robes. Lee Jordan's beginning commentary was greatly muffled by the howl of the wind and fresh rolls of thunder, as were the cheers and hisses from everyone else in the stands. For once, neither Severus nor Vesperra were subjected to the annoying cheerfulness and excitement that came with a Quidditch match, but they'd almost prefer it now that they could hardly even hear each other.

The players rose into the air, and the distant commentary came broken between loud cracks of thunder. "And—off!"

Severus instinctively tried to glance towards Potter, but he could hardly tell which player was which before they formed their usual spots. He knew the burly figures that had immediately gone to cover the goal posts were obviously the Keepers, Wood and Bletchley, and the rest of them were already flying past each other about forty feet above the ground—except for two, who were soaring a good ten feet above everyone else. The one in the darker-colored robes would be Potter… and he was flying somewhat awkwardly.

Smirking, as he knew it would be virtually impossible for Potter to score Gryffindor a win in these conditions, he shifted his focus to the players at eye-level, straining both to see what was going on and hear Lee Jordan's voice over the rumbling of the storm.

There was then a merciful few seconds where it wasn't difficult to hear the commentary; it was still, however, very muffled, and a little broken.

"—Bell scores, or is it Spinnet? Can't—tell, but—points go to—Gryff—"

Groaning inwardly, Vesperra tried hard to continue following the teams with her eyes. She wasn't even sure whether that had been the first score or not…. And as her eyes gradually got better adjusted, the sky got even darker, and the air less balanced and fiercer. The Shield Charm worked against both the rain and wind, so her and Severus's hair was lank (albeit soaked and sticking to their faces) as ever, but they were probably less able to hear what was going on than everyone else.

In another five minutes, at least one more goal had been scored for Gryffindor, several of the red and yellow blurs out there had come quite close to colliding, and the players were proving much less adept at dodging Bludgers than usual, since one of the Hufflepuff Chasers had been hit in the stomach (but hadn't fallen off), and Potter as well as others had only narrowly escaped being unseated by them. Vesperra hoped one of the Gryffindors would get hit soon, preferably Potter….

After what felt like several minutes of sitting in the stands, frozen in the cold, and watching the shapes of the Quidditch players zoom around seemingly without rhyme or reason and slowly become blurred together, the commentary was finally more than muffled sounds for another few seconds—"Sixty to ten, Gryffindor…"

_Damn,_ thought both Vesperra and Severus at the same time. How could Gryffindor possibly be winning? They could easily imagine the looks of indignation that would be on the Slytherin team's faces right now, but it wasn't at all as amusing as it usually would have been.

Soon, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the pitch and the stands, and Severus and Vesperra had a moment's view of what was going on in the game. Just then, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and it sounded extremely distant, almost like a bird's call, among the claps of thunder. The red and yellow shapes flew down and landed, and Vesperra could see the Gryffindors heading for a spot under a large umbrella at the edge of the field.

"I think they've called for a time-out," said Vesperra, though more to herself, and not loud enough that Severus could hear her. Both of them were glad for it, anyway, because they could give their eyes a rest.

"Either Potter or Diggory better catch the Snitch soon," grumbled Severus, leaning backward. Vesperra looked up at him. "It's only going to get darker throughout the day, and it's only going to become more difficult to see anything…. If they don't catch it soon, we'll be out here for hours until one of them catches it by luck. And frankly, I'd like to get out of this rain as soon as possible."

"It'll have to be Diggory who catches it," said Vesperra, briefly leaning on Severus's arm. "He's bigger—he's not swayed so much by the wind."

Severus squeezed her hand and hoped she was right, because the distant, shrill noise of Madam Hooch's whistle sounded again, and the players shot back into the air. Vesperra and Severus were alternating between watching Diggory and Potter, silently willing the former to find the fluttering golden Snitch, wherever it was—or either of them, really, anything to get out of this storm…

Another goal was scored for Hufflepuff, and Severus and Vesperra found their moods lifted slightly, but then there was a sudden clap of thunder that vibrated in their chests and forked lightning that illuminated the pitch again. This match was clearly becoming more and more dangerous, and the lightning was getting closer and closer. Sooner or later, lightning would strike one of the players…

Another strike of lighting, this time only lighting up the other side of the stands. In the next second, one of the yellowish blurs in the sky, which Vesperra and Severus were sure was Diggory, shot very fast in one direction, and another blur that could only have been Potter pelted after him. It seemed that the Snitch would finally be caught, that the game would be over—and whether or not Hufflepuff won, they would be able to go back inside and dry off.

But then, without warning, the temperature dropped to the lowest it could possibly go, and an eerie silence fell over the entire stadium. Though it was still clearly raining and windier than ever, there was no sound whatsoever except for the sharp intakes of breath around them—it was as though someone had turned off the sound. Both Severus's and Vesperra's breaths hitched in their lungs; this alone was suspicious and extremely foreboding, but it only worsened when they looked down at the grass of the pitch, and saw at least a hundred tall, black, hooded figures coming onto the field. They hovered creepily off the ground and the air around them was rattled, moving strangely as though being sucked towards them… Something _more_ was being sucked towards them….

_No, it couldn't be them… Why are they here?_

Severus and Vesperra experienced it at the same time, just as everyone else in the stands did. The cold hand of sudden hopelessness clutched their hearts and pulled it deeper inside of them, squeezing not the life out of them, but the happiness. Every part of their bodies was frozen—including their lungs, which were no longer capable of contracting, unable to draw breath… And their eyes were forced widely open, unseeing for all that was concerned, because they no longer saw reality…. They were drowning in their own memories, their own mentally-scarring memories that were the stuff of nightmares.

All in what was merely seconds, Vesperra was forced to remember the worst experiences of her life as they flashed before her eyes, jumbled together and yet each one clear and distinct, the awful feelings each their own. Her parents screamed at each other on the other side of the room, while all she could feel was the hatred radiating from them and how they must loathe her, how she would never, ever be loved… A whipping noise sharp as metal pierced the air, a flash of silver as she held her arm up to protect her face, and searing pain in her arm, creating the scar that had caused her years of anguish, and her mum didn't care, no, they couldn't care less about her…

The memory of Severus had been absent from her suffering mind, and she couldn't remember any of the help he had ever given her, any of the kindness or care or love he had shown her, or even his existence—until she was subjected to the sight of his dead body, which lingered above all the other memories. Now, all she knew was _dead Severus_,thinking he was truly gone, and that brought her worse pain than anything else, though she was now aware that he had once been alive and able to make her happy. His limp body, the blood he had been laying in and that was trickling out of the corner of his mouth, his unseeing eyes and face as pale as she must have been right now… those were all very clear before her eyes, and she had no recollection of the fact that it had only been a Boggart.

Despite being so far away this time, this many dementors at once had Vesperra feeling much, much worse than the one had done in the Hogwarts Express. Her mind reached such fathomless despair and hopelessness that several realizations became harsh truths—she was cold, unlikable, unlovable, and no one would ever care about her or feel anything less than hatred for her as she did for them… But she wanted to die, wanted to escape this feeling, wanted it to stop…

Next to her, Severus sat with equal immobility. His hand was still clutching hers, though neither of them could feel it. He saw and felt the most awful memories of being abused as a small child, and of being ridiculed and hexed by Potter and Black, and of losing Lily in his fifth year—the word 'Mudblood' rang out and echoed like some cruel demon's taunt, and he could only remember the anguish of making that mistake. All the while, jumbled in with his other memories, Voldemort thought the prophecy meant Lily Evans… Voldemort had _killed_ her… he went through years of absolute loneliness with nothing and no one to comfort him… he was watching Voldemort kill Vesperra, and he was broken. Utterly broken, just as he had been when he had watched that happen the first time.

Vesperra no longer existed except in the memory of losing her, even though that had, in reality, only been a dream. Severus couldn't feel her next to him—he could only feel the earth-shattering, agonizing pain of losing the only things he had ever loved, and the guilt of having indirectly caused one of their deaths. He felt undeserving to live after living a Death Eater's life, and letting his desire for acceptance make him push his best and only friend away, ultimately killing her.

And then, in the heart of it all, he knew that he couldn't have changed, not when Lily was the only thing that had kept him from staying a Death Eater. He had tortured people. He had watched many people die and done nothing about it. He hadn't switched sides out of the goodness of his heart, but for a single woman…. He really must have been Dark at heart.

Severus had no will to even believe this thought was wrong and that it was only the dementors that made him think it, and he was much too weak to pull out his wand and attempt a Patronus (especially with how unexpectedly and abruptly the dementors had come out onto the field, and how many there were), but he was still vaguely aware of the world outside of his head.

Neither he nor Vesperra registered it at first in their pathetic states, but one of the reddish blurs—a shape that resembled Potter as it grew larger in their hindered sight—fell straight down from fifty feet above the ground on his broom. It nearly jerked Severus and Vesperra back into reality. The outline of another shape, whose long, silvery beard, glistened almost fluorescently in the darkness, appeared on one edge of the pitch and waved his wand, causing what was allegedly Potter to slow down as he fell. Another wave, and a vast, silvery mass with wings appeared and seemed to charge down the hooded figures. They immediately flew away from the Quidditch pitch and back to their designated areas around the grounds.

The air grew warmer, and the wind was roaring once again, though not as loudly as it had been. Apparently the storm was dying down. It wasn't so dark anymore, and Vesperra and Severus, who were being released from ultimate hopelessness's clutches, could see Dumbledore in the distance, looking angrier than either of them had thought possible. The Headmaster then conjured a stretcher and magicked a seemingly dead Potter onto it, and, un-characteristic anger etched on every line in the old man's face, he returned to the castle with Potter floating behind him.

Meanwhile, Diggory was in an animated argument with Madam Hooch on the muddy ground, and it sounded something like, "Just reschedule the game and have a rematch then, it wasn't fair—he might be dead, and that's no reason for them to lose…."

But Madam Hooch told him that he caught the Snitch fair and square, and then signaled something to Lee Jordan, who spoke into the megaphone awkwardly and with a slightly broken voice after both the mass of dementors and seeing Potter fall to what was apparently his death.

"A-and… Diggory caught the Snitch. Huff—Hufflepuff wins, one-hundred and seventy to seventy."

There was an immediate silence at which everyone was sure the commentary was over for good, and, a great deal of them looking horror-stricken, everyone began to get up and leave the stands in favor of being within Hogwarts walls.

Slowly, Severus looked over to Vesperra. Her eyes were still wide and unblinking, and all the blood seemed to have gone from her face, for she was nearly as pale as the whites of her eyes. Her lips were not twisted into a scowl, but were trembling at an expression of pure, unadulterated despair. She was shaking horribly, and her chest was moving only slightly for the limited breath being drawn in and out of her lungs. Her face was wet, not with rain but with tears that had forced their way out while the dementors had forced her to relive too much pain at once.

"Severus," said Vesperra in a hoarse whisper as she saw him looking concernedly at her and felt his hand again. A bit of warmth was suddenly present inside her at the sight of him. She wanted so badly to lean against him and just hold him for a long time, but all around her, people were leaving their seats and walking out of the stands. That was one of the few rational thoughts able to squirm into her brain at the moment.

He was looking just as awful as her—the numb pain of everything Severus had felt just then was evident on his face, and there was no hiding it. It was to be expected, anyway, since he had never experienced the effects of a hundred dementors at once. He doubted anyone but those in or having visited Azkaban ever had. And what was worse, Potter had apparently been affected just as much, and had fallen off his broom. Dumbledore had slowed him down, but had the old man been too late? Was Potter… dead? He couldn't be—he just couldn't be, or Severus would have failed, all because of a Quidditch game….

At that, he was finding himself quite as furious as Dumbledore must have been that the dementors had come onto the pitch, but it was a furiosity that felt weakened amongst the residual stiffness and pain from the dementors. Feeling hopeless, now that he was half-sure Potter was dead, and yet not showing it, he stood up and pulled up a shaking Vesperra with him. He realized that he was shaking and had unknowingly cried as well—but no one would be able to tell, since it was still raining.

"I'm sorry, Vesperra," he urged softly in spite of his own worries and pain, "but we have to go. Come on."

She nodded, though with difficultly, and walked with him down the wooden stairs and into the mass of students and teachers returning to the castle. Severus let go of her hand, for others would see, but he stayed next to her—their coat hoods were still pulled up over their heads, so it would be difficult for anyone to tell it was them unless they turned around. Those around them definitely didn't look as horribly affected by the dementors as Vesperra and Severus were, but some looked more shaken than others. What really seemed to be bothering them more than anything, though, was Potter having fallen off his broom and appearing to have died. However, most of the Slytherins seemed rather gleeful as they trudged back up the muddy slope.

On the way, Severus repeatedly tried to convince himself that Potter wasn't dead, that Dumbledore must have saved him, and that the boy had only gone unconscious because of the dementors. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that he was alive, because Dumbledore had slowed Potter down so that he didn't collide hard with the ground. He couldn't have fallen to his death…. Still, the only way to be sure was to wait, and Severus couldn't abandon Vesperra and go pass by the Hospital Wing.

Exerting too much pressure on his muscles made him ache after being frozen and numb for all that time, but he still hastened to get back through the front doors and into the Entrance Hall and, without stopping for even a second, down to the dungeons. Vesperra kept up with him as best as she could, but she was still shaking. The two of them arrived in his office dripping wet, and Severus wasted no time in casting the usual Imperturbable Charm then automatically dropping to his knees in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he said softly, removing his gloves and holding her face with one bare hand. He stared into her eyes with as much care and concern as he could muster, and Vesperra seemed to calm a little at his touch, but she frowned at him. "Ah—stupid question, I know. I'm sorry. Just… let me dry you off."

Vesperra continued to stay silent, but gave him another small nod. Severus inhaled and pointed his wand at her robes, while hot air emanated from the tip and dried them off. She watched him, paying only vague attention, and focused instead on trying to right her irregular heartbeat.

After a few minutes, when he finished drying her off, Severus told her she ought to go sit down on his couch, and dried himself off as well. He left both of their hair wet, so he could brush it like he had last time. Just as he took off his coat and sat down with her, Vesperra finally spoke.

"Why… why did the de—_they_ have to come to the match, Severus?" she asked quietly, not really expecting him to give her an answer. She had simply needed to say it out loud.

Giving her an extremely apologetic look, he grabbed her hand and gently pulled her towards him, indicating that she could scoot over to his side of the couch with him, and needn't sit alone on the other side. She wasn't at all hesitant to do so, and willingly sat as close to him as possible without sitting on his lap. Not that she was against sitting on his lap.

"I don't know," said Severus, throwing his left arm around her waist and pulling her tightly to his side. "Nor do I have any idea why they would have left the entrances to the grounds without—"

Something sharp dug into his left side, and he loosened his grip on Vesperra, realizing that it must have been something in her pocket. She didn't need to ask him why he was frowning down at his side, for she had felt the uncomfortably sharp pressure on her ribs as well, and knew at once what it was.

"Oh—" Scooting an inch away from Severus so she could reach into her coat pocket and pull out the offending object, she removed the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, and felt rather awkward all of a sudden. "I… I brought them… to the match," she explained, feeling strange and almost guilty for this whimsical decision after the horde of dementors having been at the game. "I got them from Honeydukes—and thought we could share them… afterward, to celebrate," she finished lamely.

Reading the label on the thin box she was holding, Severus narrowed his eyes and then widened them slightly again.

"That's perfect, Vesperra—did I never tell you that chocolate helps cure the effects of dementors?" He held his hand out for the box, which she handed over.

"It does?"

"Yes—and it's a rather good thing you decided to bring these with you…." Severus opened the box and handed her a Chocolate Cauldron. "You'll feel much better after eating some… especially with the firewhiskey in there."

Part of her wanted to argue that being near him long enough would have essentially the same effect, but the rest of her wanted to quit shaking as soon as possible, so she took it and bit into it. The effects were instantaneous; her heart felt suddenly much warmer, and she didn't feel so stiff anymore. The firewhiskey in it added sort of a fiery flavor to it, and eased some of her headache. But she was still considerably pale, and still shaking. She stuffed the rest into her mouth.

Taking a Cauldron for himself, Severus stuffed it into his mouth and set the box on his lap while he pulled Vesperra close again. His left arm hugged her waist once more, and his right hand brought her head to his chest, and was holding the side of her face.

"Better?" he asked once he'd finished chewing his Chocolate Cauldron, craning his neck downward so he could press his cheek to the top of her head. All he wanted to do right now was make sure that she was okay, and that she wasn't still suffering, even though he was. The chocolate had, indeed, worked a bit on him, though.

"Yeah…" said Vesperra hoarsely, pressing herself further into his side. But in truth, being with him was working better than the chocolate. The things she had remembered because of the dementors played over and over in her mind again, and she had no strength to stop them.

Though not quite believing her, he turned his head and pressed the bridge of his nose into her hair, and said gently, "Would you like me to brush your hair, or do you want to leave it as it is for now?"

Both of them knew that she'd very much like to leave it as it was so she could just sit like that with him for a while, but Vesperra, reluctantly, nodded her head slightly. "Sure, you can brush it." She pulled away from him and turned as his grip loosened on her waist once more, and he turned as well and sat cross-legged on his end of the couch.

Severus summoned a brush from his room, and pulled her closer to his crossed legs by her waist. Before starting to run the bristles through her wet hair, he pulled it all behind her neck and said, "Eat more of them. You'll feel better."

Still finding it difficult to breathe, Vesperra removed another Chocolate Cauldron from the box and bit into it, once again feeling slightly better. As Severus felt the same way, he took another as well and then began brushing her hair. By the time he finished and dried it with his wand, he and Vesperra had gone through most of the box, but were still feeling very cold, almost nauseous, and hardly in the mood to do anything. But rational thought could find them now, and Severus willed himself to stay capable of comforting Vesperra.

As Severus took care of his own hair, she emotionally folded into herself, still not speaking, or even breathing regularly. Vesperra was in this state for so long that she lost track of time, and a pair of arms unexpectedly, yet softly turned her around so that she leaning against the back of the couch once again.

Looking down at her face, which looked rather gaunt, Severus could see dark shadows around her eyes—so dark that they might have caved in; and she looked dead. It frightened him how horribly the dementors had affected her, but then again, some pretty awful things had happened in her past… definitely not as bad as his, though. He couldn't remember ever feeling like that before in his entire life, not even when he had discovered that Lily Evans was dead. This had been that pain amongst many other agonizing memories. And now, he was dreading to hear or see what had become of Potter after he fell, but for some reason, Vesperra was more important to him at the moment.

Reaching out somewhat awkwardly, he hugged her and began rubbing soothing circles on her back and gently pulling her head to his chest again. For her comfort, he pulled her legs up by the back of her knees (as he felt grabbing her thighs would be inappropriate) to cross over his, so that she could sit sort of long-ways on the couch while he held her.

Once again, Vesperra didn't speak or question what he was doing, but she didn't need to, because she already knew what he meant by it. All the while, she watched his face, and noticed that it was generally impassive, as though this were a routine thing for him to do. Well, this wasn't the first time something similar to this had happened, but it didn't happen necessarily often.

She felt a new warmth spread in her chest as his hand started moving in circles on her back, and as her face was pressed into the chest of his robes. Involuntarily, she took a sharp and brief intake of breath, because her legs were pulled up into his lap.

"You'll be alright, Vesperra," said Severus, looking down at her and exhaling deeply.

She stared back at him, and neither of them could help but wonder what the other remembered when in the presence of a hundred dementors, and yet neither of them actually wanted to know, for the horrors both of them had experienced were worse than most people's.

The softness in his voice gave her the will to speak again, though it was still somewhat hoarse, and in a whisper. "I really hate them, Severus… I hate them so much…."

He could only assume she meant the dementors. "So do I," said Severus quietly, briefly squeezing her tighter. "They're the foulest things in existence. I doubt anyone else feels the way we do because of them.…"

"I hate the way they make me feel," admitted Vesperra, somewhat ashamed. "I… they make me feel weak, and I'm just nothing anymore, and—and with a _hundred_ of them—" She cut off on her own, and Severus, even more concerned for her, gently hushed her and held her head closer to his heart, which was still beating erratically.

Burying her face in his chest, she continued so that it was only just audible, "—I remembered my Boggart again, Severus…. I had to see you… dead…_ again…._"

His heart stopped for a second, and the beats were heavier when they resumed. This was on the track to being the night after the Boggart lesson all over again, and he didn't want it to turn into that. However, Vesperra was not crying, but simply void of happiness, and detached from herself at the present.

"I did, too," Severus said into her hair as he lowered his head. "Among other things…"

For a moment, Vesperra was confused, but then she realized that he must have been forced to remember the nightmare he had once had. She felt immensely sorry for him, and was sure he was feeling the same way for her right now. Slowly, she lifted her head off his chest and looked at his face, still unsmiling but now with the tiniest bit of life back in her blue-greenish grey eyes.

Severus raised his eyebrows slightly, silently asking "What is it?" as he brushed the backs of his fingers on her cheek. He was glad to see that she no longer seemed as emotionally dead as she had been.

Perhaps it was the fact that she was curled up against him, or because he was providing the means to escaping the desolate state the dementors had put her in (however slowly), or because she knew he was trying his hardest simply to make her feel better while he had been affected just as badly, but Vesperra suddenly had an undeniably strong urge to seize his neck, pull him forward, and kiss him—never before had the urge to do this been so great. A kiss from him, she was sure, would make all of the residual pain (and absence of feeling that coexisted with it) from the dementors go away. And she had felt a great rush of affection for him that hadn't stopped, because of how much he clearly cared about her. He was proving the horrible thoughts that had come into her head because of the dementors wrong.

It was painful not to act on this urge, but not at all because she was struggling to exert control over herself; it was actually quite easy to control herself. Vesperra was merely kept from doing it out of insecurity and fear that he would be confused or angry, and also because she wasn't stupid. She didn't act on whims like this. But she still wished he would kiss her (which wasn't too unlikely, since he had done it last time).

"I…" Vesperra started to say, but then trailed off slightly at the realization that she'd nearly said "I love you" to him. As perfect a time that would have been to tell him (if she was ever going to tell him), she couldn't say it, and for the same reason she couldn't bring herself to kiss him. So she continued with something that wasn't at all a lie. "I want to learn the Patronus Charm, Severus."

Rather than being at a loss for words, he was actually not very surprised. Still, he shifted in his seat, and rearranged his hold on her.

"It's quite unlikely you'll ever be forced to be near so many dementors at once again, especially since Dumbledore will see to it that they never come on the grounds again," Severus told her, "and it's extremely advanced magic, but if you really would like me to teach you…"

"Could you?" said Vesperra, the desperateness obvious in her voice.

Severus completely understood how much of an overwhelming desire she must have to avoid ever feeling the effects of a dementor again, and he didn't want her to feel it, either. But of course, knowing how to cast a Patronus wasn't always helpful, Exhibit A being the Quidditch match that had just occurred, where at least a hundred of the rotten, hooded creatures had appeared without warning and he had been caught off-guard, unable to do anything about them. Either way, he did not argue with himself about this, for he had already made his decision the moment she had asked.

"Of course I will," said Severus. "It may take a while, though, possibly months…"

"I don't care," she said firmly, though not defiantly.

For the first time since before the Quidditch match had even started, which now felt like ages ago, Severus felt close to smiling. It had been because of the cold determination in her voice, and the faintest hint of a glint in her eyes. That was _his_ Vesperra, ruthlessly determined to be on top of everything, just the way he loved her….

Still rubbing her back comfortingly, he took her left cheek and the bottom of her chin with the other hand and held it firmly, yet gently at the same time, as he arched his neck downward a little and pressed his lips to her forehead. It was a kiss to reassure her of his belief in her, to make her feel better, if possible, and simply because he wanted to. Both of them desperately needed that, anyway.

A half a second later, which was long before Severus had planned to be finished tenderly kissing her forehead, the previously empty grate across the office erupted in green flames, there was a rushing noise, and before Severus's lips were even detached from Vesperra's forehead, Dumbledore stepped out of the bright green fire, not looking as furious as he had seemed earlier, but still powerfully angry, and started talking immediately.

"I've just come back from the Dementors," said Dumbledore quickly. "But really, Severus, I thought you'd have been the first person to come and interrog—"

The old man stopped short when he actually focused his eyes on Severus, who was not alone like he must have presumed, but with Vesperra, and with his still outstretched lips only an inch from her forehead while his hand still held her face. She turned her head to see Dumbledore as well, half-angry at the Headmaster for intruding on this, and half-guilty for apparently keeping Severus from something he was supposed to do.

Severus pulled his face away from Vesperra's forehead, but did not loosen his hold on her, as much as he hated for Dumbledore to show up unannounced at a time like this and to find him in such a position. Though Dumbledore knew how close they were (probably not to its true extent, though), Severus didn't like for anyone but Vesperra, and that included the old man, to see him as anything but a cold, secretive, slightly cruel man that didn't have a heart. The truth otherwise was only for Vesperra to see.

"I would have," said Severus calmly, frowning, "but Vesperra needed me."

Instead of being angry or stern or saying anything like "Your duties come first, Severus," Dumbledore grinned warmly at them, and said, "Of course, perfectly understandable—I apologize for showing up so suddenly." His strikingly blue eyes twinkled at them, as though he knew something they didn't. "And I apologize, though I can't truthfully say it is my fault, for the dementors having shown up at the match," he continued, giving a sorry look to the both of them, presumably noting how they were still rather pale with shock. "I assure you, they will not enter the grounds again."

"Well," said Dumbledore, without waiting for a response, stepping back towards Severus's fireplace and reaching for some Floo powder, "I believe I have intruded upon you two for long enough. If the information concerns either of you, Harry Potter is alive. Now, I must go write a letter to the Minister. He will want to hear about this."

Grinning at them once more, he threw the powder into the grate, stepped in, and said, "The Headmaster's Office!" With that, he spun into the flames like he was being sucked down a drain, and disappeared.

There was silence for another couple seconds, in which Vesperra could feel the spot where Severus had started to kiss her tingle. The silence was ended by her muttering under her breath, "Crazy old man…"

"I'd have thought you were used to it by now," Severus replied, not as curious about Dumbledore's behavior as she was, especially since he knew why the Headmaster had told them that Potter was alive. This information made him considerably happier, because now he needn't worry about the possibility that his life had just lost all meaning and the fact that he was comforting Vesperra rather than doing anything about it.

"You're right," Vesperra agreed, leaning her head against his chest once more. "I'm not even going to try to understand why he was grinning at us like that."

Severus had an idea of why, but he didn't feel like sharing it. He didn't have a chance to, anyway, because Vesperra then said, "I wonder what Potter sees because of the dementors, if it's bad enough to make him pass out and fall off his broom. Even _we_ didn't actually go unconscious…."

It wasn't for any concern for Potter that she had said that, but she couldn't help but be curious. At the beginning of the year, she had heard from Malfoy that he had passed out on the Hogwarts Express, and since then she regularly saw Malfoy taunting him about it. If _her_ memories weren't enough to make her pass out, then what could Potter have possibly remembered that made it worse for him?

"Potter's weak," said Severus, a hint of loathing in his voice. Abusing Potter made him feel even better, now that he knew for sure the boy was perfectly fine. "He has no force of mind, and no drive to quit feeling sorry for himself. Either that, or you and I are particularly emotionally strong."

"Likely both," said Vesperra. She didn't feel so bad for having felt the way she did because of the dementors, knowing that she could have easily felt worse. It must have been, as Severus said, her strength of mind that kept her from feeling worse.

Now that they were both steadily calming down, it was almost as easy as usual to breathe, and much of the blood had returned to their faces. Even so, they stayed in the same position, and reflected silently on how this day had ended up so horrible, and so early in the day.

"At least Gryffindor lost the match," said Vesperra, the thought lifting her mood so abruptly as though she had only just remembered this. However, though this was what she had been looking forward to since yesterday, it no longer seemed a cause for monumental celebration. Perhaps it was because of the knowledge that she'd have traded the dementors showing up for Gryffindor winning if she had the chance. "And Potter fell of his broom," she added, with slight satisfaction in her voice.

It was clear to Severus that Vesperra would have preferred for Potter to die, but he stayed silent on that part. He was, though, very glad that Hufflepuff had won and Gryffindor didn't. Slytherin just might win the House Cup this year.

"It sort of evens things out, I suppose," he said. "But falling into a state of ultimate despondency was quite a high price to pay for it."

Vesperra sighed against him in agreement. Severus glanced down to his left, where the box of Chocolate Cauldrons sat open on the couch; it was empty but for one. Without thinking about it, he reached for it with the hand that he had been rubbing Vesperra's back with.

"There's one Cauldron left," he said with the air of obviously asking whether or not she wanted it.

"You can have it," Vesperra told him without lifting her head up to look at him.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." She felt sure for a moment that Severus was going to insist, or possibly break it in half and give one of them to her anyway, or—the thought came to her wildly—hold it in between his teeth and gesture for her to take the other half with her teeth as well, then bite into it and kiss her at the same time…. She preferred the last possibility, not that it was very likely. But her heart rate sped up at the thought.

Severus did, indeed, think about breaking it in half, but that would have been pretty messy, so he settled for just eating it himself. They really weren't that big, anyway. And he honestly didn't think she was lying when she said she didn't want it—she was likely just full.

By the time they both had lunch, Vesperra realized that the Blood Pops were still in her pocket, but she figured those wouldn't make either of them feel much better, considering the circumstances.

* * *

The Quidditch match was the topic of much of the conversation in the following days, in which the Slytherins were simply beside themselves with happiness at both Gryffindor's defeat and the fact that Potter had nearly died. Once again, Vesperra found herself in the predicament of choosing whether to side with Malfoy or Potter, because the former was constantly making jokes about the dementors and, despite whom they were mocking, she didn't find them funny at all.

Actually, she'd have liked to know what Malfoy had felt like during the Quidditch match. But then again, what could a rich, spoiled, pureblood prat like Malfoy possibly have in his past that would cause him any grief or suffering?

"I figured you and the dementors would have been best mates," jeered Malfoy during lunch the day after, when Vesperra's expression at something that everyone else had laughed at made it clear that she hated the foul things. "After all, you both suck the happiness out of everything, you both enjoy despair and suffering and all that, and you're both the things anyone would least want to kiss…."

The rest of them continued comparing her to a dementor for much of the hour, and Vesperra was almost disturbed by the number of valid similarities there were.

On Monday morning, Malfoy arrived at breakfast with his bandages finally gone, as he apparently considered this good timing. It was even more obvious now, though. If Vesperra had been faking an injured arm specifically to bring Gryffindor down, she'd have kept it on for at least another week to make it more believable.

"Yes, my arm's finally strong enough to use again…." drawled Malfoy to an elated Pansy. "Of course, my father's inquiry hasn't gone unnoticed, and it'll take effect in no time—Hagrid'll be fired soon enough. And good, too, because I've had enough of flobberworms."

"You heard him, Grease-perra," said Tracey haughtily, "so leave the table."

While the rest of them were laughing, Vesperra was reflecting on how ironic it was that the one time someone at the Slytherin table had literally told her to leave, she couldn't. She wasn't going to do anything they wanted her to do.

She only stood up from the table when the majority of the others did as well, to leave for their first lesson of the day, Potions.

* * *

Severus didn't mind the Sunday full of grading homework and potions brewed by the students in class, since he had already spent much of his time lately with Vesperra. In fact, a few hours of simply focusing on written words and possibly corrosive (depending on whether they had been done wrong) potions was rather good for him. Thinking up fresh comments full of snark was a good stress-reliever as well. And all the while, knowing that Vesperra was now fine eased his mind and kept him calm.

That evening, however, he noticed that something was different at the Staff Table as he walked into the Great Hall, and did a double take—Lupin was sitting in his usual spot again and still looking rather sick, yet cheerful. Severus sat down with a scowl, knowing this meant he would not be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again on Monday.

He hadn't been expecting otherwise, but even Severus was prone to being slightly disappointed at being denied what he wanted so badly, especially after having gotten a little taste of it.

Just to make sure, he spoke directly to Lupin afterwards, something he never would have done otherwise.

"Yes, Severus, I do believe I will be quite able to teach tomorrow," said Lupin, though in a kind—almost sympathetic—voice rather than an annoyed one. "I'll need to take my potion more often, next time, though— I felt rather horrible yesterday and have been trying to catch up on grading all afternoon."

At that, Lupin left the staffroom, and Severus found himself almost considering purposely messing up the Wolfsbane Potion next time, but only so much that the symptoms would cause him to miss work every full moon. But that could be disastrous, so he would never do it.

At least he had still had his chance to try to encourage some of the students to discover Lupin's secret on their own. There was still plenty of time to see if it had worked, and Vesperra could even help him with this, so it wasn't with too much resentment that he returned to his room that night, and resumed teaching Potions the next morning.

* * *

**I think it was particularly easy to write this chapter because I get carried away in describing things like the effects of dementors and the time that Severus and Vesperra spend together. But anyway... any guesses as to what Dumbledore was grinning so much about? ;)**

**Also, I've noticed that you guys are reviewing less and less. _Pleeeeeaaaassseeee_ review! Please.**


	39. Book 3: Chapter 11

**Yay, new chapter! And in case you haven't see it, I drew a picture of Vesperra and Severus as jaguars, which I posted on both my DeviantArt account and my HP fanpage on Facebook, the links to both are in my profile. Also, I did the math, and realized that, if Book 3 and the upcoming books don't end up being longer than twenty chapters each, I'll have gotten at least halfway through Book 6 by the end of next year. Isn't that awesome?**

* * *

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Weasley."

Severus glared down his hooked nose at the mop of red hair with anger that he truly felt for the boy with white-blonde hair, a pointed chin, and juice from a crocodile heart splattered on his face across the dungeon. Ron Weasley's freckled face was not looking back at him, but straight ahead, presumably to hide his anger and avoid losing more points for his house.

Now with the full use of both of his arms, Malfoy had been spending much of that morning's Potions class doing dementor imitations towards Potter, whether or not he thought Severus was nearby. Frankly, it angered Severus that the kid was too spoiled to be affected enough by the dementors that he would understand that they're not something to joke about, even to an enemy. Or perhaps Malfoy _was_ affected, but he was just a hypocrite.

If that little shit had known what happened to Severus from the presence of a hundred dementors, he wouldn't have dared done any of that. And if he had known what happened to Vesperra, he'd be doing it even more. As much as Severus loathed Malfoy at the moment, he wasn't going to punish him, because that would completely defeat the purpose of acting like Malfoy was his favorite student.

Potter and Weasley, however, were Gryffindors; though he knew Malfoy deserved what he got, he would not tolerate any insolence (in this case, flinging a crocodile heart across the room) from any Gryffindors, especially not those two. It was another excuse to take House points from them, anyway.

As he moved his gaze from Weasley, he let it linger on Potter for half a second, and stalked away. The nearby Slytherins sniggered and grinned appreciatively, and Severus caught Malfoy's malicious grin out the corner of his eye as he passed him. He resumed his usual prowl through the desks, and wondered whether Vesperra was aware of what had just happened.

She could have easily been the one to throw something at Malfoy from across the room after being fed up with the dementor imitations if she had seen them, and if she had, Severus would have been forced to give her detention. At least that (hypothetical) time, he could have made sure to not make the same mistake he had done last time that would make Malfoy suspicious again.

Severus was sure that Vesperra would be angry or at least frustrated if she had seen that, since she loathed when Malfoy was treated well even when it was in favor of Potter or someone else she also hated, so he hoped she hadn't.

And she hadn't, actually. Vesperra, who was paying close attention to brewing her Muscle-Growth Potion, had, indeed, heard Severus take fifty points from Gryffindor, but she didn't turn around to see exactly why. She rarely took her eyes off her work unless she wasn't preparing ingredients or stirring at the time.

The squelching noise, which was rather muffled at a distance of at least twenty feet, didn't register to her, so she had no idea that a large crocodile heart had hit Malfoy full in the face courtesy of Weasley—in fact, she simply assumed that the ginger had talked back to Severus after he made a snide remark about his abysmal potion-making skills.

Smirking at that, she continued slicing her crocodile heart for the potion. However, it was proving rather difficult with how slippery the heart was and how small her hands were. Sooner or later, she figured, she would be unable to hold it still on the table, and would end up nearly cutting herself. Well, she was wearing her dragon-hide protective gloves because of the corrosive ingredients, which wouldn't be easy to cut through even with a lot of force, but that didn't make it any less inconvenient, and she didn't want to risk it anyway. Pausing a moment, she tried to mentally work out a solution that would make it quicker; though it could possibly have taken more time to come up with something than it would to just get on with cutting it in spite of the slight difficulty, she wanted to have something figured out for future situations. Planning ahead was a habit of hers, especially in Potions, which she had been a natural at from the beginning.

Vesperra knew that the reason the Muscle-Growth Potion called for a single crocodile heart was because it would contribute to protecting the internal muscles from infection—and she had never had a chance to thoroughly study crocodiles, but she knew from the studying she did and books on Potions she read to quench her occasional boredom that they had a particularly strong immune system, and that it was much more effective at warding off diseases than a human's immune system. If that were true, then it was really only the blood from the crocodile heart that the potion needed.

The idea that immediately sprung to her mind would not only make her time easier now and in the future, but it should also increase the strength of her potion. And again, she paused, with her hand hovering right over the heart, pondering on the possibility that too much of the crocodile's blood would react badly with the other ingredients.

_Perhaps,_ Vesperra thought, _if I just added an extra half-spoonful of doxy eggs, it would stop any inflammation from happening because of the crocodile blood.…_ But she wasn't completely sure on this, and if she decided to do it, there was a small chance that it might go wrong—not disastrous, but it could end up worse than it would have been if she just followed the directions exactly. Then again, when and if Severus questioned her about her less-than-perfect potion, she could tell him that she was experimenting and he would surely understand. Even if it ended up causing her cauldron to foam up or explode (though she knew it couldn't have), the worst that would happen in the long run would be that she'd have a "detention" with him, and would be taunted a bit worse than usual for a week by Malfoy and the others about how she had finally done something wrong.

On that thought, she decided to trust her judgment and allow herself to take the small risk. Carefully poking her knife into the side of the crocodile heart to make a sort of series of slots in order to make it easier to hold without having it slip out of her hand, Vesperra jammed her gloved fingers into the slots and held the large, dark red organ above her cauldron. She began to squeeze as hard as she could, trying just as hard not to let it squirm in her grip and shoot out of her hand; juice was squeezed out of it and into the previously pale yellow solution within her cauldron, reminding her wildly of squeezing juice from an orange.

"Miss D'Monicas, _what_ exactly are you doing?"

Even after hearing it virtually every night for over a year and generally always in a friendly tone towards her, that voice still managed to make Vesperra's heart stop when it showed up unannounced and inquired something so suddenly. She ceased putting pressure on her now nearly shriveled crocodile heart, and turned her head to the left to see Severus staring down his hooked nose at her.

Trying hard to look at him the way a student was supposed to look at a teacher (especially _him_) rather than the way she often looked at him, and to not think about how attractive he looked from this angle, she said, "I'm squeezing the blood from my crocodile heart, sir."

Severus had been observing the work of the other students, most of whom were about three-fourths of the way done, and had approached the only table with only one cauldron, on which Vesperra worked alone, to find her, for once, not following the instructions from the book. He wasn't so much angry as he was curious and—though it hadn't yet been decided, since she hadn't explained it yet—awed at her ingenuity.

His voice hadn't been kept down when he asked her what she was doing, so the students that were sitting nearby had stopped what they were doing to look up from their cauldrons hopefully and watch Vesperra get told off, with the same enthusiasm that all the Slytherins would look up with to see Longbottom be mercilessly bullied. Of course, none of them had any idea that he had no intention to punish Vesperra, nor would he have done if she was making a mistake with her potion that had the potential to explode half the dungeon. And he had spoken clearly and not-so-quietly because part of him felt the need to show Vesperra off. Besides, voices echoed a bit in the dungeon.

He ignored the staring students as Vesperra told him just what she was doing, and arched an eyebrow.

"The instructions clearly state to slice the crocodile heart, Miss D'Monicas," said Severus, as more of a simple statement than an accusation or a sneer. With his arms folded behind his back as they often were when he observed the cauldrons during Potions class, he waited for her reply.

"Yes, sir," said Vesperra evenly, "but I thought that squeezing the heart directly into the potion would release more blood and juices than slicing it and stewing the pieces would—and that's the point of the crocodile heart, isn't it, Professor?"

He blinked. Severus could tell without looking that the students who were watching were holding their breath, as though waiting for him to lose his temper with Vesperra and insult her idea, and something told him Malfoy was watching from his cauldron twenty feet away as well. Rather than doing anything of the sort, he smirked very slightly, and there was a glint in his eyes as he bent forward that only Vesperra would have been able to catch.

"Indeed it would, Miss D'Monicas. And it's already clearly worked," he said, indicating the heart still in her hand, nearly deprived of all the blood within the artery walls and looking more like an overlarge, slightly moist bezoar. "But the completely undiluted blood would have the tendency to congeal, which would not be at all desirable for a potion such as this. That would likely speed up infection—and a possibly very harmful infection at that—rather than prevent it."

When he stopped speaking, the surrounding space filled with an air of a sort of heavy expectancy. Severus's dark eyes bored into hers as he cocked his head just a little more. This had not necessarily been an argument, nor had he been putting down her idea; there was, actually, a solution to the problem he just explained—he just wanted to see whether she had figured it out.

Vesperra's voice broke the silence in a way that made him sure that he would not be disappointed before she even had the chance to utter a full word.

"Not if there's an ingredient acting as an inhibitor, sir—and extra doxy eggs would serve that purpose, wouldn't they? Sir?"

As she said that, she arched her eyebrow in almost an imitation of his, but she tried to remind herself not to act too casual, since they were in a classroom, not alone in his office.

Raising himself slightly, Severus exerted a good amount of self-control to keep from grinning at her. He couldn't stop his eyes, however, from filling with pride—not for himself, but for her. His heart swelled with how suddenly proud he was of her, and how glad he was that she shared his love for and skill in Potions.

"And with the high toxicity level of Doxy eggs…?" said Severus, more quietly this time, knowing he needn't even finish his sentence.

"A half a spoonful should be under the limit that would cause the potion to turn acidic, sir," she said firmly, yet quietly. During Severus's pause after she explained her reasoning behind the doxy eggs, she had squeezed her crocodile heart as dry as it could go, and set the shriveled thing back on the table.

Severus glanced into her cauldron, which was now a smooth, dark orange, curry-like liquid. Glancing back at Vesperra, and then past her and at the students that were watching them, he exhaled and said, "Carry on, then."

He left her to finish her potion, and smirked inwardly as he saw the indignant expressions that were quickly repressed when the students saw him glaring back at them. There was no doubt that things had not gone the way they had hoped, but Severus felt no worry than anyone might find this suspicious; this hadn't been favoritism in the least. Vesperra was a Slytherin, so it should be expected that she would be treated better in his classes than the Gryffindors, anyway, and she was also a genius. So she would have been rather deserving of his respect even if he wasn't also her best and only friend.

It seemed that less than a fourth of the class had seen or heard any of that, since the conversation—for want of a better word—hadn't been that loud, so most of the students that hadn't been in the immediate area had been oblivious. Malfoy, however, was glaring at Vesperra with such jealousy and loathing that Severus felt angry upon seeing a look like that directed at her, and Granger, who was also sitting near the back, was staring in Vesperra's direction with a sort of confused expression.

Back at her table, Vesperra was adding her measured-out doxy eggs, and the potion quickly changed in ripples from dark orange to a few shades lighter, halfway in-between a cream color and the color of pumpkin juice. Satisfied with her work, and feeling quite proud of herself, she started clearing off her table. Once she had the mess cleaned up, she made to ladle her finished Muscle-Growth Potion into a flask, but before her hand could do more than twitch in the direction of her cauldron, she decided to reach for her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions _instead, which was lying open on the other side of the table, and the quill she'd been taking notes with.

Rather than writing it down on a scrap of parchment, Vesperra felt it would be easier just to make note of the change of instructions in the margins of her textbook. Perhaps Arsenius Jigger had thought it was more 'procedural' to slice the hearts, or perhaps he simply didn't think of squeezing them, but doing the latter had worked better for Vesperra, so she made sure she'd remember it in the future. Truthfully, she couldn't think of a scenario in which she'd need a sudden burst of physical strength and wouldn't be able to accomplish whatever tasks there were with her wand, so the potion didn't seem very useful to her, but it was always worth knowing how to do something perfectly.

"You should be finished with your potions by now," said Severus loudly to the class in his habitual tone as he walked slowly through the middle aisle of the dungeon. "Fill a flask, label it, and set it on my desk on your way out. And make sure to clean your desks and the area around it—for every puddle of crocodile blood I find, I will issue a detention."

His eyes flickered to Vesperra, who had already cleaned off her desk. He almost stopped walking abruptly when he saw what she was doing, and realized who it reminded him of.

She was bent over her table, the side of her face hidden by the curtain of hair that fell down in front of it and rested on the table. However, her hair didn't hide her hand, which was moving fast across the margins of her textbook, scratching something out. Hardly a few seconds later, she was finished and swiftly packed up her textbook and quill. Severus immediately glanced toward the small, mostly empty cupboard behind his desk, where his old, extremely annotated copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ was. Looking back to Vesperra, he saw that she was just finishing filling a flask, and then she got up to wash her hands at the basin in the corner.

He wondered, as he resumed sitting at his desk, whether Vesperra would end up experimenting and improvising more often like he had done as a student. But whether or not this would be merely an occasional thing, he couldn't help but feel very proud of this likeness in her. In fact, he had half a mind to show her all the notes in his old potions textbook, so she could see why he would be so glad to see her doing the same, but there were curses in there that he couldn't let her see.

In his fifth year, before _Advanced Potion-Making_ had even been on the booklist, Severus had used the old copy his mother had given him as sort of an outlet for all his genius. All his spells and other ideas had gone in there, as he had been sure that no one would think to look in a potions book or be able to find out about his inventions—but of course, that hadn't been full-proof, because Lily had gone looking through the book one day, and _Levicorpus_ had eventually made it to Potter's ears, who then used it against him….

But surely Vesperra wouldn't get the idea to do the same. That would be quite unlikely… and besides, she had promised him to try to avoid anything Dark, and she had only created one curse in the past. If she ever created another spell, it would likely be something useful rather than dangerous, and he wouldn't mind that at all.

Interrupting his train of thought, the bell rang, and Severus watched with his usual glowering expression as the students filed out of the room and set their flasks on his desk as they passed. Vesperra, though she was the closest to the door, trailed behind everyone else, clearly taking her time. As she passed his desk so slowly that the air around her might have been as thick as syrup, she glanced at him with a look that was wondering whether he was going to say anything to her.

The heavy door shut on its own, and the resounding thud and click echoed throughout the dungeon.

"You're brilliant," said Severus simply and at once, reclining in his chair and allowing himself to smile at her. When she raised her eyebrows slightly at a loss for words, he continued, "That was absolute genius, Vesperra."

"I—thanks, Severus." Her eyes lit up in the sort of smile that only slightly reached her lips, and her chest grew warm at his compliment, especially since it was just for the sake of complimenting her.

Realizing that he might have just made things awkward for her, he scooted his chair forward and said casually, "Well, you don't want to be late to your next lesson…."

"If I am," said Vesperra with mock-annoyance, "I'll have the excuse that Professor Snape kept me after to compliment my potion-making skills—like they'd even believe that." She began walking towards the door, and smirked at him.

"Actually, I believe I was complimenting your intelligence overall, but I agree that they wouldn't believe that excuse. Have a good day, then."

"You too, Severus."

And so she left the dungeons for Ancient Runes, which was several floors above, knowing that neither of them were very likely to have what could be considered a "good" day.

* * *

The rest of the day had been relatively good for Severus, though it could have been better if he had not had to teach a lesson with the second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws; it included Luna Lovegood, who always very nearly blew up a cauldron in his classes. But other than that, it wasn't much different than the usual.

After the afternoon lessons were over and everyone in the castle was headed down to dinner, Severus passed through the staffroom as usual so he could enter the Great Hall through the door behind the Staff Table. But he didn't even make it a few steps into the paneled room before he was stopped by a loathed voice—

"Severus, I'd like a word with you."

Lupin stepped in front of him, both his posture and his voice serious, though he wasn't intimidating in the least, with dark shadows beneath his eyes and his shabby robes hanging so loosely on him that he might not have eaten in a week. This reminded Severus of what had happened at this same time and the same place several weeks ago, but he doubted Lupin's reason this time would be similar, since his tone was much different.

Furrowing his brow both in curiosity and annoyance (he hadn't expected to be held up before dinner), Severus gave a noncommittal jerk of his head and followed Lupin to the same corner they had spoken in the last time. He vaguely wondered if he would end up sweeping himself out of the room in a cold rage this time as well.

When they stopped at the corner of the staffroom, Lupin calmly waited for the last of the rest of the staff to leave before speaking, which didn't take long.

"Severus," said Lupin firmly once they were the only two in the room, "you know you had no authority to assign essays while you were only filling in for me." He paused at that, leaving Severus time to arch an eyebrow at the man's scarred face.

That couldn't have been all Lupin wanted to say, or else the man wouldn't have appeared to be suppressing a bit of anger. And he even had a very good idea about what the werewolf's problem was, but nevertheless, Severus said silkily, "Neither Dumbledore nor I had known whether or not you would have been fit to return for work today, so at the time, I had every right to think that I might have continued to fill in."

Lupin gave him a wry smile, but it was quickly replaced with a frown.

"You have me there, Severus," he said calmly yet with a slight edge, "and I'll admit it was my fault that I was sicker than usual, but it's another thing to skip seventeen chapters from where I currently am in the curriculum."

"Did I?" said Severus. "You left no record of exactly how far you were into the curriculum, so how was I to know? Surely I wasn't going to take the students' words for it—"

"You assigned them an essay on werewolves, Severus—how to recognize and kill them—and I know what you meant by it."

Lupin had surprised him enough by actually interrupting him, which he couldn't remember the man ever doing before, but it surprised him even further that the man hadn't continued, or even given him a dirty look. Lupin simply looked at Severus with mingled calm and annoyance, while he stared back with cold, narrowed eyes.

"You know very well that I don't trust you, Lupin—" Severus started to say, but was cut off again.

"But to practically break your promise to Dumbledore and expose me?" said Lupin, with almost a sad, betrayed expression lining his face, making it look even more scarred.

Severus was teetering on the verge of denying that he'd done any such thing versus admitting his motive for the werewolf essays, his arms folded across his chest and his uneven teeth clenched. In retrospect, he couldn't say that he never expected Lupin to have an inkling of his intentions, and whether or not the man knew about it didn't affect the plan in its whole. So he decided on the truth, and telling it in a condescending manner.

"No, never break my promise—I never outright told them what you are. I simply gave them the chance to find out for themselves what your symptoms mean. They'd have had to research werewolves sooner or later, and you can't stop them from finding out on their own. And from what I've seen and heard, no one's gathered as much yet, so nothing's changed."

He spoke the last two words with bitter disappointment, though it wasn't very evident in his voice. And he completely kept to himself the fact that by pushing the students in the right direction of realizing that Lupin was a werewolf, he might be close to breaking one promise to Dumbledore, but he was keeping another by indirectly protecting Potter.

"Well, I've told them that they don't have to do the essay, and it seems no one's finished it except Miss Granger, so I suppose there's no harm done," said Lupin, straightening up a bit. He still looked slightly angry. "But I hope you realize, Severus, that I didn't agree to teach at Hogwarts without knowing that I'd be running the risk of my secret getting out to at least some students. I'd prefer that it happen later than sooner, but frankly, I don't think the students would like me any less."

At that, Lupin managed a friendly smile, and walked away casually as though they had just been exchanging pleasant reminisces. As the man passed through the door to the Great Hall, Severus scowled, seething where he stood.

So if none of them had finished his essay but Granger, then there was almost no chance that his plan had worked. He disagreed with Lupin on that last point, though—surely plenty of students would be repulsed by the knowledge that they had been taught by a werewolf all year.

But perhaps he was hoping for too much. It was only a couple of months into the year, and there was plenty of time for it to happen. Of course, Severus hoped Lupin's secret would get out sooner than later. However, he knew for a fact that he would have no more chances to fill in as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, because Lupin would indefinitely do whatever he could to make sure he was well enough to teach every full moon so that Severus couldn't do something worse.

This had struck up a line between him and Lupin, which didn't necessarily separate them any further (since they could have hardly been called friends, no matter how much Lupin would have liked to set their difference aside), but at least the other man was now aware of the fact that Severus's attitude towards him was worse than a begrudging tolerance, however much the werewolf still trusted him.

Holding onto his one, last hope that at least Granger might have gotten a bit closer to Lupin's secret while doing the essay (and mentally berating her for her continued tendency to be an insufferable know-it-all nevertheless), Severus followed Lupin through the door and into the Great Hall.

* * *

After Monday, the rest of the week passed by smoothly for the both of them. It felt like so much longer than a week had passed since the castle had been searched for Sirius Black in the middle of the night, and much of the dread had even admittedly faded from Severus and Vesperra. The paranoia did not, however, cease altogether; Severus still kept as close an eye on Lupin as he could, and Vesperra listened in when she could to see if she could pick up the words "Lupin" and "werewolf" being used in the same sentence during a conversation.

In fact, Severus had told her about his confrontation with Lupin, and had asked her if she could do a bit of spying on Potter, Weasley, and Granger when she could—only if she wanted to, of course. According to him, rather predictably, he wouldn't want to ask her to put an extra weight on her shoulders, but, just as predictably, Vesperra was eager to feel like she was actually doing something and had gotten annoyed with him for thinking he needed to carry all the stress himself.

So throughout the week, several times in the corridors, during Care of Magical Creatures, in the library, and during meals if she could manage to aim her wand at them without a teacher noticing from up at the Staff Table, Vesperra used the spell that Severus had taught her—_Sonorego_—in hopes to overhear something significant about Lupin without being too close to them.

So far, all that she had heard about Lupin were good things, complimenting his intelligence and praising his lessons. Otherwise, Vesperra heard a lot of abuse towards Severus during their conversations, mostly from Potter but not so much from Granger, and it often almost made her angry enough to just end the connection of the spell. They insulted Malfoy quite a lot as well, but they often did it while putting down Slytherin House in general.

She noticed that Granger and Weasley bickered an awful lot, though less than they had when she had happened upon them in the bookshop in Hogsmeade. It was annoying to listen to, as was hearing Potter and Weasley talk about Quidditch. But she stuck through it, simply for Severus's sake and at the possibility that she would hear something worse hearing.

Vesperra had Ancient Runes classes with Granger, but that wasn't much of a chance to spy on her, since they were almost constantly writing translations and notes nowadays, a task that kept her so focused that she hardly noticed Theodore Nott's hand brush hers at least twice one day.

By Friday evening, she had used _Sonorego_ for a total of an hour and a half at the least, over half of that having been from the Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and could honestly say that she had learned more about Potter and his loyal sidekicks that she'd have liked to. Her Friday night slipped into Saturday morning with a feeling of refreshment after sleeping off a week of extra, fruitless work, and she passed right through her morning routine without being consciously present until she left her dorm and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Even then, she was putting up with Malfoy's insults, because the prospect of spending a better day with Severus than usual loomed in her mind like an admonitory figure, casting shadows on most everything else.

* * *

Severus had barely resumed grading an essay on the uses of Mediterranean plants that he had stopped in the middle of before going to breakfast when he heard the telltale knock that meant Vesperra was at the door. She hadn't written to him through the journals earlier to ask whether or not he minded her visiting, but he couldn't say that he was angry or even very annoyed—those essays could be graded later.

However, she must have noticed that he had hesitated to answer the door, because she asked, before he had the chance to close the door fully after she walked in, "I'm sorry, Severus—Am I interrupting something? I know I didn't tell you beforehand—"

"No, not at all," he lied, surreptitiously flicking his wand at the stack of papers on his desk so that they shot sideways into the nearest cupboard, leaving his desk free of the evidence that he'd been working. "I was beginning to get somewhat bored, actually."

Vesperra, not entirely believing him, instinctively glanced towards his desk, and Severus was thankful for his sudden idea to clear it seconds earlier. He knew it was better to lie in this case, because, even though he honestly preferred her company to a Saturday morning of grading, if he had said, "Oh, I was grading, but I don't mind setting that aside for a while," she would have felt bad and wanted to leave. Then he'd have insisted that she stay, and she'd have grudgingly agreed, but only after another few minutes.

It was strange how virtually all their arguments were started out of the both of them wanting to do what the other wanted to do, and not believing the other was telling the truth about what they wanted to do, then not wanting to be a burden on each other's happiness. Only once or twice had had actually gotten into a row that was caused by one or both of them being selfish or actually angry at each other.

When Severus finished casting the usual Imperturbable Charm, he plopped down on the couch, indirectly jostling Vesperra on the other end.

"So," he said as he sat, "is there any specific reason you wanted to visit today, or did you just feel like a day of leisure with me? Because I'm fine either, really."

Vesperra frowned slightly. "Actually, it is something specific," she said slowly. "A week ago, you said you'd teach me the Patronus Charm. Obviously that's not the only reason I came, but I figured now would be a good time to start…."

She trailed off, watching Severus's eyebrows raise a fraction, and wondering if he had completely forgotten. Unable to help feeling slightly hurt and even a bit guilty for Merlin knows what reason, she was ready to take it back and say something like, "But if you don't want to, or have other things to do, it's fine…"

But there was a spark in his mind like two circuits clicking together at once, and he recalled telling her exactly that. And he had an inkling of what she felt like saying because of the sudden falter in her expression, so he reached out to squeeze her hand.

"It is a good time to start," he said. "And I have no intention to break the promise I made to you, so I will teach you, no matter how long it takes. I suppose it's settled that I'll give you Patronus lessons every Saturday, then?"

Her heart springing back into life, she squeezed his hand back and nodded. Vesperra was sure she wouldn't have given up on her desire to learn how to cast a Patronus simply because of a moment of insecurity, anyway—she _had_ to be able to repel dementors in the future. Even if she didn't have to face another one for years, she still wanted to know what animal it would be—well, more of that she wanted to confirm her guess that it would be a jaguar.

Glad for this as an even better excuse to be neglecting the four-inch stack of essays now hiding in his cupboard, Severus immediately stood up, and tried to think of how best to start this. He had only ever taught Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, both of which were required classes and weren't anything close to teaching a single, advanced spell one-on-one.

Of course, he had taught Vesperra two other spells before, but both of those were of his own invention, and thus were very easy to teach. Neither of them had taken long, either, and the Patronus Charm could very well take months. As a teenager, he had taught many of the curses that he had learned from one of his mother's old Dark Arts books to his Slytherin friends (which he now regretted, as they ended up using them later on in their Death Eater years), and had even taught a number of defensive spells to Lily. Charms had been her best subject, so she had no problem with harmless spells, but he had been by far the best at Defense, and so she was better off practicing with him than anyone else. They had learned the Patronus Charm together as well, because the First Wizarding War had been threatening to happen during their school years, and dementors patrolling everywhere had been just as common then, if not more, than it was at the present moment, with Sirius Black on the loose.

Vesperra eagerly stood up with him (though she didn't have to, since he had already pulled her up), and watched his pensive expression patiently. At last, he refocused his eyes on her and said, "This will be slightly difficult, in a way, since I couldn't possibly bring a dementor in here for you to practice on—both because I can't subject you to that, and Dumbledore would be furious; so it won't be as realistic of a practice. But that will, technically, make it easier for you to conjure a Patronus without actually feeling the effects of a dementor."

"Okay…" said Vesperra, nodding affirmatively.

"Now," said Severus, unconsciously starting to pace as Vesperra's eyes followed him, "even when not in the presence of a dementor—or any other Dark creature that one may be attempting to use the charm against, a Patronus is extremely difficult to conjure, as it requires ultimate concentration. Of this, I have no doubt you would be successful…. You've better focus and strength of mind than anyone I've met besides myself—and possibly a few others. Still, it may be more energy-consuming than anything you have done before, so be prepared."

Nodding again, Vesperra silently agreed that she shouldn't have too much of a problem concentrating. She wasn't at all arrogant, but she took pride in her strengths, and focusing hard when others would be unable to was one of them. Severus continued to pace in front of her, and it gave Vesperra the urge to smile for some reason.

"The second thing that makes this charm so taxing," he went on, "is that it also requires a happy memory. As you and I both know, it is particularly difficult to recall anything good that's happened in your life when in the presence of a dementor. They suck everything out of you before you have the chance to think of anything that brings you happiness."

"Unless you're prepared for it," added Vesperra unexpectedly, to Severus's surprise more than hers. "If you know you're about to get too close to them, and you focus on the thought beforehand, I mean…." She trailed off again, slightly embarrassed, but then explained further at the sight of Severus's arched eyebrow. "That's what I did when I had to pass them on my way to Hogsmeade."

"If the person and thoughts are strong enough, then doing that without a charm can work," said Severus, having stopped pacing, and his eyes softening with impression. "But only if there are very few dementors present. Unfortunately, however, it isn't often that you would have the chance to strengthen your mind's defenses before actually closing the distance between yourself and a dementor—so learning to resist their effects when they show up unexpectedly long enough to cast a Patronus is essential. The thing is, you won't be practicing _on_ a dementor, so there's no way to practice doing that.

"Now, for the actual spell itself… It's well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level, but you've proven yourself to be capable of very advanced magic, so…" Severus coughed in place of finishing the sentence. The 'advanced magic' he had been referring to were the curses that Vesperra knew, and he was hoping the same rules would apply in reverse. Would she do as well in a charm that was meant to defend against all sorts of Dark magic as she did in Dark magic itself?

Deciding not to dwell on that and instead wait to see for himself, Severus continued, "The incantation is '_Expecto Patronum_.' And the wand movement is actually very simple—" He drew his wand and gave it a small whoosh, which Vesperra wouldn't even need to memorize, as it was a rather common wand movement. She muttered the spell under her breath a couple times, merely out of habit rather than in order to memorize or practice pronouncing it. Though she wasn't yet concentrating on anything, she could have sworn she felt a weak force make her wand shudder in her hand.

"The difficult part is thinking of a memory that's happy enough," said Severus. "Right now, it will be much easier than it would be if there were dementors now, but the same rules apply no matter where you are—the stronger the memory, the stronger the Patronus. And not just any memory will do—it must be an _extremely_ happy memory—the happiest one you have. A memory that you can't help but feel cheerful at every time you think of it."

The way Severus described it, Vesperra felt as though he already knew exactly what she was going to think of. For her, it was a memory that gave her the urge to smile no matter what was happening outside her mind at the time, and made her heart rate go up and her chest flush with deep warmth as well. Of course, it wouldn't be unlikely for him to know, as he was obviously there when he had kissed her about a month ago.

Noticing the sudden softness in her eyes, Severus wondered what her happiest memory was. He had an idea, but he really couldn't be sure… and it almost bothered him to think that him kissing her would be the happiest she had ever felt. It would only prove his suspicions and make him feel guilty for being an unobtainable object of romantic interest for her. He inhaled sharply, and continued as though there had been no pause.

"When you think of the memory, you have to concentrate hard on only that memory, nothing else, and allow it to fill you up with happiness from the inside. Then wave your wand, and say the incantation." Severus felt slightly odd teaching this charm now that he'd said that, since he and Vesperra were not generally happy people. But then again, they simply didn't show when they were truly happy except when in front of each other. "Now… I'll show you first, so you can see it being done before you try it."

His heart suddenly pounding, and a voice inside his head demanding to know why the hell he had just decided to show her when she'd be perfectly well off doing it without a visual, Severus drew up the happiest memory he could think of.

It wasn't the day he had met Lily, because that had only begun happy. Sure, he had finally worked up the courage (or rather, he had been unable to restrain himself) to talk to her, but because of her stupid sister, Petunia, things had ended badly that day. No, his happiest memory took place three days later, when Lily had returned to the park to seek him out, and he had begun telling her everything about the Wizarding world. That was the day they had become best friends, and as simple as it was, it was happier and more powerful than any of the other memories he'd made with her—even the few times that she had kissed him on the cheek and, once, on the mouth.

The memory filled every crevice of his being very quickly, and he focused as hard as possible; seconds later, Severus said, pointing his wand at nothing in particular, "_Expecto Patronum._"

What at first looked like an unfathomably bright flash of light burst forth from the tip of his wand, materializing instantly into a magnificent silver doe. Vesperra watched, transfixed, as the breathtaking thing seemed to look straight at her with its bright silver, long-lashed eyes, and bounded around the office. It left white streaks in Vesperra's eyes that she felt sure, at the moment, would never go away, though they disappeared as the doe slowed to a stop, as though making its final leap in slow motion.

The doe stopped in front of Severus, who stared down at it, his expression unreadable as he inhaled deeply. He continued to focus on the happy memory, which, essentially, was the doe's life force; she stood there just long enough for him to raise a hand to her head, and then dissolved into tiny wisps of silver as he willingly let go of the memory.

Severus still stared at the spot where the doe had been for the next few seconds, letting the fact sink in that he had just let Vesperra see his Patronus, especially after not having casted one for several years. He had already told her, but having her see the doe was so much different, so much more real…. He felt as though he might as well have told her his entire past now. Only Dumbledore had ever seen it besides him, as far as he knew, but now Vesperra had as well. Essentially, he had shown her everything about him—she just didn't know what it meant.

In the middle of a lesson of sorts didn't seem like a good time to cut off with the story of Lily and his life before Vesperra, so he didn't even consider doing so for more than a second before shooting down the thought. Instead, he looked to her, and saw that she was, too, staring exactly where the doe had been a moment ago.

Still amazed by the silver doe, Vesperra wondered desperately what Severus had thought of, and how it could have been powerful enough to create such a bright, solid-looking and lightheartedness-inducing Patronus. It was difficult to imagine him being so happy, but she reminded herself that she couldn't have been the only thing to ever make him happy.

"Are you ready to try on your own, then?" said Severus calmly, now that he'd forced his heart rate to return to normal.

Vesperra nodded. It did, however, feel strange to be practicing this charm inside Severus's office, which was far from being a cheerful place. Jars of eyeballs and slimy organs and tentacles and limbs of different creatures suspended in different color liquids lined the shelves on the walls, and the light was dim and had a slightly greenish hue due to the green light from the lake above filtering in through the slit-like windows in the ceiling. Nevertheless, this had been a place of plenty happy memories for her, so it almost had an uplifting effect, in a way.

Severus stood to the side to allow her some space, and watched her expression intently to see if her face would betray her and show how she truly felt while conjuring up the memory.

Her own heart was beating hard and fast now, but she ignored it. Very easily, Vesperra thought of the split second of heart-thumping confusion and slight thrill while Severus's face had grown ever closer to hers, and then the explosion inside of her as he had pressed his lips to hers. In this quiet, still environment, it felt as natural as breathing itself to concentrate on nothing but that memory and to let it fill her up. She quickly felt so close to bursting with happiness that the warmth from her chest had spread all through her body, and she wanted to clutch at her heart to keep it from shooting right out of her chest. At that, Vesperra gave her wand a wave and said in a voice much different than the one she used to utter a curse or any other charm, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Her wand did more than shudder this time; silvery-looking gas emerged from the tip of her wand, and appeared to be hovering in front of her, forming a sort of shadowy wall. But it wasn't very dense and definitely wasn't as bright as Severus's doe, and it disappeared after about twenty seconds. Vesperra's concentration had faltered at the sudden soreness and fatigue she felt, and she stared somewhat proudly at where her wispy Patronus had just been with a grimace.

"Excellent, Vesperra," said Severus in awe at how well her first try had gone. Not that he had expected it to be enormously difficult for her, but he definitely hadn't thought her first try would have been more than a brief wall of silvery vapor, either. "That was much better than I could have expected."

But, as proud as they both were, Vesperra did not turn to him and smile at his praise or even move but for her chest rising and falling, as she was still breathless.

"I wasn't focusing hard enough," she said more to herself than Severus, recalling how it had become very difficult to resist succumbing to the fatigue, even without a dementor around. Even now, she felt physically worn out from only using the spell for twenty seconds at the most.

"No—" Severus stepped forward and gripped her shoulder, and she seemed to relax at his touch. "Don't think like that. There's no need to be hard on yourself—Yes, you have no trouble concentrating on anything else, but you've never tried this before. You simply need to get used to it, and you don't need to practice constantly or else you'll overwork yourself…. Perhaps you should sit down for a minute—"

"I'm fine, Severus," argued Vesperra, reaching up to her shoulder where his hand was, and covering it with her own. "I don't need to rest—I'll just—try again. It's fine."

He regarded her silently for a moment, admiring her determination and at the same time sure that she would be physically and mentally exhausted by the end of the day. Vesperra's eyes flashed in a pleading way, and so he let go of her shoulder.

"Alright, if you think you're relaxed enough," said Severus. "I say you have two more goes at it, and then we'll relax from then until lunch. After you've had a filling meal, you can practice a couple more times, okay?"

She frowned slightly at the idea of only practicing a total of five or six times per week, and Severus apparently realized what she must have been thinking, because he said, "Vesperra, if you push yourself past your limit, you won't do as well. Anyone else would have had enough after three times a week. I did tell you that this may take several months for you to master."

"Okay," said Vesperra, defeated yet understanding.

"Good, then. Now, your happy memory was clearly excellent, so it's only your endurance that you have to work on for the time being. I know you're highly skilled in tolerating—emotional—pain, but physical pain is different." Severus had a fleeting image of Vesperra covered in bruises after what her mother had done to her during the summer, but forced it away. "If you're not tired now, you will be later…"

And so Vesperra practiced, pushing her levels of concentration possibly further than they'd ever gone, and listening to Severus's bits of advice. He was right, anyways, in that she was already tired after the third attempt; as much as she still wanted to keep going, she agreed to sit down and relax with him. After each attempt, it appeared that the silvery gas grew slightly thicker each time, but no closer to achieving a corporeal form. Lunch did, indeed, rejuvenate her a considerable amount, though she later left his office after dinner feeling drained, all the effort she had made that day weighing on her at the day's end.

Severus couldn't say that he was glad to see her leave, but he was half-grateful that he now had a chance to finish grading all the essays that he had neglected. There was always tomorrow, but he figured sooner was better than later. And he was grading into the night, but he finished with a sense of satisfaction, and wouldn't have to worry about it as he fell asleep.

It was with a heavy feeling in their bodies that both of them practically fell into their beds that night, and with such heaviness in their minds that they put it off until the next morning to think about each other's Patronuses and happiest memories.

* * *

The weather throughout the next week continued to prosper, and the Hogwarts grounds were bathed in misty light that greatly contradicted the darkness from two weeks previous. However, the courtyard and vegetable patch were still very muddy, and it was unlikely to dry up soon what with the occasional light rain.

There was another Quidditch match coming up, for the first time since Vesperra had started attending Hogwarts a Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw in only the second game of the season. As Vesperra hardly knew anything about the statistics of Quidditch and how this game would affect the Slytherins or Gryffindors, she didn't care half as much about this match as she did the other ones. Either way, it just wasn't entertaining to watch Quidditch unless she was actually supporting one of the teams.

But she planned on attending anyway, because she assumed Severus would be there. It would, though, be difficult for them to hide that they were sitting together, as they wouldn't be hidden by darkness or rain too thick to see through. But they had sat together on the first game of last year, and it hadn't been raining at all then, so she figured he wouldn't mind risking it again.

However, Severus was feeling ironically the same way she did: He would only consent to go if Vesperra wanted to, and he knew that she probably didn't. And he told her this on Thursday evening, when they had begun discussing Quidditch.

* * *

_**So, why is the second match of the season taking place so soon after the first? I don't see what that would have to do with dementors showing up to the first one or Gryffindor losing.**_

_I'm not sure, it was just Madam Hooch's decision. But I'd wager a guess on the fact that the schedule had to be changed in the first place so that Hufflepuff would play instead of Slytherin. They may have to switch things around when the matches are postponed. I just hope it works for Slytherin's benefit, because I've missed having the Quidditch Cup in my study the past couple years._

_**So**__**you actually have an idea of how the point system works? Because I don't.**_

_As someone who's been teaching here for the past twelve years, it would be a mark of great ignorance if I didn't. Well, I sort of do. I'm not exactly sure how the outcome of this match will affect Slytherin's chance of winning except for the fact that Ravenclaw would be much harder to beat. But that being said, it's a very low chance that Hufflepuff will win the upcoming match, anyway. It's pointless to even attend the game, really._

Vesperra's heart did a leap as her quill descended upon the page of her journal almost at once.

_**We can both just stay in your office during the match, then? I don't want to go, either—I really couldn't care less who wins, since I hardly give a damn about Quidditch.. It would be a boring game to watch, and we'd just hear about who won afterwards, anyways.**_

_I would like to stay inside and away from the crowded stands and noise…. Although, I have only failed to attend a Hogwarts Quidditch match a total of perhaps five times in my entire career here, and those were all because I had assigned detentions on those days. Generally, all teachers attend every match unless they're sick or unable for some other reason, but it's not necessarily mandatory, and no one will notice that I wasn't there._

_**No one would notice that I was missing, either. Even if someone was trying to find us but couldn't, we could be anywhere in the stands for all they knew. And I'm taking that as a yes, then?**_

_Of course. I've grown rather used to having you sit next to me during Quidditch matches, and I wouldn't go if you weren't. Either way, I didn't want to go in the first place. _

_**Excellent. And there'll be more time for me to practice casting a Patronus.**_

_It'll only make an actual difference for your practice if the game ends up lasting long, but otherwise, every minute counts. I have to start brewing the Wolfsbane Potion again on Sunday. Speaking of which, have you heard anything that would count as proof that my plan to out Lupin as a werewolf wasn't a complete failure?_

_**Sorry, but I haven't. I've heard some pretty creative nicknames for you, though. But you don't want to hear them.**_

_My plan was a complete failure, then. Well, I suppose it's useless to do anymore spying, since it's been two weeks since the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. If no rumors had started going around before, they're not going to start now._

_**It wasn't a complete failure, Severus, there's still other ways. And I'm sure you and I will be able to come up with them eventually.**_

_Now I know what we're doing on Saturday while you're not practicing your Patronus…._

_**Plotting? My favorite pastime. **_

Severus smirked, and they both soon went to sleep with nothing in particular on their minds; not even Saturday, because what they planned on doing wasn't at all out of the ordinary and thus not something they would necessarily look forward to.

* * *

Instead of heading out to the pitch with everyone else on Saturday morning, Vesperra and Severus hung back and stayed at the castle. It wasn't difficult; Vesperra retreated to her dorm halfway through breakfast, knowing that if she stayed she'd likely be questioned for walking in the opposite direction when everyone else started to leave, and Severus did the same, but to his office, and several minutes later than Vesperra so as to not raise suspicion.

When they were both sure that the rest of the school was just leaving the Entrance Hall if not halfway to the field already, Vesperra headed to his office and reveled in the silence of the dungeon corridors but for the echoing of her footsteps. It was usually like that in the dungeons, but now she knew that she was probably one of two people in the entire castle at the moment. She liked the feeling of having it all to herself, even though she probably wouldn't be venturing outside of Severus's office that day.

It was only out of habit that Severus still used the Imperturbable Charm on the door, and he was enjoying the sense of being more alone with Vesperra than ever before just has much as she was.

"Just in case, I suppose," he mused after stepping away from the door and towards Vesperra, who was still standing. "Would you like to start straightaway, or just sit and relax a while before trying to conjure a Patronus today?" he asked, his hand halfway to sliding his wand back inside his pocket.

"Start straightaway—how long have you known me, Severus?" said Vesperra, smirking slightly and drawing her wand from her sleeve.

Raising both eyebrows not in confusion, but amusement, Severus wasn't surprised that she'd chosen starting off her Saturday with possibly strenuous work over putting off that strenuous work. He looked to the upper left corners of his eyes as though trying to remember something, and said, "Oh, I think about… two years, one month, and… some amount of days. I'm not sure." Looking back to her, his black eyes glittered. "But I get your point. Start when you're ready, and we'll see if you've improved or otherwise during the week…."

Once again, concentrating hard on the pure, unadulterated euphoria she had felt coursing through her veins and recalling exactly how Severus's lips had fit into hers brought a powerful rushing feeling through her wand, and silvery gas emerged from it, bright yet immaterial for the most part. It was nearly the same as the way she had left off last week, though slightly less bright and not lasting as long. Although, it didn't cost her as much energy as it had before.

After the next few tries, punctuated by Severus's advice and encouragement, Vesperra achieved noticeably thicker gas than the previous try, and if she had not been trying to blink out the silver light burnt into her retinas at the time, she'd have sworn that the silvery shield was convulsing at the edges in the forerunning stage to forming an actual shape.

"That's enough for right now, Vesperra," said Severus as he quickly stepped forward to steady her after she had managed to keep herself concentrating on keeping the shield of silvery gas up for almost a minute long; when it dissolved, she had felt so dizzy that she seemed to be about to topple over. The look she shot him was somewhat mutinous, but it, too, dissolved when he said, "You're already progressing very fast, and like I've said, over-exerting yourself would only result in more difficulty. And you've already achieved a sort of a shield—one strong enough that it would keep dementors at bay for as long as you concentrate."

Standing up straight on her own, though still in Severus's grip, Vesperra felt better with the knowledge that she'd actually have a chance of keeping a dementor away. She was still a bit disoriented, though, and Severus could see it in her face, so he pulled her back to the couch, where she sat down next to him so quickly that it looked more like she had fallen, and she bounced a little.

"Do you want to lie down?" asked Severus softly, noticing that Vesperra was leaning far back into the couch. He didn't doubt that she was feeling extremely tired at the moment, and that she might have even fallen asleep if she weren't so determined to continue practicing later, when she had more energy.

Severus's long hair brushed against the side of her face as he turned his head to look down at her, and Vesperra felt the urge to smile. She looked back at him, realizing that her body language had likely given away that she would, indeed, like to lie down—if she would even permit herself to.

"No, Severus. I'm fine," she said, at the same time feeling her muscles groan inside of her.

His expression remained the same but for him lowering his eyelids in slight annoyance of Vesperra always insisting she was fine when she clearly wasn't. But he supposed he couldn't expect any different, and shifted himself further upright and back against the couch.

"Vesperra, if you don't want to lie down, why are you leaning so far back that you're nearly slipping off the couch?" said Severus, arching a sardonic eyebrow.

She threw him a side-glare with her neck at an angle, then stared at the corner on the opposite wall where the wall met the ceiling, as it was right in her direct line of view. "Because."

Instead of retorting, Severus reached around and grabbed both sides of her hips just below the waist (the bones of which stuck out so much that he almost cringed with pity), and pulled her closer to the couch so that she was sitting upright.

After getting over the sudden tingling and flush from Severus grabbing her hips, with his thumb just above her hip bone (which was rather sensitive), however briefly it was, Vesperra glared at him again. He merely stared back with a slightly amused expression, waiting for her to object to sitting upright.

A few seconds of silence passed in which neither of them even blinked, and then Vesperra let go the breath she'd been holding.

"Fine," she said shortly, shifting herself so that she was sitting long-ways on the couch with her feet outstretched on the empty space, and scooted forward so that she could lay down with her head in Severus's lap, all in one swift movement. Vesperra folded her arms over her stomach and looked up at him with the softest of smirks. It was odd to see his face from this angle—she could easily see right up his nostrils.

That wasn't exactly what Severus had thought she'd take it to mean, but he didn't mind.

"Now," said Vesperra before he could say anything, "you said that a sort of shield of silvery gas would repel dementors, and a full one would charge them down—so is there anything else Patronuses can do?"

Leaning forward a bit and supporting himself with his elbow on the arm of his couch, so she would be able to see his face more easily, Severus thought a moment. "Actually," he said, "there are. They can repel other Dark creatures—like lethifolds, and they can be used for communicating short messages. Dumbledore invented that usage during the First War, for communication between members of the Order of the Phoenix. But that's even more advanced."

"Would the Patronus have your voice when it communicated a message?" asked Vesperra.

"Yes—why?"

"I find it hard to imagine your voice on a doe. It's too masculine."

They both smirked, and Severus briefly wondered if he was one of very few with a Patronus that didn't match their gender. He probably was.

"I haven't used a Patronus for that purpose very many times. Now, I believe we planned on using our free time today for plotting…."

For a while, they racked their brains and made feeble suggestions, most of which would either rely purely on luck and chances or be nearly impossible to actually carry out. They were extending their minds into the air around them, grasping at straws; nothing that resembled a real plan came to them, not even after what felt like several hours of sitting like that, Vesperra lying with her head in his lap.

Absentmindedly, Severus had rested his hand on her shoulder, and started playing with the silver chain around her neck, on which hung a silver _S_. Vesperra found the feel of his fingers on her neck very calming, as it always had been.

When they realized that it was nearly time for lunch, they decided that they ought to get up and go eat, both because they were hungry and because they wanted to find out the outcome of the Quidditch match. It was with reluctance that Vesperra sat up, though she had returned to his office about forty-five minutes later wanting to resume practicing.

And apparently, Ravenclaw had absolutely flattened Hufflepuff, two hundred and thirty points to twenty. Both Vesperra and Severus were pretty sure that this hardly affected Slytherin, seeing as they hadn't played at all yet.

For the rest of the day, they alternated between Vesperra attempting to cast a Patronus and discussing tactics to surreptitiously reveal Lupin's secret.

"I suppose our best bet," said Vesperra well into the evening, her voice dripping in sarcasm, "is to find all the books on werewolves in the library and write 'Lupin is a werewolf' in them, then just wait for people to read them."

Severus snorted. "Madam Pince'll have our heads if she discovered that we'd written in a book. And it's more than likely that she'll have magical alarms put on them to tell her when someone 'befouls her precious books.'"

"Why not just implant fake memories into someone of them researching werewolves and finding it out on their own? You can do that, right?"

"Implanting fake memories is possible, but a memory mostly involved with the person's mind rather than actual actions would be extremely difficult. I'd only expect Dumbledore or the Dark Lord—before he was initially defeated—to be able to do that easily. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth the trouble, especially since we'd have to get an unconscious student to do this."

Sighing, Vesperra stayed silent for another couple minutes until she said, "Maybe we could trick one of the other professors to let it slip?"

"Hm… it's possible," said Severus slowly, "but I don't see how we could go about doing that."

"Alright then, how's this—we throw a ball down the corridors while Lupin and a load of students are in it, and he won't be able to help fetching it in front of them."

Severus exhaled sharply in place of a laugh, and smirked at her.

After the last time that Vesperra made an attempt at a Patronus that night (in which the gas was still not forming any shape, but she was able to keep it going for longer), she found herself lying on her back with her head in Severus's lap again. She'd have liked to fall asleep that way and just stay there, but he had brewing to start tomorrow.

"It's rather late," said Severus late into the evening with an air of having forced himself to say this. "You should get back to your dorm and get lots of sleep. You've had a long day."

She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it almost at once, as she knew he had things to do the next day and that she didn't want to keep him from doing them. Starting to sit up, she said, "Yes, I should."

Almost instinctively, Severus reached out and ran his fingers through Vesperra's hair a few times to straighten it out, for it had become a bit tangled in the time that her head was in his lap. She smiled a small smile at him, and stood up after he was finished.

"Night."

"Night."

* * *

Vesperra endured another three days of not only being unable to speak to Severus while he was brewing the Wolfsbane Potion, but also a haze of rain into December. At least it wasn't as heavy a downpour as it had been a couple weeks ago.

It was rather chilly and wet out on the grounds, but, considering the conditions Vesperra had grown up in, she was used to it. She was not, however, used to seeing Dumbledore at breakfast still with residual anger about the dementors. Luckily, his power as Headmaster was working to keep them at the entrances to the grounds.

On the first of December, the rain was coming down moderately hard on the glass ceiling of the greenhouses. Though Herbology was one of her least favorite classes, she liked the sound of rain on glass. The smell of rain mixing with that of the magical plants surrounding them was a rather good one, too.

Throughout the lesson, Vesperra kept getting hit in the back of the head with what felt like pebbles; they were actually the small bean-like inner pods they were supposed to be gathering. She knew from her first glance behind her that Malfoy was the one squeezing his pods so hard that the inner, slimier part of it shot out towards her, but ignored it and went on working with her own pods, not looking back anymore.

Every hit dug further and further into her temper until finally, one hit her hard enough that it actually popped with a disgusting pustule-like squelch, getting its dark green juice all over her hair, and she whipped around with an expression of rage.

A smug look plastered over his pale, pointed face, Malfoy was holding the outer shell of the pod he had just fired. Before Vesperra could do anything (not that she had even decided what she was going to do yet), Professor Sprout stepped out from behind her.

"Now, _really_, Malfoy!" Flicking her wand at Vesperra, Sprout cleaned off her hair, and then re-locked her narrowed eyes on Malfoy, with her hands on her hips.

"Oh—sorry, Professor," said Malfoy, his smirk having faded at once and turned into a looked of feigned innocence. "I must have squeezed it too hard…."

"Well, it'll be five points from Slytherin in any case," said Professor Sprout, straightening her patched hat and looking as though she didn't believe him. "And _do_ try to aim in your bucket next time!"

She walked away, and Malfoy gave somewhat of a disappointed grimace to Crabbe and Goyle, then shot Vesperra a glare that meant he must blame her for him having lost Slytherin House five points.

Twenty minutes later, the bell rang and dismissed them for break. Vesperra made sure to walk as far away from Malfoy as possible and to stay inconspicuous while the third year Slytherins trudged through the rain up the muddy slope back to the castle, so he might not notice her or purposely walk next to her.

Halfway past the pumpkin patches, Vesperra noticed a black dot in the gray sky above. In a couple seconds, it became apparent that it was an owl. That wasn't an unusual sight at Hogwarts in the least, so she paid it no attention, but in the next few seconds, it appeared to be descending.

And the owl was, indeed, flying down at an angle towards the group of Slytherins; they all stopped walking when they noticed the black owl above them despite the rain and knowing that they would only get wetter the longer they stayed outside. The owl landed on a particularly large pumpkin next to which Vesperra was standing, and held out its leg, which it held a tightly wrapped scroll in. Though the owl's feathers were flattened down somewhat comically with how soaked it was, the letter didn't seem to be getting a single drop of rain on it.

Staring at it, and then glancing to the others, who were gawping, Vesperra was sure it must have been for someone else… who on earth would write to her? Surely not her parents, or Mr. Borgin again? But the owl's large, yellow eyes were focused directly and impatiently on her, its leg held likewise. The rest of the Slytherins had obviously not made a grab for it yet only out of shock both that an owl would be delivering a letter in the middle of the day and to _her_ nonetheless.

Hardly a moment after she thought that, Pansy quickly dashed forward—but Vesperra was expecting it, so she managed to hit Pansy back and grab the letter from the owl in one move. The others looked indignant and ready to forcibly take it from her like they had tried to last time, but she stuffed it hastily in her pocket and hastened to the front doors. She ignored their shrieks of, "Who the hell wrote you, Grease-perra?" and walked on.

Once inside Hogwarts, she didn't dry off or even go down to her dorm first. Instead, Vesperra made for the nearest empty classroom and pulled the letter out of her pocket at once. It had apparently had been charmed with _Impervius_, because it showed no signs of being wet from the rain or being inside her soaked pockets.

Now that she was able to look at it closely with her hair, plastered to her head with rain, pushed away from her face, she noticed the dark green seal on it. And though she had never seen this seal before, she had a pretty good idea who it was from by the ornate _D_ on it.

* * *

**I wish I could cast a Patronus... too bad I'm only a Muggle. -_- But anyways... I bet you weren't expecting that at the end! And you know, I've been thinking, what do you guys think about me starting a forum for you all to discuss this fic? Tell me in your review!**

**Speaking of reviews, PLEASE DO IT. I want to know your thoughts and predictions! Every review I get gives me even more of an incentive to update faster!**

**Oh, and you can expect a new picture for this story to be posted on DeviantArt soon. I won't tell you what scene it'll be based off of, though... It's a surprise.**


	40. Book 3: Chapter 12

**Woot, early chapter! I was able to get over half of this finished on Columbus Day! ^_^ Anyway, I'll warn you that there's a distinct lack of Severus in this chapter, and I'm sorry. He has as much page time in this chapter as he does screen time in Half-Blood Prince... But I think you'll enjoy it nevertheless!**

* * *

Staring down at the scroll in her hand, Vesperra frowned and wondered what it could possibly be. But rather than wasting time thinking about it, slightly scared of what it might say, she didn't hesitate to open it.

However, she failed to slide her fingernail under the wax seal and break it open, because her habit of chewing on her fingernails had reduced them to useless nubs. Vesperra frowned a bit more deeply at her hand for a moment, silently noting that she should try to stop doing that.

So instead, she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and slid it, with slight difficulty, into the opening of parchment where the seal didn't stick it together, and then slid it sideways to break the seal. As it was rather tightly rolled, the parchment barely unfurled at all. Before opening it, Vesperra stepped away from the door of the empty classroom, which she had been leaning on, and made sure that it was locked. She didn't want any of the other Slytherins, who she wouldn't put it past to come looking for her, or a couple searching for somewhere private to snog to walk in on her.

When the doorknob would no longer turn in her hand, Vesperra held her breath and unrolled the parchment. It read:

_Vesperra,_

_I have something important that I'd like to talk to you about, but it's too important and too complicated to discuss over owl post. Can you send with return owl the date of your next Hogsmeade weekend, so we can meet in the Three Broomsticks? Also tell me the time you'd prefer we meet. Thanks._

_~Damien Gerard_

She couldn't say she had expected that, but in retrospect, there really weren't many plausible reasons for his letter other than that. For a couple seconds, her eyes lingered on Damien's signature, and she felt a bit strange knowing that he'd never told her his last name before. Neither had she to him, but he had likely assumed it was Lestrange, because of her ring.

However, if Damien wasn't very thick, which he wasn't according to what Vesperra had gathered, he would know that her surname wouldn't technically be Lestrange, since she would have most likely taken on her father's surname.

And as for meeting him in Hogsmeade, she had to ponder on it a moment to figure out whether she objected to the idea. Leaning against the wall, she slid to the floor and her hands fell to her lap while the letter curled back in on itself. She stared, unfocused, at the opposite wall, and thought about it.

There was her promise to Severus weighing on her, and she felt sure that this would be no innocent visit. Damien worked in Knockturn Alley, and specialized in Dark creatures—they had even met through one of his rarer, Darker creatures. If the reason for him wanting to talk to her had nothing to do with anything related to the Dark Arts, she would be quite surprised…. But she had told Severus that she'd avoid that sort of thing, and she would be walking right into it if she met with him. And he didn't even know of Damien's existence, so wouldn't it be better if she just avoided him altogether and tried not to get involved with anything important he had?

Then again, she owed Damien. Now that she thought about it, this was likely to be about a favor he wanted to ask of her in return for procuring her some Antimony several months ago. As cold and often heartless of a person Vesperra was, she could hardly say that she disliked Damien, or that she wasn't grateful for him having done such a monumental favor for her. It would be one thing to refuse to do something he wanted her to do, but to flat-out refuse to even show up and hear what he had to say? That would be both cowardly and probably dangerous to herself. He might get angry if she didn't meet with him, and who knows what he would do?

But that question would go unanswered, because Vesperra was in his debt, and she wasn't going to back out of doing him a favor he deserved without even knowing what it was—if that was even the reason he wanted to talk to her, that is. It still could have been something completely different.

With that, Vesperra made to stuff the letter back in her pocket, but decided a split second later that it would be smarter just to burn it, like she had done with the letter from Mr. Borgin last year. This way, it would be impossible for it to fall out of her pocket or be found by anyone else. As she stood up, she ignited the parchment with her wand and a muttered spell; it caught fire and was soon ashes on the floor, which she spread around with the sole of her foot so they wouldn't be noticed by the next person to walk in this classroom.

It was rather lucky, Vesperra thought as she exited the classroom, that Damien had sent the letter at the time he did, and that the timing made it so the owl had arrived in mid-morning just as she was outside and walking back up to the castle. Otherwise, it would have given her the letter at breakfast either that morning or the next, and Severus would have seen it and wanted to know who sent it. She wouldn't have been able to pull off the lie that her mum had sent it to her this time—not after what had happened during the summer. Her mother wasn't likely to ever speak to her civilly again, let alone send her anything while she was at Hogwarts.

The corridor she was in immediately after leaving the classroom was empty, but before making it halfway through the Entrance Hall, she was greeted by a dreamy voice.

"Hi, Vesperra."

Though it had been over a year since she had last heard it, she couldn't forget that voice. Despite her tendency to ignore anything and everything said to her in the corridors, which was usually jeering, she stopped and turned her head around instead of continuing on like she hadn't heard it at all. It was mostly because of the shock that she stopped.

To the right of her was Luna Lovegood, the second year Ravenclaw with straggly, dirty blonde hair and protuberant eyes, clutching several books to her chest in her arms. She was smiling serenely, which unnerved Vesperra, since not even Severus smiled in that way to her. It was extremely odd for someone besides Severus and Dumbledore to look at her with anything but disgust or a wicked smirk, and even odder for any other students to call her by her first name. The rest of the group of Ravenclaws she'd just been with were heading up the marble staircase without her, and the hem of the last one's robes whipped out of sight.

"What do you want?" said Vesperra rather rudely. The Lovegood girl's smile didn't falter, and she didn't blink, either.

"I haven't spoken to you in a long time," she said. "You're soaking wet."

Vesperra glanced down very quickly and scowled; she had forgotten just how sodden wet she was when she was reading Damien's letter. "I know," she growled, not sure why she was still standing here instead of walking to her dorm in the dungeons.

"The other Slytherins that walked by a few minutes ago were saying something about a letter that was just delivered to you."

Once again, Lovegood unnerved Vesperra with how she would say something almost completely random and irrelevant as though she were continuing a conversation.

"Yeah, well, they can't mind their own business. And I'm probably going to be ambushed with questions when I get back there—"

Suddenly, Vesperra felt something small hit the back of her head, and thought wildly for a moment that it was Malfoy throwing pods again. But before she could whirl around or her hand could even shoot to the back of her head, she heard yet another unwelcome voice.

"Greasy and Loony! The two freaksies are ickle best friendsies…!"

Peeves the Poltergeist cackled soared over them and threw more pebbles at her, which she jumped aside to dodge. Lovegood merely looked as dotty as ever, not appearing to care about Peeves's presence or the fact that some of the pebbles were hitting her.

"'Bout time you both made some friends, eh?" cackled Peeves, doing a sort of backflip in midair. And he began to say, in a sing-song voice, "Greasy and Loony, Greasy and Loooooony, Gre—"

But a thought had come very suddenly to Vesperra's mind, and she reacted quickly; in one swift movement, she had slid her wand out from her sleeve and pointed it straight at Peeves, who was too busy cackling to notice it or duck, hissing, "_Langlock!_" Instantly, the poltergeist's tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, and his eyes widened in alarm. His face contorted as he tried his hardest to free his tongue, but when he was unsuccessful, he threw Vesperra a scowl and soared away.

Almost completely forgetting about the girl next to her (not that she'd have cared about being polite if she wasn't in a worse mood now), Vesperra readjusted her bag over her shoulder and stalked away in the direction of the dungeons. Behind her, she heard a dreamy, "Oh, goodbye, then," but hardly registered it amidst the dread of what would happen the moment she set foot in the Common Room and the desire to hurry up and get dry before her next lesson.

* * *

Meanwhile, Severus was treating his non-Slytherin students a bit nastier than usual, as he was recovering from almost three full days of no sleep. He would have slept the night before, when he had been finishing this month's cauldronful of Wolfsbane Potion, but he had had essays that he had been unable to grade while he was busy with the potion, and needed to get them done before today.

For much of the day, he was worse than irritable and had made at least three students cry. It wasn't as satisfying as it normally would have been, though, and Severus wished desperately for classes to end so he could get some damn sleep.

There was, however, Vesperra to think about, and his temper admittedly soothed a little when he thought of the prospect of speaking to her as well. In spite of his tiredness, he would have to talk to her for a while before going to sleep. The combination of intentional insomnia and a lack of Vesperra was not good for him. His mental health was at stake.

Severus had two free hours of no lessons before dinner, a time in which he'd have liked to just take a nap—but he was sure that Lupin would be either knocking on his door or calling through the Floo network in the fireplace to come get his daily dosage of Wolfsbane Potion, and couldn't risk the chance that he might sleep right through it. Oftentimes he was a light sleeper, but if he was tired enough, he would likely sleep more heavily.

So instead, he took to grading the stack of essays that the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins had handed in that day, though his irritability would only mean a worse fate for any even _relatively_ incompetent Gryffindors' grades. Severus graded rather viciously when he was in a bad mood.

There were potions to keep him awake, which he _did_ take throughout the day, but those didn't necessarily have any affect on his mind. They kept him physically awake, but he was still mentally exhausted.

About ten minutes before dinner, Severus heard a knock at his door, and his now somewhat-irrational mind instantly thought (and wished) it would be Vesperra, but when three firm knocks sounded rather than the special knock in the rhythm of that Beatles song, he knew it was Lupin, and was both disgruntled and glad.

Flicking his wand at the door, Severus allowed Lupin entrance, at the same time standing up to go fill a goblet.

"I'm here for tonight's gobletful, Sever—" Lupin started to say as he walked in and closed the door.

"Yes, horrendously small though my brain is, I gathered that you weren't merely out for an evening stroll in the dungeons and had decided to stop by," growled Severus, turning around to face the man with a scowl and a goblet with the exact amount of Wolfsbane Potion needed.

Lupin smiled politely and took the slightly smoking goblet, showing no sign of feeling insulted or taken aback at Severus's extra rudeness. After taking a long gulp of it, he clicked his tongue as though trying to get rid of the awful taste, and said, "I apologize, Severus, was I interrupting something important? Or has the workload simply granted you less sleep than usual?"

Severus noted, with annoyance, how the werewolf was talking as though nothing unpleasant had happened between them three weeks ago. You'd think that Lupin might be a bit more wary and less friendly when he was around Severus now, but apparently not.

The way he appeared so willing to put the past behind him while Severus was still hanging on to a childhood grudge (which he had _every_ right to hold onto, since Lupin had almost _killed_ him) was suspicious. What if the man was just trying to get on his good side, so he'd trust him and thus make it easier for him to hand Potter over to Black? Well, it wasn't going to work.

"Best of chums though we are, Lupin, I'd rather not waste time exchanging meaningless pleasantries this evening," said Severus, his arms folded over his chest. He was not going to admit his lack of sleep to Lupin—that would be admitting a weakness to an enemy, and about the dumbest thing he could have done. And he had noticed the other man glace around after asking whether he had been interrupting anything; he had probably suspected that Vesperra might have been in here.

Surprisingly, the man obliged, and even with less of a smile now. Lupin drained his goblet and set it back down on the table on which the cauldron stood, then immediately made for the door.

"Same time, tomorrow, Severus—and thanks again for continuing to brew this for me. I know it can't be any less than stressful on you."

Scowling, he watched Lupin leave. He wished the man had come earlier, so he would have been left with at least an hour to sleep, but there was no time for that now. Dinner began in just a few minutes, and Severus was left with the option of either walking with Lupin to the staffroom or being a bit late.

He chose the latter. Hardly tasting his food, he was much more focused on the prospect of both hearing Vesperra's voice for the first time in three days and being able to have several good hours of sleep.

And that night, it was her voice that lulled him to sleep, rather than the other way around.

* * *

As expected, Malfoy and the other third year Slytherins employed what seemed like every means they knew of to try and get Vesperra to tell them who her letter was from. She refused to say a word about it, but her self-control was growing thin, and she was finding it more and more difficult not to hex someone.

"It couldn't have been from either of your parents," said Daphne Greengrass at dinner later in the week, "unless they were disowning you."

"Well, that's certainly an option," said Malfoy, laughing. "I'd only wonder why they haven't done it already."

For a short time after Malfoy first began guessing, Vesperra feared that he'd suspect correctly like he had the last time she was delivered a letter. But then she realized that it would be virtually impossible for him to do so, because he couldn't have seen the seal on the letter, and it wasn't likely that he'd have even known what it meant if he had. Besides, she had Obliviated him last time, so he had no information to link to this.

The others also finally started to realize that it was possible that Vesperra had a side that none of them would ever have any inkling of, so she might very well be corresponding with someone they've never heard of, and for a reason it would be impossible for them to guess. This didn't necessarily bring her any sort of satisfaction, though, because it meant that they would be quicker to attempt getting the answer out of her by force.

Twice Malfoy had told Crabbe or Goyle to shove her up against the wall in the Common Room and keep her there until she told them, and both those times, she had been quick to draw her wand and hex them with a hissed "_Ignimenta!_", at which they would instantly withdraw their beefy arms as though burnt. It had been a long time since she had used that curse, and she had only just managed to refrain from using a worse one, because others would have lasting effects, and she didn't need to be questioned or put in detention after they went to the Hospital Wing.

Both times, some of the other Slytherins looked like they had half a mind to ask her to teach them that curse, but obviously they wouldn't want to look like they respected her at all. Vesperra also couldn't help but notice the sudden look of horror on Crabbe's face when the curse hit him—the curse from the Malignant Card was clearly working.

Malfoy stopped after two times, presumably realizing that brute force was not the way to go, especially when his friends were unskilled in the extreme when it came to defending themselves with a wand—and, as Severus would call them, dunderheads.

Otherwise, Vesperra stayed on her guard, and made sure not to let it down at anytime. She did, however, purposely tell them one detail—that she had burnt the letter, so there would be nothing for them to find if they tried raiding her school trunk or bag. They seemed to believe her, and really, they had no reason not to. They didn't need to know Vesperra personally to know that she was rather secretive and that she would do anything to keep the contents of her letter from them. That only backfired on her in that it was even more obvious to them that whatever she had to hide was something important and something that they'd like to know.

However, just as they had eventually given up on finding out what she had bought in Knockturn Alley last year, they also gave up, though grudgingly, on discovering the contents of Vesperra's letter after everything they tried failed, proving the task impossible. This loss of interest came with the beginning of the next week; it was two weeks before the end of term, which meant that McGonagall was to come around the Great Hall during breakfast and take the names of those who would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.

Knowing that she would be even less welcome at home over the holidays this year than the two years prior, Vesperra signed up to stay at Hogwarts. Hardly anyone else did, and it seemed that she was one of very few people that were staying. Only one other Slytherin had signed up to stay (the sullen-faced fifth year that had sat in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express on September first), and there was a total of about seven students remaining at Hogwarts overall. Potter and his friends were staying, as usual, but other than that, Vesperra was glad that she'd have two weeks of the castle being nearly empty, especially because Malfoy would be gone.

What put Vesperra off, however, was that, with it being this close to Christmas, the majority of the school was happily discussing their plans for the holidays and getting into the Christmas spirit. Her plans so far consisted only of spending more time with Severus, and she couldn't stand the cheeriness in the air.

Outside the castle, it was no longer raining, but the temperature had dropped to almost below freezing. The muddy grounds were covered in glittering frost, and students were at risk of slipping on the thin layer of ice that covered the outer corridors near the courtyard. With the clouds in the sky now light instead of dark grey, the sunlight that filtered through them caused the sky to become a blinding, opaline white.

As for the interior of Hogwarts, some of the teachers had already begun decorating; in Flitwick's classroom were many small, colorful fairies that fluttered around and shimmered brightly during Charms. Professor Babbling, the Ancient Runes teacher, had rather unique Christmas traditions that were from whatever distant country she was born in. However, 'Christmas' had no translation in the ancient runic language, so she had given them the assignment of using already-existing runic words and their knowledge of the holiday to come up with an accurate translation, as well as explaining their reasoning in a ten-inch long essay.

The next day, Vesperra returned to the Common Room after dinner to find the majority of the other Slytherins—third year and up—conversing loudly about the Hogsmeade trip that was apparently taking place on the last weekend of term, which had been announced on the notice board. This galvanized her into action; she had decided to wait until finding out the date of the next Hogsmeade trip to write Damien back, since it would have been a waste of parchment to write and simply tell him to wait until she found out. And now, her mingled impatience and desperate curiosity to know what he wanted to talk to her about was stronger and more incessant than ever.

Immediately after hearing about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, Vesperra went to her dorm and pulled out a small piece of parchment, on which she wrote,

_It's on December 18__th__. Sorry I took a week to write back, but I only found out today. And I suppose we can meet at 11. If you need to write back, make sure to tell the owl not to deliver the letter during breakfast or any meals, and instead to find me some other time during the day._

_~Vesperra_

She waited until the next morning to send it, since it wasn't urgent that she send it as soon as possible, and it was already the evening. If she went back through the Common Room to the Owlery, there was always the chance that someone would see her and follow her.

For the next two weeks, Vesperra had the Hogsmeade trip on her mind, both because of Damien and because of Christmas coming up. She knew Severus wouldn't want her to get him anything, just like last year, but his birthday was soon after, and she might be able to buy him something for that. If there was nothing within her price range, she could always make or do something for him instead.

Vesperra had continued to practice her attempts at a Patronus with Severus every Saturday, and the shield of gas she had so far achieved was now as bright as the snow outside. It hadn't, however, formed a shape yet. She grew almost as impatient to see it take on an animal form as she was to find out what Damien wanted to see her for, but reminded herself that it would take a while, and it was a mark of very much magical skill that she had managed what she had so far.

As the term drew to a close, the ground became thicker and thicker with snow, and many students grew less and less attentive in class—except in Potions, obviously, where everyone paid attention unless they had a death wish. In Ancient Runes, everyone had been partnered up for their last lesson before the end of term, and as usual, Vesperra was with Theodore Nott, who sat right next to her.

They were supposed to write a short story of whatever topic they wanted in the runic language, then switch and translate the other's into English. Vesperra, who shot down all the boring topic ideas that came to mind, decided, with an inward smirk, to write:

_There was once a boy with a pointed chin and white-blonde hair, and he was extremely wealthy. But he was also an idiot and an arse, and everyone hated him. One day, he was pushed into a ditch in the ground, and was eaten alive by tigers. Everyone was happy._

Some of the words weren't directly translatable, but she did the best she could with writing it in the runic language. While Nott was translating it back into English, he laughed, and smirked at her.

"Wait," he said, sliding the parchment back over to her, "would the end be, 'eaten by live tigers,' or 'eaten alive by tigers?'"

Smirking as well, though curious as to why Nott appeared to hate Malfoy when none of the other Slytherins did, Vesperra said, "'Eaten alive.' I doubt he could have been eaten by dead tigers, anyway. Unless they were reanimated corpses of tigers, but… nevermind. And I think you mistranslated a word on yours—" She pointed to a spot on Nott's short story. "—I don't think the ground was covered in 'freedom.'"

"Oh," said Nott, frowning and pulling his story back towards him. "Well, unless you were the one to translate it wrong—no, nevermind, that was me. It's supposed to be 'snow.' Oh, and up here on yours, that technically translates as 'donkey,' but you meant 'arse,' right?"

"Yeah. Too bad there aren't runic words for anything worse."

"Only as far as we know. But the people that originally spoke the Ancient Runic language probably had different ideas of insults…"

Vesperra left the Ancient Runes class that day having admittedly enjoyed herself, yet with also a strange feeling, as she had actually had a real conversation with Nott. They had talked before, as was inevitable when they were in class and often had to partner up, but this was the first time it had been more than them pointing out each other's mistakes in translating.

And more than before, Nott was actually being friendly towards her today, and was showing something possibly more than tolerance—_liking_? She didn't like it, because it was a confusing. The Lovegood girl was one thing, but Nott was actually sane. Occasionally in Ancient Runes class was the only time he ever talked to her, so he could have easily just been a decent person, and at the same time not overly-friendly.

But that was soon neither here nor there to Vesperra, because Saturday arrived with a flurry of snow. The stone walls and floor of her dorm, being under the lake, were ice-cold, and when she went up to the Great Hall for breakfast, she looked up at the enchanted ceiling and saw that it wasn't yet snowing, but the sky was white and looking ready to unleash a blizzard.

The excitement in the air was so thick that Vesperra nearly choked on it, though she didn't share the spirit that many others did. A dozen enormous fir trees stood around the House tables, all decorated extravagantly and emanating a Christmassy glow. Mistletoe hung everywhere, as it had been for the past few days, and enchanted snowflake-shaped ice floated high above the tables. Having a Hogsmeade trip today and leaving for the holidays tomorrow had most people at the height of cheerfulness, and as glad as Vesperra was, her expression remained as cold as the weather outside.

When Vesperra made to leave with the rest of the school, wrapped up in her coat and scarf, she looked back at Severus with a sorry look. Once again, she'd have liked to spend the day with him, but she couldn't stay behind and he couldn't come with her—especially not this time, when she had to meet Damien, who Severus knew nothing of and would most likely be very angry with her if he were to find out unexpectedly.

He caught her gaze and returned it with a sort of half-grimace that said, "It's fine, don't worry about me. You go have fun."

Well, without knowing what Damien wanted to talk about yet, she wasn't sure if she'd have fun, but she planned on buying more Chocolate Cauldrons at the very least. Vesperra was, however, a bit disappointed that she wouldn't be able to practice her Patronus with Severus today, but they had discussed it over the journals the night before and agreed on just doing it tomorrow instead.

Soon after she began to trudge through the thick, frozen snow on the ground and crisp, biting wind, it started snowing, the wind growing fiercer. Granted, it was much easier to walk through than the rain had on the first Quidditch match of the year, and going to Hogsmeade would be worth it, anyway.

On the walk through the icy path to the front gates of Hogwarts, there was much talk around Vesperra of other students planning to do their Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade.

"I think I'll buy a load of Honeydukes sweets to bring home to my brothers—they're Muggles, so they've never had stuff like that before…"

"Do you think I should get my mum some new robes from Gladrags? I can't think of anything else she'd like, and she'd be all over my arse if I don't get her anything…"

And from directly to her right, in the drawling voice she loathed beyond anything else:

"Hey, Grease-perra, I've decided that, since it's the holidays, I'm going to be nice and buy you a present, since you can't afford anything. So far, I haven't yet decided whether to get you shampoo or socks that say, 'I love Snape'—you can get them personalized at Gladrags, I heard. Well?"

Vesperra whipped her head around to give Malfoy a venomous glare, at which he only grinned wider, and Crabbe and Goyle started chuckling. Returning her gaze back to the space directly in front of her, she said over the steadily increasing wind, "How about you buy me a spade, so I can dig a ditch and push you in it?"

She heard what sounded like a snort of stifled laughter from up ahead, and though everyone ahead of her had their head covered by hats and scarves, she would have bet that it Theodore Nott.

Malfoy, however, didn't seem to have heard it, and wasn't fazed. "I'd rather you curse me, actually—as long as I don't have to be touched by you." With another round of smug laughter from him and his cronies, he moved away from her.

Soon enough, Vesperra was nearing the iron gates, and circling the statues of winged boars were two dementors, which looked even creepier surrounded by the swirling snow. In front of the stark whiteness of the sky, the blackness of their rippling cloaks stood out for a mile.

However, now that she'd had a decent amount of training, Vesperra was able to prepare her mind for the dread that would indefinitely spread over her once she got close enough to the gates. About ten feet from the dementors in all directions, the snow on the ground was frozen to ice, which was even worse, since she now had to walk even slower while under them so she wouldn't slip on the ice. But, though she couldn't cast a Patronus against them, Vesperra resisted their effects considerably better than she had last time. Before she knew it, they were far behind her, and she wouldn't have to pass them again for several hours.

When she made it to the town square, she stopped for a moment. The air was somewhat opaque, like she was looking through a frost-covered window, but the whole of Hogsmeade was still visible; it looked much different now than it had last time. The thatched roofs were covered in a layer of snow, and the warm-looking cottages and shops stuck out in the blizzard. Most people, however, were undistinguishable unless only a few feet away.

_Perfect, I'll be able to avoid Malfoy the entire time,_ thought Vesperra gratefully. She had roughly an hour until she had agreed to meet Damien, so she first decided to visit the few small shops that she hadn't had the chance to go inside during the last Hogsmeade trip. As she walked through High Street, her head bowed against the wind, she noticed holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles in the trees. The Christmassy cheerfulness was just as thick here as it was inside Hogwarts, but it was somehow a little less annoying here.

Along with the decorations, she also noticed that, pasted on the outside of every shop window, was the same sign:

—**By Order of**—  
**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC  
**_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall.  
__Merry Christmas!_

After reading the notice on the display window of Potage's, Vesperra scowled. She wanted Sirius Black to be captured and killed (or worse, given the Dementor's Kiss) just as much—if not more than—the rest of the Wizarding population did, but the Ministry was going about this the wrong way. _Merlin, they're idiots, aren't they? Obviously they care more about _looking_ like they're closer to catching him than actually catching him. Haven't they realized by now that dementors don't affect Black like they do everyone else? If he was able to escape the hundreds of dementors in Azkaban, having dementors glide around here every night won't make much of a difference…._

But this led her to wondering, as she continued walking up the snow-covered High Street, whether Black was in Hogsmeade right now. If he was disguised, he could be standing no more than twenty feet away from her, and she wouldn't even know it. In this weather, Black wouldn't have any trouble staying hidden as long as he kept his face covered and didn't talk to anyone or enter any shops. And he was mad, so once he found the person he was looking for (evidently Potter), he wouldn't care about revealing himself.

Even if Sirius Black wasn't actually in the village, he could still be hiding out nearby. The Minister of Magic, as stupid as Vesperra thought he was, must have been sure that Black was still near Hogsmeade. Suddenly she didn't feel very safe walking through the streets alone, but then she realized that Severus hadn't had a problem with it—if he had, then he'd have objected to her visiting Hogsmeade this time. And if Severus thought she was safe, then she'd be fine. His judgment was concrete to her.

So Vesperra went to have a look around in the local apothecary, vaguely wondering why she hadn't visited it last time. It was larger than the one in Diagon Alley, and certainly not as Dark and dank as the one in Knockturn Alley, but attracted her attention all the same. There were some very rare ingredients there, most of which she had seen in Severus's private stores before. But everything of real interest was far out of her price range, so all she could do was look around.

Eventually, she became aware of the fact that she'd been in there for quite a while, though she wasn't sure exactly how long. At once, her eyes darted up from a jar full of jewels from a firecrab's shell she'd been examining and hastily searched the wall for a clock; there was one right above the front desk, and according to it (thankfully), it was only six until eleven. Still, it would take a couple minutes to walk back down High Street, and it might take her another minute or so to find Damien within the crowd in the Three Broomsticks, so she decided to leave right then.

Stepping back outside reintroduced her to the biting wind, which was even stronger now. Even if Vesperra had not had an engagement there, she'd still have decided to go to Madam Rosmerta's pub, as it must have been very warm in there.

Much larger than the Hog's Head, the Three Broomsticks Inn was probably the most popular attraction in all of Hogsmeade. Though allegedly as old as the village itself, it was very clean and well-taken care of, and that was just from the outside. Vesperra gave a moment's hesitation before entering, as it was buzzing with so much life and socialization that she almost couldn't bring herself to go near there, but she forced herself to push open the door and walk in, no matter how awkward she felt.

As she did, a few wizards at the nearby tables automatically turned to glance at her, which she guessed was because of the sudden cold breeze that must have entered when the door opened. They all looked away and resumed what they were doing half a second later. Vesperra slowly walked further in, brushing snow off herself and looking around.

It was extremely crowded—even more so than Honeydukes was, and if she had the time or patience to count the customers, she'd have come to near forty, at least. Tables were crammed together to make room for everyone, and even then, several wizards were standing up and leaning against the wall. From outside the inn, the noise had been muffled, but Vesperra could now hear many loud conversations running together, as well as the shuffling of boots on the wooden floors to shake off the snow and the clinking of glasses and tankards.

Nevertheless, it was very warm and smoky, and Vesperra pulled down her scarf a little so that her face was somewhat more easily distinguishable. Her eyes swept the inn, and she noticed just how diverse the customers at the Three Broomsticks were; a group of wizards at a table to her left were speaking to each other in rapid German, and she could have sworn that there were a couple goblins at the end of the bar.

Feeling uncomfortable having to maneuver through such a dense crowd, Vesperra looked around and desperately tried to find Damien as soon as possible so she could just sit down—and then, just as she was about to give up and go wait outside instead to avoid any more awkwardness, she heard a creak and felt a sudden breeze on the back of her neck.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned around to see a broad-shouldered man with smooth, dark hair entering and looking down as he brushed snow off his cloak. It couldn't have been anyone else but Damien, but she noticed that he had let his hair grow out and that it was a bit less smooth than the way it had been the last time she saw him, as though he had neglected taking care of it. His stubble had also grown into a sort of goatee—overall, he was uncharacteristically gruff, though he still had a smug air about him.

Damien looked up, saw Vesperra almost at once, and smiled. Being careful not to bump into anyone and apparently trying not to look as though he was heading directly for the greasy-haired third year girl in the middle of the inn, he approached her. He touched her shoulder lightly and continued walking, making it obvious that she should follow.

"Vesperra, I'm glad you came—oh, this table's empty." Damien gestured to a small, vacant table that was directly below one of the rafters. Before she had the chance to sit down, he said, "I'll go get our drinks—what do you want? Butterbeer? Mead? Gillywater?"

It took a moment for her to get over the slight shock of Damien actually offering both to pay for drinks and get it for her, as she wasn't used to that sort of behavior in anyone except Severus, but then she suddenly thought of firewhiskey, and how Severus had said that neither Aberforth nor Rosmerta would consent to sell her any. But if Damien was getting the drinks, then the landlady wouldn't have a problem giving him firewhiskey, and clearly Damien didn't mind the idea of her having an alcoholic beverage either.

That wild thought was pushed aside in a matter of milliseconds, however, and Vesperra replied, after a short pause, "Butterbeer."

Pulling out the chair and sitting down, she watched Damien nod and walk away towards the bar, where a very curvy woman that could only have been Madam Rosmerta was serving drinks. It gave Vesperra time to take a deep breath and take in the situation, looking around once more. A stairway leading up to the rentable rooms was at the farthest corner, and on the other side of the inn there was a crackling fireplace and a large Christmas tree. Part of her could hardly believe that she was meeting Damien here; it was just so strange to see him outside of Knockturn Alley. She wondered if he visited Hogsmeade often.

And he hadn't written again after she had sent him the Hogsmeade date, so, the entire time, she had had a niggling doubt that he would even show up. But he had, and he was here, so now she was anxious to hear what was so important.

A minute or so later, Vesperra's train of thought was interrupted as the table she was leaning on shook slightly, and the empty chair across from her suddenly filled with something large and dark. Damien sat down, holding two foaming tankards of hot butterbeer, and set hers down in front of her with a thunk. Raising her eyebrows slightly and briefly as a silent thanks, she raised the tankard to her lips and took a long drink.

Vesperra decided that she preferred butterbeer hot to when it was cold. It tasted much better, and the warmth it filled her with was much closer to the way Severus often made her feel. Every bit of her felt as though it had been heated from the inside—but she didn't let her slight surprise at how much she loved the stuff show on her face.

Setting the tankard back down, she wiped the foam off her upper lip and nose, and leaned back in her chair. "What is it you wanted to talk me about, then?" she asked, a shade more businesslike than she intended. "And if it was too important to discuss through owl post, why are we in the Three Broomsticks instead of the Hog's Head? It's rather crowded here, in case you haven't noticed."

"Exactly why I chose the Three Broomsticks," said Damien in a low voice after taking a drink of his own butterbeer. "We're less likely to be overheard, what with all the other noise going on in here. Besides, I'm—er… not allowed in the Hog's Head. I nearly got in a duel there in my sixth year, and the barman threw us out. He'd remember my face. Anyway, this conversation needs to stay private, and I'm not too worried, considering the crowd that usually hangs around here, but make sure to keep your voice down, just in—"

"Hold on," interrupted Vesperra as an idea struck her, holding up her hand. She pulled her wand out of her sleeve and, ignoring Damien's confused "Wha—?" and frown, she pointed it at the area around their table on every side, each time muttering, "_Muffliato._"

She had never used that spell before, but she'd seen Severus use it, and there was no special wand movement involved. So she didn't doubt that she'd done it correctly.

"What did you just do?" said Damien slowly after Vesperra had put her wand away, arching an eyebrow and reminding her of herself from two years ago.

"Made it so no one can hear our conversation," she replied evenly. "All anyone'll hear if they walk by is a buzzing noise, so it'll be literally impossible for us to be overheard."

Damien raised his eyebrows, evidently impressed, and no longer bothered to keep his voice down. "That's perfect, then. Anyway… I'm here because, over the summer, you agreed to do me a favor in return for me doing you a favor—giving you Antimony. Well, I need a favor now." He paused to scratch at his beard, giving Vesperra time to muse that her prediction was correct. "I heard you're rather skilled at potion-making."

Vesperra, who had been in the middle of taking another sip of butterbeer, raised her own eyebrows in surprise and set her tankard back down abruptly.

"I'm not saying I'm not," she said slowly and somewhat warily, "but where did you hear that?"

"In Knockturn Alley," said Damien simply. "I've heard your name thrown around a little now and then—I think one time it was because Lucius Malfoy and his son mentioned you and your high marks in Potions while in Borgin and Burkes, and Mr. Borgin mentioned it to other people. Gossip doesn't travel in Knockturn Alley anywhere near as quickly as it does in Hogwarts, but it's still fast."

Furrowing her brow, Vesperra slackened her shoulders and habitually looked down and to her right, which she often did while pondering things. "I wasn't aware that my name was thrown around in Knockturn Alley…." Suddenly, a thought came to her: What if she was talked about because of her being a Lestrange? Could she actually be considered a bit _famous_ in Knockturn Alley? If she was, it was all because of the ring her mother had given her…. And then her mind was jerked back into the present as she realized what else Damien had said.

"Do you _know_ Lucius Malfoy?" said Vesperra somewhat sharply.

"Well, not personally," said Damien, gesturing with the hand that still held his tankard of butterbeer. A little foam slopped over the edge of it without his notice. "But I doubt there are many people in Wizarding Britain—especially in Knockturn Alley—who don't know who he is. I've never actually spoken to him, though my father has. I don't think he's very interested in Dark creatures, though; he prefers expensive-looking creatures that he can show off, like peacocks. And all I know about his son is that he's apparently a spoiled little whiner."

Vesperra almost snorted into her butterbeer, but then scowled. "Oh, he is…."

"So you know him?"

"Yes, and I can honestly say that we're about the worst of enemies, despite being in the same House." At once, she quickly glanced around the Three Broomsticks for any students that she knew. Though they wouldn't be able to hear her conversation with Damien, they would be able to see her sitting with him—and there were several people even besides Malfoy that would love to get some dirt on her. There seemed to be no other Slytherins in her year, but she did see a few older students that she only knew by their face. Redirecting her gaze on Damien, who was raising one curious eyebrow at her, she gulped her butterbeer, feeling a sudden wave of paranoia.

"Hm," said Damien, having apparently seen no other way to end that topic. "But that's besides the point. Anyway—so you _are_ very skilled in potion making, correct?" he pressed.

"I—Well, yes," said Vesperra, wondering where this was going. As much pride as she took in her skills, she didn't feel like bragging about them. She just wasn't the sort of person to brag.

"And… would you say you have an extensive knowledge of poisons?"

Caught off-guard by this question, Vesperra cocked her head at a curious angle and froze there, letting her mind whir like a nearly audible buzz within her, piecing together what Damien had said so far. He _couldn't_ be asking what she thought he must be asking her, could he…?

Vesperra thought it best not to hesitate, and decided upon an answer moments later, though she still spoke slowly and warily. "Yes, I would…."

Smirking slightly, at which his old, cleaner face stood out beneath his new gruff look, Damien said, "Excellent. And that brings me to the most important part—I'd like you to brew a poison for me. A deadly poison. Like I've told you, I've never been very good at anything potion-related myself, and you're the only person I trust to do it for me. Obviously, this has to remain a secret, and I know you would never do anything to risk letting anyone else know about it."

He leaned further back in his chair when he was finished as though it were a business proposal—essentially, though, it was. Almost at a loss for words, Vesperra remained stiff, meeting his expectant expression and eyes—which, as she noticed properly for the first time, were hazel—with a look of amazement.

After several seconds, she decided which of her many questions she should ask first: "What do you need poison for?—Who are you trying to kill?"

Showing hesitation of his own, Damien didn't seem like he was going to answer for a few seconds that felt like they were stretched into minutes. In fact, he regarded her with an expression that reminded her of herself; it clearly meant that he felt the way she often did with Severus. He had known she'd ask that, but hadn't yet come up with a means to skirt around the question without flat-out saying that he wasn't going to tell her.

"If you trust me with brewing a deadly poison for you," said Vesperra before Damien had the chance to answer or choose not to, "then I don't see why you should have a problem divulging some other details. Unless, of course, you're planning on poisoning someone that I know, because that might be a problem."

She had added that only half-jokingly, because that suddenly seemed like a likely possibility. What if, by some wild chance, it involved Severus?

At that, Damien's unsure expression dissipated (though it appeared rather forced), and the edges of his lips curved into a sort of wry smile. "I assure you, it's no one you know. And besides, I thought you seemed like the person that would hate nearly everyone they knew…. But, if you must know, here's the story…" Presumably figuring out a good place to start as he did, he tilted his head back for a long gulp of butterbeer, wiped the foam out of his beard, and coughed significantly.

"When I was very young—hardly even old enough to speak yet," he began, as Vesperra listened intently, "my mother left my father for another man. He _stole_ her from my father, more like, actually. My mum was never married to my dad—it was more of a fling, really, and they were only two years out of Hogwarts, but then I was born, and things got more serious between them. I know my father loved her, and I think they had even planned on getting married, but then another man, the name of whom my father never told me, came along and completely won her over. I don't know _what_ exactly he did, but my mother left and never came back. It was because of that man that I never knew my mother, and also why I grew up rather poor—you see, my mother was much richer than my father, and took all of her wealth with her when she left.

"Now, I suppose you can say my mum was more at fault than that man, but I don't believe it. I don't think she'd have willingly left my father otherwise. But anyway, I recently managed to track both him and my mother down. It took extensive research, some traveling across the British countryside, paying off people for various favors with my recently acquired wealth—and I was unlucky enough to get involved in a few wayside duels, but I did manage it eventually. Now I know his name, where he and my mother live, what he does for a living, and where he goes almost everyday. I'm considering this revenge for that bastard tearing apart what could have been my family and making my mum break my dad's heart, though it'll be nineteen years late. Still, perhaps my mother will even come back…."

Damien then exhaled with grief and took another drink of his butterbeer, signaling that his story was over. Realizing that she hadn't touched her tankard at all during his anecdote, Vesperra downed some as well, taking the minute to mull over what he had told her. In all honesty, she had been strangely shocked at the fact that he was planning a murder at first; as immersed in Dark creatures and the Dark Arts in general as he must have been, he simply didn't seem the sort to be capable of murder. And as often as she had thoroughly planned out how to kill several people (Quirrell, Malfoy, and Lockhart especially), and sometimes even seriously considered carrying some of her plans out, she hadn't acted on any of them, nor had she imagined that she truly would. If she were to kill anyone, it would more likely be on impulse.

Now, however, after hearing Damien's reason, Vesperra felt that his desire for revenge like this was completely justified. Though she didn't care about her own parents (mostly because they had abused her, several times to the point of near-death), she sort of understood that some others did. And Damien's parents, as far as she knew according to what he had said, weren't abusive and would probably have been very good parents if this man hadn't stolen his mother.

A fleeting image of some unnamed, faceless woman stealing Severus away from her flashed through her mind, and she cringed very slightly. It felt as though both of them had been sitting there, silent, for a long time, but Vesperra broke the silence with another question that had come to mind.

"So, were you gone from your shop for all this time, then?"

"Yes, for nearly three months," he replied, a tad somberly.

"Did your father know you were doing this?" The single occasion that Vesperra had seen Damien's father before had been enough to tell her that the man was overbearing and a bit controlling with his son, and she didn't think it would be possible for Damien to just leave for a few months without telling him what he was doing.

"No, he didn't, because I didn't tell him. It's been so many years, and I just didn't know whether or not he'd even want that man dead anymore, or if the mention of my mother would bring back too much grief for him. You know how parents are, anyway—they generally wouldn't want you to go kill someone and risk getting thrown in Azkaban. But the thing his, I'm doing this more for myself than I am for him."

Vesperra narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Then… how did you keep your absence unnoticed by him for three months?"

"Oh, he knew I was leaving," said Damien with a slight chuckle. "But I only told him that I had some personal affairs to attend to, and that they might take a while. He didn't question me too much after that, and he really has no right to, because he might still be my father, but I'm of age and he pays me to work for him, so he's more of my employer. And he was fine with having a friend—Scabior—fill in for me while I was gone—though he did tell me to bring back something for the shop. That only made my trip longer, but I did manage to purchase a few serpent eggs on the way."

This as well as the main recount of what he had been doing the past few months explained why Damien was now rather gruff and resembled his father even more greatly; he must not have had much time to shave or use much hygiene at all during the time that he was traveling through the countryside. Vesperra wouldn't have minded hearing more details about what had happened with him, but she registered that she had already spent a considerable amount of time in the Three Broomsticks and wanted to hurry up and hear Damien's conditions for the poison he wanted.

"So," she said firmly, "you want to poison this man." Damien gave a small nod. "Well, there's plenty of details I need to know before I can even agree, then…. There are countless types of poisons. Do you want it to kill him slowly or instantly? Or would you prefer it take a specific amount of time—say a day, or two—to take affect?"

Once again, Vesperra took a few surreptitious glances around the inn, though she hadn't felt the breeze that would have come in if the door was opened on the back of her neck since the last time she'd checked. It was as noisy and smoky as ever, but no unwanted faces stood out to her.

"Definitely not immediately—I would run a higher risk of getting caught if the man dropped dead while I was in the vicinity," said Damien, scratching his beard in deep thought. "I'm planning on disguising myself when I do it, of course, but I suppose it would still be smarter to be well away from him when he actually dies. I think a day or so would be the best."

Vesperra vaguely noted that, though Damien wasn't very knowledgeable in potions, he seemed to be very strategic when it came to murder.

"Alright then," she said after completely draining her tankard of butterbeer in one gulp. She set it aside, now very warm and very full. "So—what about pain? Do you want him to suffer? Because I know you'd probably like him to suffer, but if it's painless, then he'll be completely unaware that a poison is making its way through his system during the twenty-four hours before it takes effect, and therefore unable to have a chance to get to St. Mungo's or find an antidote in time. One of the solutions could be so simple as a bezoar, though that wouldn't work for _all_ poisons…."

Damien absentmindedly picked at a spot on the wooden table and gave her a strange look—something in between being overwhelmed and impressed. "I—you're right. I'll just go with what you said; the poison should cause a virtually painless death—up until the point he's actually dying, of course. Speaking of which, are there…?"

He seemed not to be able to word it properly, but Vesperra knew what he meant, and nodded with a single upward jerk of her head.

"There isn't much of a variety of the _way_ the victim would die after it's already narrowed down to poisons that take a day or so to work and are painless for that day, but there's a few. Of the poisons I know of—many of which are rather rare, I'm pretty sure that you have a choice between having the man's lungs stop working so it's death by unexplainable—to him—asphyxiation, having him go through a prolonged epileptic seizure before actually snuffing it, or him just dropping dead. There may be more—I don't spend all day reading up on potions texts to memorize every poison in existence—but I'm not sure. Either way, I'd suggest that you _don't_ decide on the seizures; that would just give those around him more time to figure out what's going on and shove a bezoar down his throat."

But Damien didn't respond immediately; he hadn't even been looking straight at Vesperra for much of the time she'd been talking, though she had only vaguely noticed it while she had been a bit carried away in her potions talk. His elbows leaning on the table and his hands folded beneath his chin, he was glancing from her to a spot somewhere behind and to the right of her.

"That boy keeps looking at you," said Damien, glancing once more at the spot she couldn't see and narrowing his eyes slightly, though he kept his voice completely casual. He only pointed by unfolding one of his fingers and moving it subtly in a vague direction. "Well—us, actually, but mostly you. You're _sure_ no one can hear us?"

His tone was suddenly tinged with panic, but Vesperra said, "Absolutely sure." Knowing that it would be stupid to turn around, for you were never supposed to let anyone know that you knew they were watching you, she tried to turn and tilt her head as little as possible so she could see who it was out of the very corner of her peripheral vision and through her hair. Could it have been Malfoy, or someone else that hated her? She wasn't sure whether or not the door had been opened in the past ten minutes or so, so it was possible….

Leaning back casually in her chair, Vesperra was able to catch a glimpse of who Damien must have meant; Theodore Nott was sitting in an empty booth near the wall and clutching a nearly full tankard of butterbeer in one hand. Before she could even react inwardly, let alone tell Damien who it was, however—

"Well, I suppose he might just be looking because he recognizes me from a few months ago," said Damien, "when his father bought the Emberys in my shop. I don't look _that_ much different—"

If Vesperra had been drinking butterbeer, she would have choked on it. "Wait—_Nott's_ father bought the Emberys?" she said incredulously, not bothering to tone down the loud shock in her voice, for no one besides Damien could hear her anyway. This had been so unexpected that everything about the poison was driven from her mind.

He looked back at her with a considerable amount of surprise as well. "Yes, he did. I suppose I'm sorry that I never mentioned it before, but it just didn't seem worth mentioning…. So, er… you know him, I take it? Is he—the friend you mentioned over the summer?"

"Yeah, I know him," said Vesperra, though in a much different tone than she'd answered about Malfoy in. "But no, you could hardly be farther from the truth on that part—we're not even friends. I just tolerate him. And I suppose you could call us acquaintances, but otherwise, I don't know him personally at all. He wouldn't tell anyone else, though—and even if he did, I'm not sure what Malfoy or anyone else would make of it—so there's no need to worry. But you know, it's sort of obvious why he'd be looking at us, though, since he must be pretty bloody surprised that we know each other. But you'd think he'd try to be a little less conspicuous…."

"I would think so, but like I said, it seemed like he was mostly looking at you, and you wouldn't have known it if I hadn't noticed him. But anyway, you said I was 'far from the truth'—who _is_ the friend you mentioned, then?"

Freezing in her seat, Vesperra was resigned to think, _Dammit. Damn, I knew he'd ask eventually, but… Ugh. _It wasn't something she wanted him—or anyone, for that matter—to know. Enough people knew about her and Severus's relationship already, and if she could avoid anyone else finding out, she would. Besides, Severus didn't even know about Damien. So it would feel wrong, like she was betraying him.

"I believe we were talking about poison," she said rather curtly. "We've gotten too sidetracked—"

"What, you don't want to tell me?" said Damien, leaning back in his chair and half-grinning. "You can't even tell me his name, or what he's like? As a friend, I'd like to know your other friends—we _are_ friends, aren't we?"

"I—" Vesperra had to think about it. She never would have considered anyone but Severus her friend, and she had only talked to Damien on three separate occasions including this time, but as of today, she did know quite a bit about him. And if she ultimately ended up agreeing, she would, essentially, be helping him murder someone. "I… yes, I suppose we're friends," she said, feeling odd as she did. "I can tell you that he's a lot like me, but I don't recall _you _mentioning the name of this man who stole your mum away."

For a few tense seconds, Damien made small, meaningless hand gestures while soundlessly mouthing to the air and evidently reasoning with himself on whether or not he should tell her. At last he exhaled and let his hands drop; and, for some reason, he glanced at her ring.

"Alright, nevermind." At that, Vesperra breathed an inward sigh of relief, and avoided wondering whether she'd ever tell either Severus or Damien about each other. "And though we're friends, I would technically consider this business, so let's get back to the poison. Right, so—what were we…?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "Death by asphyxiation, seizures, or instantaneous death—those are your choices."

"Yes—okay, I remember. Ah, well… I'll go by your suggestion again, and I rather think an instant death would be pointless, because he would die without even realizing it, so asphyxiation would be my preference for the bastard. Any other details I should worry about?"

"Two things." Vesperra straightened up in her seat, her bottom getting uncomfortable on the wood and longing to get up and move around or sit down on something softer, like Severus's couch. Scooting her chair in, she folded her hands on the table. "First, are you sure this man isn't skilled or experienced enough in potion-brewing to easily recognize a poison in his drink? If he is, that would ruin everything."

"Believe it or not, I thought of that. And like I'd told you, I spent quite a lot of time on research. He wasn't a potions genius in school, and he's never had a job having to do with potioneering or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Either way, even a lot of professional potion-brewers aren't so paranoid as to smell everything they eat or drink. I wouldn't doubt that you are, though…. What's the second thing, then?"

Though not so sure that Damien should so readily believe that the man wouldn't recognize a poison, Vesperra cleared her throat and said, "Ingredients."

Damien was half-way in the middle of forming a confused expression when he said, "Oh."

"Yeah. Even if you don't know much about potion-making, you should know that most poisons call for rare and usually expensive ingredients. I know that S—Professor Snape ought to keep many of the necessary ingredients in his private stores at Hogwarts—but I would have to be extremely dim to ask him for any of it, let alone _steal_ from him. Besides, with Potions being my best subject, I respect him. I'm not going to steal from him."

Crossing her arms, she leaned back and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, well, I couldn't ask you to try and steal from him. Going to Hogwarts, I always figured the only reason he didn't insult me for my lack of Potions skills was because I was a Slytherin…." Damien coughed awkwardly and shifted his gaze to the foam at the bottom of his butterbeer tankard, which he was swirling around seemingly unconsciously.

"Well, unless you provide the ingredients, I can't agree to do it," said Vesperra before Damien could continue, because it felt urgent to make sure he understood this. "I haven't even technically agreed yet. I'm sorry if I've gotten your hopes up, but you can't have assumed that all the questions I asked weren't purely for hypothetical purposes. See, I know I owe you a favor, but this is a _colossal_ favor you're asking of me. This would be much more difficult for me than it was for you to just go find a man who had some Antimony…. As skilled as I am, I'm still a third year. Brewing a poison this deadly could get me expelled, not to mention questioned. I don't carry hundreds of Galleons around with me, either, so I couldn't purchase them myself even if everything I needed was in the Hogsmeade apothecary. And obviously, there's absolutely no way for me to brew said poison without access to the ingredients."

He became stiff in his seat, his face blanching. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but I really need this favor from you, Vesperra. Otherwise my months of researching and traveling by trial and error would have been all in vain, and—that man—will never get what he deserves. I decided on poison once I'd found him because I thought it would be the least traceable—"

"And you're right."

"—and I'd already had everything planned out for after I have a poison. I don't know if anything else will ever come along that you could do to repay me for the Antimony…. Don't worry, I'll purchase whatever you need for it. I can afford it. Paying for the ingredients themselves would make our favors for each other even, wouldn't it?"

Vesperra sighed, thinking hard. This was where she'd officially decide whether or not to do this for him. Like he said, something else might not come along any time soon—and she didn't like being in someone's debt, not even his. But she would obviously have to keep this secret, especially from Severus, and she didn't like keeping things from him either. All the while, she'd be running the risk of being expelled or at least getting in monumental trouble, and then Severus would discover everything and likely explode in a fit of anger at her.

This would, however, give her the chance to actually brew a poison from the book she'd bought from the bookshop in Knockturn Alley, which she'd never done before. So it would be making sure that the book didn't go to waste, wouldn't it? She'd wanted this chance for a while…. And it was also revenge on the man who had supposedly stolen Damien's mother away from his father—as much as she'd be breaking her promise to Severus, she'd be doing some good in the world as well by punishing the wicked. She wasn't even the one actually killing him, anyway—she was just providing the means to do it.

But it still came down to her promise to Severus. If she did this, she was deliberately breaking it, not to mention getting involved in something highly illegal. _I promised him that I would try to _avoid_ this sort of thing, though,_ she thought. _And I _have_ tried. But I can't really avoid this, because Damien's my—friend—too, and I'm obliged to do him a favor…. In a way, I'm paying for the Antimony that I gave to Severus. He wouldn't want me to go back on my word, though he might if he knew it was like this…. But what else can I do?_

It was a with a wrench that she swallowed and found her voice again, making the decision that, as many things it could change for the worse, she felt she had to make nevertheless.

"Alright," she said, "I'll do this for you. I'm not sure how long it'll take, but you can bet that it'll be a week or so after I have the ingredients at the least." Damien smiled in relief, and he opened his mouth to thank her, but she held up her hand. "Later today, when I'm back at Hogwarts, I'll send you a list of everything I need for the poison and antidote by owl—"

"Antidote?" said Damien, furrowing his brow. "Why would I—?"

"No matter what, you never carry around a poison unless you've got the antidote," Vesperra told him impatiently. "It's one of the basic rules of potion-brewing. As I was saying, you'll send me everything I need once you've purchased all of it—wait, no—" She didn't know how Damien would be able to send her a package without the owl delivering it during breakfast, unless he sent a letter beforehand saying that he'd bought everything so she would know to wait outside on a certain day. And even then, the letter would come at breakfast. There were so many things that could go wrong, but then she was hit with an idea—

"Based on your resources for rare and possibly illegal substances, do you think that you'd be able to get everything—though you don't even have the list yet—before Christmas?"

"Well…" Damien drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. "Prob—yes. I should be able to."

"Then send the ingredients to me, safely wrapped, as a Christmas present. It'll be delivered directly to my room, and no one else will know I've been sent a package, let alone one of such things." Hesitating first, Vesperra extended her hand across the table. "Deal, then?"

Smirking, Damien took her hand and shook it, though not as heartily as he might have, for it would have been obvious to anyone looking at them that they'd just made some sort of deal. "It's a deal. Well," he added as he let go of her hand, "I suppose you'll want to get on with your holiday shopping? Or whatever else you planned on doing in Hogsmeade today?"

"I would," admitted Vesperra, glad that Damien hadn't insisted on them continuing the conversation and her telling him what she'd been up to for the past few months. And with politeness that was only forced because she wasn't used to being very polite to anyone, she said, "It's been—nice—seeing you, though."

"You too. Well, neither of us have any reason to stay here, so… let's go."

She obliged, and stood up from her chair as Damien did. She wasn't sure whether _Muffliato_ would continue to hold, but she guessed that the effects of the spell would wear off after she left. Without waiting for him, she maneuvered past the crowd in the inn once more, this time towards the door.

Taking a quick glance to her side, Vesperra didn't see Theodore Nott in his seat anymore—he must have left. Just as she stepped beyond the threshold of the Three Broomsticks and into the blizzard, she looked behind her, and gave Damien a sharp wave of goodbye.

"See you," he said, stepping out as well. Before she had the chance to reply, he spun on the spot with a faint pop underneath the howling of the wind, and Disapparated.

Vesperra didn't dawdle, nor did she spend longer than a second staring at the spot where he'd disappeared. As she walked up High Street, head bowed against the wind and snow, she thought about what she had just agreed to do, feeling resigned. The thought of being an indirect accomplice in a murder was weighing heavier and heavier on her, as though the silver _S_ on her necklace had suddenly become several pounds.

And all the while, she couldn't help but wonder with utmost curiosity _why_ Damien couldn't tell her the name of the man he wanted to poison. _But it doesn't matter,_ she thought as she turned and walked into the warm haven of Honeydukes. _I'll find out who it is a day or two after I send him the poison, when I see in the _Daily Prophet_ that someone's mysteriously died._

* * *

**So, not much Severus, but... we know a lot more about Damien now. And Vesperra has really landed herself right back in the Dark Arts, hasn't she? **

**Well, a lot of questions were posed in this epic chapter, so I'd like to see what you guys are wondering most about, what predictions/theories you have, etc... PLEASE REVIEW!**


	41. Book 3: Chapter 13

**I've finally gotten to Christmastime! I think you guys are really going to enjoy this chapter... Although if you're a squemish person, you might want to brace yourself for the end. Also, I've posted a few new pictures on my DeviantART (the link to which is in my profile), including sketches of Vesperra, Theodore Nott, and the other Slytherin girls. You should check them out. ^_^**

* * *

It was difficult to experience the rest of the Hogsmeade visit the way she had last time—the way one was _supposed_ to experience it—after having met with Damien. Vesperra wished she had told him a later time for them to meet, so at least she could have visited the shops and had a bit of what she hesitated to call 'fun' before having this weighing on her, numbing the thrill that she would have felt otherwise.

But she did, of course, purchase an abundance of sweets from Honeydukes, including Chocolate Cauldrons filled with firewhiskey and more Blood Pops. She wasn't as eager to eat them, though, and had even ignored many of the small children that had bumped into her in the crowded candy shop rather than glare at them. Her mind was too focused on one thing, and that was the poison that she was to brew.

However, she wasn't worrying about how she was going to pull this off, because she had already realized exactly what she could do to make sure that she wasn't caught by Severus or otherwise, and she trusted herself to brew it very well if not perfectly, though it would be a potion more advanced than she'd ever done before. Nor was she already feeling the heavy guilt of breaking her promise to Severus—Vesperra was, for the time being, just having trouble believing what she'd just agreed to do.

_I'm going to help murder someone… I'm actually going to help Damien murder someone… I'll be brewing a _deadly_ poison for this man…._ No matter how many times she said it to herself in her head with many different wordings and inflections, the statement never came any closer to seeming real. It was just a thought inside her head, a thought that couldn't possibly be true, nor would she try to make it true—but it was, and she _was_ going to do this.

The fact that she was doing something so illegal and so _evil_ didn't bring her guilt in itself, but she couldn't help but feel as though her heart was weighing her down as she walked through the snow, causing her feet to sink further into it, which thickened with every step she took up High Street as well as the blizzard.

After Honeydukes, there really wasn't much Vesperra wanted to do. Especially because no matter what she decided to do, it wouldn't matter in the realm of seriousness, which was where she was at the moment. It was nothing less than amazing to her that the students around her could laugh and feel so lighthearted, free of the burden of undistinguishable feelings that she had just allowed to be placed upon her. Vaguely, she wondered why the hell she had agreed, but then she reminded herself that she owed Damien.

At some point that could have been any time during her visit as far as she remembered later, Vesperra decided that the entire thing would seem more real once she was actually doing something—either when she was finding the proper poison in her book, or when she was brewing it. So she ignored the heaviness and went on wondering where she ought to go next, though she doubted anywhere she went would make her feel any better or even lessen the burning curiosity as to what the details that Damien had purposely neglected to mention were.

Resigned to the fact that it would be unwise to stay out in the snow too long, Vesperra made a quick decision and headed directly to Tomes and Scrolls, the Hogsmeade bookshop, in favor of any of the surrounding shops—she had, in fact, been standing in front of Zonko's when she decided this, but wanted to go in there almost less than she wanted to be frozen so badly that her entire body was just as numb as her feelings.

And then, through the numbness tinged with curiosity and heaviness, she realized that she had originally intended to try to find Severus something he'd like for his birthday in Hogsmeade. If any shop in the village sold anything that Severus would want rather than sneer at, it was Tomes and Scrolls. Well, probably more so the apothecary or Potage's Cauldrons, but Vesperra wouldn't be able to afford anything worth Severus's while in either of those.

Come to think of it, she had nowhere near enough money for most of the potion-related tomes in there either, and those that she _could_ afford were enough that she would be left with almost no money. _Dammit._ Sighing inwardly, she decided that she should spend some time in the bookshop anyway, both to avoid going out in the blizzard again and so she could look at some of the books she hadn't a chance to during the last Hogsmeade trip.

This time, Weasley and Granger weren't there—Vesperra was glad—but Theodore Nott was. His light brown hair that stuck up in the back and profile were visible from the front door. He was staring intently down at a book in his hand, flipping the page every few seconds or so. Frowning suddenly at it, he clapped it shut and slid it in between two books on the shelf in front of him.

Vesperra raised her eyebrows slightly, wondering what the chances were that she'd end up in the same shop as Nott again. The sight, however, didn't really surprise her, as Nott, like her, had always seemed rather bookish. She noticed, after walking further into the bookshop, that he was in the Potions section. And though the section was a large one and she could hardly say that she disliked him at all, she veered away from there, wanting to avoid any awkwardness.

However, as she passed him, stalking away towards the Creatures section, she caught him turning his head casually, presumably at the sound of her footsteps, but then freeze and immediately turn back out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think much of it, as he was likely just surprised to see her again today.

Just like much of the rest of the snowy village, the interior of the bookshop bore several holiday decorations. There was obviously nothing on the walls, because the walls were covered with books and the owners of this shop would have the utmost respect for books, but from the ceiling hung holly and mistletoe, which Vesperra thought was a very bad idea—bookstore owners were the last people she could think of that would want hormone-crazed teenagers snogging in their shop.

What looked like strings of snow were also hanging from the ceiling like some sort of frozen, yet flexible lace, but other than the wreath hung on the front door and the garland made of the same snowy string on the side-rails of the staircase that led to the flat above, that was as far as the decorations went.

Seeing Nott had reminded Vesperra of what Damien had told her earlier, and once again, almost completely wiped the poison from her mind. She was only vaguely aware of the heavy feeling in the back of her mind, and was glad for a distraction if only for a moment. The fact that Nott's father had bought Damien's Emberys was just too much of a coincidence for her to let go. An unexpected connection between acquaintances and friends and the like, it was just strange.

And as she thought of the vibrantly blue butterfly with ephemeral wings and a graceful, fluttering flight, she wondered whether the collection of books in this shop would hold any information about it. Two years ago, Damien had told her how rare the creature was, but perhaps one of the more expensive books in here would grant the reader more information than most other books did.

For Merlin knows how long—it might have been over an hour or merely ten minutes, Vesperra pulled book after book off the shelf, and flipped through the pages in an attempt to catch a flash of blue or the word 'Emberys', and each time the dusty pages yielded nothing of the sort, she stuffed it back in between its brethren. She tried to be discreet about it, for she didn't want the shop owners to come tell her that this was a bookshop, not a library, and that she better buy something or get out. At least, that's what she would have done if she owned a bookshop.

The other bookcases concealed her, however, so she figured she was safe for now. Several skimmings of books later, Vesperra came upon a tome of South American magical beasts and creatures, and mentally slapped herself for not having looked for something this specific in the first place, because she was bound to find it in there; she remembered Damien telling her that they lived in Brazil.

And there it was, after dugbogs and a particularly large section on Peruvian Vipertooth dragons, a mere two pages of information on the Emberys, much of which was explaining how much was unknown about them. Like each of the chapters in the rest of the book, there was a picture for the creature, moving as all Wizarding pictures did. The Emberys's wings fluttered slowly on the pages, slowly receding as though they were being singed from the tips, but the picture on the parchment could not compare to the mesmerizing quality of a real, live Emberys.

Nothing in the book told her what she hadn't already heard from Damien except vague things that she could have guessed on her own. Despite this, she was still satisfied rather than disappointed that she had found it. And instead of returning the book to its proper place, she had another idea fueled by burning curiosity that she couldn't shake, however much her natural instincts should have told her to.

Vesperra marked the page in the book with her thumb, and walked over to the section of books relating to potions, though not entirely expecting Nott to be there—he could very well have left the shop by now. But he was, indeed, there, still flipping through books and holding one under his arm, the title of which she couldn't read from this distance, though it was silver against the dark brown cover.

Her somewhat carpet-muffled footsteps were apparently heard by him, because Nott jerked his head up from the pages of the book he was scanning, and trained his eyes on her. It was clearly evident to him that she was purposely walking towards him, and so he closed the book he had and hastily shoved it back on the shelf.

"I want to ask you a question, Nott," said Vesperra, stopping in front of him and folding her arms.

"Er—okay," he said warily, and if Vesperra didn't know any better she'd have thought that he was nervous.

Knowing that Nott had seen her and Damien sitting together and that asking him this would do nothing further (and even if it did, there was always a Memory Charm), she let her one-finger grip on the front end of the book in her right hand go, and it fell open so the Emberys on the page was visible. Nott looked at it as she held it up, and then curiously back to her.

"What did your father do with the Emberys?" she asked. Vesperra had been disappointed to know that it was sold at all, and wanted to know whether Mr. Nott appreciated it as much as Damien did, or if he was simply a collector that prized impressive, expensive creatures. Narrowing her eyes at Nott, she arched an eyebrow.

Nott's curious expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but then he let it relax. "He keeps it in a different cage now—it's more like a bubble, actually. And he has it in the drawing room as some sort of decoration. It's sick…." He looked down at the fluttering representation in the book, and donned a brief look of disgust. So did Vesperra, automatically deciding that she hated Nott's father. Sure, she'd tortured helpless owls and other small animals before, when she'd been practicing those curses in her first year, but the Emberys was far more interesting and worthy of study and respect.

After the short silence, Nott said, "Is that why you were sitting with that man today in the Three Broomsticks?" There was the undisguised air of having been keeping himself from asking this before in his voice. "You were discussing the Emberys?"

Only slightly surprised that Nott had come to this conclusion, Vesperra paused, but only briefly. His assumption was rather convenient, because it meant she could confirm it and wouldn't have to fear further investigation. It was the perfect lie, just set up for her already.

"Yes, it was," she said in a defeated tone, sighing to make it believable. "You're not planning on telling anyone else, are you?"

She figured her expression and composure must have been threatening, because Nott's eyebrows rose immediately in alarm.

"Of course not! Why would I?" he said. Something curious then happened; Nott started to take in a breath but stopped short, and visibly shrunk as though he had said something he shouldn't have. Vesperra regarded him with a cock of her head, but said nothing about it.

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't, since you never told anyone about the voice thing…." She remembered the disembodied voice she had heard on three separate occasions last year, which had turned out to be a Basilisk that resided in the Chamber of Secrets. "And it better stay that way."

With that, she turned away from him and, first returning the tome on South American creatures to its spot several shelves away, she began perusing the potions section for books that Severus probably didn't already own, though she knew she couldn't hope to actually buy any of them. She didn't acknowledge Nott again, nor did he say anything to her. Soon enough, however, Vesperra felt that she had spent enough time in there and that the longer she stayed in Hogsmeade, the blizzard outside would only get thicker and make it more difficult to get back to Hogwarts.

As she pulled up her scarf, which she had loosened upon walking in the warm shop, Nott closed the book he was holding again and looked up at her.

"You leaving?"

Vesperra gave him a sharp nod, wondering why he cared.

"Why not wait until the blizzard dies down a little? You'll freeze out there."

Noting that Nott was acting like Severus, she frowned at him. "Not if I keep walking. I'll take my chances, anyway. It's really none of your concern."

He looked somewhat affronted, but didn't say anything else. Vesperra hesitated slightly in pushing open the door and walking back out into the flurry of snow. She had to pause for a moment to remember which way was toward Hogwarts, since there was only a few feet of visible space ahead of her in each direction. The heaviness of what Damien had convinced her to do for him was upon her once more as she trudged down High Street with nothing more than the dark, undistinguishable shapes of other people around her as well as the lone squares of light that were shop windows. She didn't know whether any others were heading back to Hogwarts as well, but she did know that they didn't technically have to return to the castle for a few hours.

Whether or not the blizzard would ease up later and thus make it a smarter idea to find refuge in another shop and leave later, Vesperra wanted to get back to Hogwarts as soon as she could. There was nothing for her in Hogsmeade at the moment, and she would likely get more time with Severus with the castle empty but for some of the teachers and the first and second years.

* * *

The liquid below his face bubbled and frothed slightly, a forresty green to contrast with the black of the cauldron. A thin, sallow-skinned hand grasped an ebony-hilted knife and moved carefully across the table, skillfully cutting a lovage stem so that each piece was the same size, not a millimeter too short or too long. Twenty-one years of experience with potion-making, both in his student and professional years, had led to this task being a fairly easily and mechanical one. He could likely do this blindfolded, though he would never try.

Severus stared down his hooked nose into the Befuddlement Draught that was nearly finished. When he scooped up the lovage with the edge of the knife and dumped it into the cauldron in one, swift movement, the liquid lightened to the precise shade of green that it was meant to be at its finished stage. Satisfied, he picked up his wand, which was lying on the table alongside the knife, and cleared the table of all the residue and bits of now-unusable ingredients with a single flick of it. After lading the still-frothy potion into several flasks, he removed his gloves.

As it was a Hogsmeade visit day, Vesperra was gone from the castle and would be for much of the day. This time, however, Severus had no Wolfsbane Potion to brew, no Lupin or Potter to make him irritable and irrationally angry, and no incessant reminders of Lily's death, so he wasn't feeling selfish—he wanted her to go and have fun. It wasn't as though he wouldn't have liked her company, but he didn't want it so badly that he couldn't do something else to keep himself busy until later that evening, when they would be able to talk through the journals.

So he had decided to kill time by brewing, as he often did, especially before Vesperra had come along and filled a spot of loneliness in his heart that he hadn't even known was there as well as given him something to keep himself from getting bored. Severus didn't necessarily _need_ a Befuddlement Draught, not now, nor did he expect so sometime in the future, but brewing often calmed him down and kept his mind at ease. Besides, it was always safe to have any and every sort of potion in your stock, just in case—especially if you were a Potions Master.

However, Severus didn't like being repetitive, so even though there was more than enough time to brew something else that he may or may not be running out of, he didn't want to do it. It was nearly lunchtime, anyway, so he decided that he could sit down and read until then.

The Great Hall was nearly empty but for the first and second years, which created wide gaps at the House tables that he knew would be far wider the next day. Even a good number of the teachers were missing, including Hagrid, McGonagall, and Flitwick, who had set off to Hogsmeade with the Minister of Magic earlier.

Severus noticed, as he habitually scanned the Great Hall, that Potter was not sitting at the Gryffindor table as he should have been, since he had no permission to be in Hogsmeade. It wasn't at all difficult to tell, because Potter's loathed face should have been obvious among the twenty-or-so Gryffindors, especially since he was a head taller than most of them. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious, and looked immediately to Lupin, who was a ways along the Staff Table and having a conversation with Professor Burbage. Had Potter been in Lupin's office again? Without Severus there, had the werewolf _done_ something this time?

He wanted to refuse to believe it, but it just seemed too likely now. Of course, Potter could have easily been finishing the homework that the brat had been too lazy to complete during the week and neglected to ask Granger to do for him, or out on the Quidditch field, practicing on his own—Severus scowled at the thought as he always did when associating Potter with Quidditch, as it only enhances the likenesses between him and his father.

His heart now pounding against his ribs, Severus decided, now full of dread, that he would have to wait until dinner later that day to see whether Potter was alive. He couldn't simply go to Lupin's office after lunch or corner the man in the staffroom and question him—if he had done something, why on earth would he tell the truth? _Wait—_Severus mentally slapped himself. _Legilimency. Obviously…_

Those in the Great Hall left at different times, including the staff that had remained rather than gone to Hogsmeade. So, Severus found himself leaving a bit earlier than he normally would have, as Lupin was apparently either no longer hungry or feeling too ill to eat anymore. Upon seeing the man rise and push his chair in out of the corner of his eye, Severus waited a few seconds so as to not look suspicious, and then did the same.

When Severus entered the staffroom behind him, Lupin hardly failed to notice, and didn't seem to think it was a coincidence. Turning to him, Lupin smiled in acknowledgement. Before Lupin had the chance to say anything or even look curious, Severus said,

"Lupin, have you seen Potter at all today?" Folding his arms, he stared directly into the man's eyes.

"No, actually… I haven't," said Lupin, frowning. "I don't think I saw him at lunch, either. Why do you want to know where he is? He _hasn't_ failed to turn up for a detention…?"

As Lupin spoke, Severus delved into Lupin's mind, and was swallowed by the man's pupils, thrust into darkness in a matter of milliseconds. An extremely brief excursion in Lupin's mind was all it took to scrape the surface and see that he, indeed, had _not_ seen Potter at all today, nor had he harmed the boy in any way. Not bothering to delve further, Severus released the connection at once, and was once again standing in the staffroom, in front of Lupin.

Though glad that Potter was safe (for all he knew), Severus was somehow disappointed with the fact that he had yet to gain any concrete proof that Lupin was not to be trusted.

"No," he replied. "I simply thought it was suspicious, especially considering that he didn't show up for lunch." Before turning and walking out of the staffroom, Severus arched an eyebrow at the man in front of him, hopefully making it obvious to Lupin what he suspected of Potter—that the boy had somehow made it out of the castle without detection, and had gone to Hogsmeade despite his lack of a permission form.

Though it was currently only a theory, the idea enraged Severus. He certainly wouldn't put it past Potter to do that—his father, Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew had snuck out of the castle all the time, and the boy had already shown an incessant disregard for rules he thought below him.

It was with frustration that he strode back down to the dungeons, his cape whipping out behind him and billowing ominously for anyone that could see—though no one was there to see. Once back inside his office, he decided that, despite it being about a week early, he ought to inventory his private stores. It would give him something to do, and it would keep him from being busy too close to Christmas. Vesperra would surely like to help him, but inventorying was always an hour or so of not much conversation between them, just examining the contents of the jars and vials in his storeroom and writing things down. He'd rather do that on his own, and use all his completely free time for her.

However, not too long after Severus began marking his inventory sheet (he was going in alphabetical order, and was only on the C's), there was a knock on his door—and not just any knock. He hadn't been expecting to hear it in the least, and, as confused as he was, he couldn't say that he wasn't pleased.

Immediately, he hastily scribbled a number next to _Cockatrice Feathers_, set the jar back on the shelf, and set the parchment and quill on the top of the ladder as he climbed back down, hurried out of the storeroom, and went to open the door.

* * *

Vesperra's black winter coat was sparsely covered in snow, as was her hair, and it looked as though she had very bad dandruff. Her scarf hung loose around her neck, giving him the full view of her face, which looked absolutely frozen; her skin was paler than ever, but the tip of her disproportionately large nose was red. Rather than giving him the sense that she'd had the time of her life as it would have with anyone else, however, she didn't look exhilarated at all. She was frowning slightly—though that may have just been confusion from the shuffling she had just heard.

"Vesperra!" greeted Severus in a voice that, if any other students had been around to hear it, they'd have been confused and scared. He raised his eyebrows and immediately reached for her shoulder out of habit, gently pulling her into his office and to the couch, first casting an Imperturbable Charm. "Not that I don't want you here—because I do, but what are you doing here?"

"I left Hogsmeade early," said Vesperra. She had decided to head straight to Severus's office, because she figured she would be able to keep her mind off of her agreement with Damien for now.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Have you not noticed that it's a bloody blizzard out there? I couldn't find much to do, and without you with me, it was a bit dull, especially with nearly freezing my arse off—so I decided to come back before the blizzard got even worse and harder to walk through."

Even as she spoke, her lips were numb, as was much of her face. Her ears, however, were stinging horribly, and she imagined that they had turned as red as Weasley's hair.

Feeling bad for not being able to go with her, Severus moved his hand up from her shoulder to lightly touch her cheek. _Perhaps,_ he thought, _we'll figure out a way on the next trip or in the next year._

But what he felt under his fingers could have been ice if he hadn't been looking at her. He knew that she could handle cold to the extreme, though, so he felt only a twinge of pity for her.

"Merlin, Vesperra, you're freezing," he mused, holding the side of her face in one hand and rubbing it so the friction would warm her a bit.

"Really?" said Vesperra, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "I had no idea."

Smirking at her remark as well, Severus only hesitated a split second before letting go of her face and standing up, saying, "Wait here a minute." Without waiting to see Vesperra nod in understanding—sort of, he walked quickly through the open doorway to his storeroom and continued on through the door on the other side that led to the classroom. It was hardly half a minute before he returned with a flask that was filled with a dark purple liquid.

"Here," he said as he sat down again and handed it to her. "That should warm you up—if you're not stubborn and actually agree to drink it, that is."

Vesperra frowned. "Who said I wasn't going to drink it?" It wasn't a Pepper-up Potion, so she would not have the side-affect of having her ears smoke for several hours, and so she hardly objected to it. Giving Severus a slightly defiant look, she uncorked it and downed it, tilting her head back.

"Relax, I was teasing," said Severus, taking the empty flask back and Vanishing it. "I'd have thought that you would realize that after knowing me for over two years. But then again, it's really not as fun if you don't react, so… I can't complain."

Frowning still, but now with a wry smile underneath it, Vesperra hit his arm with the back of her hand. The potion he'd given her was already working, and the effect it was having felt a lot like butterbeer. She suddenly couldn't help but think that it would be nice to sit with Severus in the Three Broomsticks and talk over two tankards of butterbeer… or share one.

Glancing past her, Severus noticed that Vesperra had with her a small Honeydukes bag, from which was protruding a box like looked an awful lot like one of Chocolate Cauldrons. He didn't say anything, however, because he she had bought that with her own money and—though he was sure that she would—if she didn't want to share with him, she didn't have to, nor did he want to make her feel obligated to.

"Were you—er, busy, when I knocked?" asked Vesperra, remembering the shuffling noises and the minute it had taken for Severus to get to the door.

"Well, I was inventorying—"

"A week early? And without me?"

"Yes—it gets a bit boring here when you're gone and there's almost no students to terrorize. Do you want to help with the rest of it? I've barely started."

"Of course," said Vesperra, standing up and pulling her with him—she obviously wasn't strong enough to pull him up on her own, but he stood up anyway at the tug of her hand. "Really, I'd have thought that you would realize that after knowing me for two years."

But rather than hitting her, even lightly, Severus looked down his hooked nose at her and smirked, and then stepped away as they crossed the threshold into the storeroom to climb back up the ladder and get the parchment and quill. He handed those to Vesperra, and they continued where he had left off.

So far, Severus's company had managed to get her mind off of Damien, but now, as she was focusing on ingredients, Vesperra's agreement to brew a poison flashed through her mind incessantly. And the presence of Severus only added guilt of breaking her promise to him, of indirectly lying to him by keeping so much from him, and for having another friend behind his back. She felt like she was betraying him, and she could only imagine the fury he'd be in if he found out…

_"You—you _promised_ me! You promised me you'd avoid that path, and here you are walking right into it! I suppose the Dark Arts are more important than me, and so this _Damien_ bloke can give you all you want? Why else would you aid him in murdering a person unless you preferred him to me? I know I'm your friend, but I can't forgive you for this."_

The mere thought of Severus saying anything like that to her was horrifying to the core, and Vesperra felt like she'd been doused in cold water. However, she didn't show it as she went on with writing the numbers that Severus told her.

_But I've kept things from him before,_ she thought. _I never told him about the first time I cursed Malfoy, or either of the things that I bought in Knockturn Alley. And he keeps plenty of things from me, too. Either way, he won't find out. I'll make sure of that—unless I find some way to tell him without him getting angry. It's too late to change my mind, anyway._

Luckily for Vesperra, guilt could not and would not eat her alive. It was stress that did that to her, not guilt—though she was likely to be under some amount of stress once Damien sent all the ingredients to her. She was hardly a compassionate or altruistic person, and even the awful feeling of breaking her promise to Severus, whom she loved more than anything, could only weigh her down and shroud her heart a bit deeper in coldness than it already was.

"…Veela hairs—five," said Severus a good hour and a half later as he carefully placed what looked like golden strings back in a thin phial.

Vesperra's hand paused with the quill directly over the parchment. "Veela hairs? You didn't have those last month, unless I'm prematurely going senile and losing my memory…."

"No, I didn't have them last month. Dumbledore managed to procure them for me—he has contacts in just about every country in existence, and when the Veela hairs came into view he decided to purchase them for me…. But it's coming out of my salary," he added, sneering slightly.

"Those are used in Love Potions, aren't they?" asked Vesperra in a mostly indifferent tone.

"Yes, but only the extremely powerful ones, Amortentia especially. It adds to the obsession that the drinker would feel for the brewer and wrongly perceive as love—nothing can create real love, of course, not even a Veela's charms."

He thought of Lily, and then looked down at Vesperra through a side glance and slight smirk, though it was fondly all the same.

For a moment, Vesperra wondered if Severus's look had meant that he knew her exact feelings towards him, but then she took to wondering whether she would be glad or afraid about it.

Only a few jars later, they were finished, and had found that nothing was out of place or missing. Glancing at the clock, Severus realized that it would be about an hour or so before the rest of the school was expected to have returned to Hogwarts.

"The blizzard better not have become _less_ harsh in the past couple hours," said Vesperra when Severus mentioned this, "or I'm going to be really mad."

"So you'd find it frustrating that they didn't have to suffer, but you did?"

"I didn't _suffer_, Severus… but yes."

The rest of their day consisted of the usual conversation, as well as the consumption of Chocolate Cauldrons (though only a few this time, since they didn't want to waste them) and, for Vesperra, a couple Blood Pops. Severus politely declined when she asked if he wanted to try one, and honestly couldn't believe she liked them. But he supposed that everyone had their own tastes….

Later at dinner, the rest of the school was in end-of-term high spirits, and both Severus and Vesperra were glad that they'd be rid of them all very soon. However, Vesperra had other things on her mind, and realized that she wouldn't likely be enjoying the second half of the holidays very much.

Less than halfway through the hour, Severus noticed Vesperra get up from her seat at the Slytherin table and leave. Figuring that she had probably been mercilessly taunted by Malfoy and the others to the point of just leaving, he scowled to himself. But he didn't leave as well, because he'd have to wait another good ten or twenty minutes to make it look completely normal.

So he waited.

* * *

But Vesperra had not, in fact, left because of the other Slytherins—though they _had_ been particularly nasty at dinner. She had left because she had told Damien she would send him the list of ingredients that evening—but it was not only keeping her word that kept her from waiting until tomorrow; she thought that the sooner she sent the letter, the better, for it would give him more time to purchase them.

Once out of the Great Hall, Vesperra hurried down to the Common Room so quickly that, by the time she was in her dorm, her calves and lungs were burning. Ignoring her rapid heartbeat and lack of fresh oxygen, especially with her being this far underground, she threw open the lid of her school trunk and dug in it, throwing aside clothes and other books until she found the large, slightly dusty book of poisons that she hadn't opened in a while.

At the same time, she drew out a sheaf of fresh parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle. After several minutes of hastily flipping through pages and forcing her eyes to dart across them as quickly as possible, Vesperra found the exact poison she had been looking for, and stopped on the page.

It was called _Biduum Anapnea_, and it had been invented by—Vesperra's eyes widened—Severus Prince. The shock didn't last long, however, as she guessed that Severus's great-grandfather had invented a number poisons, and that most of them, if not all of them, were likely in this book.

But she had no time for musing about Severus's ancestry, so she looked down the list of ingredients, copying them onto the parchment with their respective amounts as she did, and making sure not to miss a single detail. There would be no preliminary greeting on the letter, for she wanted to hurry up and write everything—and because it really wasn't necessary.

Many of the ingredients she remembered from one of the three apothecaries in Hogsmeade, Knockturn Alley, and Diagon Alley that she had been inside, and some were even simple ingredients that she could easily get from the student cupboard in Severus's classroom—which she didn't write down. It seemed that there was only a few things that would truly difficult to find, but Damien had resources. He should be able to handle it.

Vesperra did the same with the antidote for the poison, but came upon a note next to diced licorice roots—they had to be fresh, and 'fresh' in this context meant that the root had to be pulled from the ground no more than two days before used in the potion. Her heart stopped for a moment, wildly thinking that this would ruin everything, but then copied it down and wrote a note to Damien next to it, saying:

_Needs to be fresh. Make sure you can purchase it right out of the ground, and don't do so until Christmas Eve, just before you send it._

When she had, at last, written everything she would need and signed her name with an untidy scrawl in her haste, she rushed right back out of her dorm, rolling the parchment into a tight scroll as she did. The Common Room, luckily, was empty, and the majority of the school was still in the Great Hall, judging by the noise and bustle coming from the open doors.

Being careful not to let anyone that might be looking out of the exit of the Great Hall at an angle see her, Vesperra hurried up the marble staircase to the owlery. Once again, she arrived at her destination breathless and with burning calves, but now she was feeling quite dizzy as well. Holding her head in one hand, she regained her balance and depth perception. With that, she pulled out her wand and magically sealed the scroll, and then went to the closest owl, not picky at all about it. As long as it got to Damien after not too long.

After tying the scroll to the owl's leg and sending it off, Vesperra took off down the staircase again, hoping that Severus didn't return to his office before she could get back there. However, she needn't have worried, because it wasn't even until she arrived at Severus's office door that she heard the distant noise of the students above her leaving the Great Hall and passing through the Entrance Hall. Catching her breath, she sat down on one side of his door, forcing her lungs to calm down before Severus got there, and realized just how fast she had to have gone to accomplish all that before dinner ended.

Several minutes passed, in which Vesperra's heartbeat hadn't relaxed completely, and distant footsteps belonging to one person grew louder and louder until they materialized around the corner of the corridor as a man in black, billowing robes that gave him the appearance of a large bat in the distance—though it was rather attractive to Vesperra.

* * *

"Have you been waiting out here the whole time?" asked Severus as he approached, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it.

"Yeah," she lied, having been unable to think of any excuse for going back to her dorm before coming back to his office, which she would have used if she had one. He placed his hand between her shoulder blades and gently led her in, then cast the Imperturbable Charm again.

Severus didn't ask her why she had left dinner early, since he already had a good guess; and if it had been Malfoy, she wouldn't want to talk about it, anyway.

As Severus sat down next to her and she leaned on him, her heart rate calmed down easily, and Vesperra felt relieved that he didn't seem to suspect anything.

"You know," said Severus a while into the ensuing conversation (around eleven), during a gap between topics, "we had much of the day together, and yet you didn't practice your Patronus at all."

"Well, we did agree on tomorrow originally…." said Vesperra quietly, as was her habit when it was late in the evening. "And we might as well wait until we have literally _all_ day to do it."

"In that case, Vesperra, perhaps you should return to your dorm and get some sleep. If we are to spend the _entire_ day tomorrow together, you need to be up relatively early."

"Severus, when have you ever known me to sleep in even when I don't get enough sleep? I don't need that much sleep, anyway.

He exhaled as a cross between a huff and a sigh. "I don't want you to adopt unhealthy sleep patterns, though. It's not good for your sanity. Besides, I have to begin brewing the Wolfsbane Potion again on Monday, and if you stay up hours into the night with me tonight, you'll be falling asleep on me tomorrow, and we can't have that when I have a strict schedule to work to."

Frowning, Vesperra looked back on her internal calendar and realized that it had, indeed, nearly been a month since Severus had last started the Wolfsbane Potion. She hated the full moon's timing—why couldn't it come _after_ Christmas, so Vesperra could at least have put her time without Severus to use? _Hmph._

"You're right," she said in mock-defeat, sitting up straighter. "Again. As you always are. Because you know _all_ the answers to life, the Universe, and everything—"

Severus snorted. "Oh, shut up. There are _plenty_ of things that I don't—"

"_Teasing,_ Severus." Vesperra smirked and stood up from his couch while he remained in his seat. "And I actually do agree. You need as much sleep as possible as well, or else you'll go insane the upcoming three days…. At least there won't be any classes to keep you busy. You'll have meals and naps—but still."

"Night, then," said Severus from his seat on the couch, smiling very slightly at her despite her last comment making him seem like a small child.

She had already begun walking towards the door, though a bit reluctantly. "Night."

* * *

As planned, Vesperra woke up just as early as usual and got dressed before heading out to go to Severus's office, but the Common Room had more people than it usually did this early. It was most likely because term had officially ended and the vast majority of the school would be going home later. She supposed some of them just couldn't wait to leave. Ignoring the jeering, she stepped out into the dungeon corridors.

Severus was already awake and had prepared tea for them—mostly because he knew she didn't like coffee, and didn't feel like making a pot of it just for himself while she drank tea.

Sunday went as their Saturdays often did, with Vesperra attempting to produce a Patronus and Severus helping her and telling her what she should do to improve. Focusing hard was really the key point, and she simply had to get used to the energy-draining part of it.

"For this only being your sixth week," said Severus after her third try, in which the dense shield of silvery fog had lasted for several minutes, leaving her drained of energy and slumped against him after they sat down on the couch, "you're doing amazingly. I think I saw it starting to form on your last try."

At that, Vesperra's eyelids shot all the way open and she raised her head up from him arm. "Really? Did you see any distinguishable features? I couldn't see much but blinding light—I was too close to it, and too focused on keeping it up."

"Not really—from where I was standing, I could only see that it was starting to become much less dome-like, and less of a shield than it was a mass of fog."

Relaxing her head back on his upper arm, Vesperra felt sure that she should master the Patronus Charm soon enough now that it was starting to form into a corporeal shape. Proud of herself, she smiled inwardly and absentmindedly pressed herself closer to Severus. The extra pressure on his arm didn't go unnoticed by him, and, as he glanced down at her, he took it to mean that she was craving his closeness, and obligingly removed his arm from between them and put it around her. She was slightly surprised, but didn't mind.

"Do you have any idea of what your Patronus might be?" Severus asked. He'd been wondering for a while whether her Patronus would take the same shape as his—a doe. It wasn't that he thought that she loved him like he had loved Lily—and still did, whereas his Patronus had taken the same form as hers, but he knew that if it did end up being a doe, that would prove it, because a creature as innocent as that was about the farthest from her personality and everything that had ever brought her happiness.

Vesperra hesitated a moment, and said, "No—well, maybe, but…" She trailed off, not wanting to tell him her prediction, because then she'd have to tell him the reason, and she just couldn't bring herself to tell him that every single one of her happy memories had been about him. It was just too sentimental, and too mushy—and they didn't have to say stupid things to convey feelings like that to each other. He would likely understand, anyway.

With her leaning against him while his left arm pulled her tighter, he could feel her heartbeat against him, and realized that it was speeding up. Severus suddenly felt bad for asking that question, and stupid for not thinking that she might not want to answer. Instead of apologizing, which would have been a bad idea in this context, he said,

"I suppose we're going to have to wait and see, then."

"Yeah. You know what, Severus," said Vesperra, inhaling and sitting up straighter, "I'm ready to try again."

With a side-glance, he could once again see the reignited determination in her eyes, which had likely been sparked by the prospect of getting closer than ever to seeing what form her Patronus would take. He loosened his hold on her waist, allowing her to stand up, and took his usual spot—leaning against the wall."

Raising her wand at a nonexistent dementor, Vesperra recalled the happiest memory of her life as she was so used to doing now, saying "_Expecto Patronum!_" and concentrating with all her might…

The gas didn't take a form by the end of that evening, but even from where she was standing, it was obviously just on the verge of it.

* * *

The next day, Vesperra awoke not entirely disappointed that she wouldn't be able to see Severus as often that day or for the following two. It annoyed her, but at least he would be able to spare some time to talk through the journals, and she could get the homework she'd been assigned over the holidays done during that time, so it wouldn't keep her busy when she had better things to do.

Before going to breakfast on Monday midmorning, Vesperra stopped in the middle of the Common Room instead of passing straight through; she had never seen it completely empty before. In fact, she started thinking, she could actually spend some time in here without being disturbed now, especially since the only other Slytherin that was staying over the holidays, who was likely already at breakfast at the moment, would say nothing to her when they shared the Common Room.

It wasn't as though she didn't like staying in her dorm when she read or did homework, though; her four-poster was comfortable enough and she rather liked the privacy. The fact that it was a small, dim room didn't bother her at all, either. But never before had she able to use the Slytherin Common Room for its actual purpose, and she couldn't help but want to do that now that she had the chance. There were low-backed green and black sofas and chairs around the room that she could choose from rather than only having her bed or the floor as choices, and there was actually a fireplace in here.

So, as Vesperra headed to the Great Hall for a breakfast free of taunting or anything else of the sort, she decided that she could do her homework and spend a lot of her time during the holidays that she wasn't with Severus in the Common Room.

Returning about a half an hour later and giving the blank stone wall the new password: "Harlequin," Vesperra went to her dorm only to grab her schoolbag, then, for the first time, picked an armchair—the one closest to the crackling fire—and sat down to begin her work.

Unlike most other days, she took her time with her essays, partly because she wanted to stretch out the work so that it lasted longer and didn't leave her with nothing to do while she couldn't spend time with Severus, partly because she was occasionally spending about twenty minutes talking to Severus over the journals when he had breaks, and partly because she couldn't get enough of looking around at the details of the Slytherin Common Room that she'd never noticed before on her brief walks through.

Snakes and skulls, she noticed, made up the bulk of the decoration in there, and it accented the green and black very well. The leather chairs and sofas had buttons and feet shaped like skulls, and the wooden backs of them were carved like serpents. Around the fireplace was stone, ornately carved; a very detailed Slytherin crest protruded from the stone directly above the center of the grate, as did a life-like serpent's head from above the mantle, on which stood what looked like several human skulls.

Close to the low ceiling were long, Victorian style windows with iron cross-hatching and an intricate serpentine design in the metal in the middle of each. Behind those were the murky depths of the lake and what Vesperra guessed was magically reinforced glass. Often throughout the next few days, she'd be drinking in the grandeur of the room and would see fish swim past, and occasionally even the Giant Squid (which she had never seen more than a tentacle of before, but now decided that she didn't care for it very much; it was a bit disturbing to have an eye the size of a dinner plate stare at you). Once or twice she could have sworn that she saw a merperson swim by, and she was amazed that she was only finding all this out now, in her third year.

The fifth year boy was almost always in the Common Room as well, but he remained reclined on one of the couches and, like Vesperra had expected, left her alone and mostly acted as though she wasn't even there. It was the way she liked it, and she never acknowledged him, either.

Vesperra would have admitted that she enjoyed having a room like the Common Room almost all to herself, for the atmosphere suited her very well. If only the rest of her House weren't such arses to her, she could spend more time in here… but they wouldn't change, and she wouldn't expect them to. So she resigned to the fact that she couldn't get too used to it, since everything would have to go back to normal once the new term started.

And all the while, she was still suffering from the anxiety and dread of what she would have to do because of her agreement, and it never left her mind, though it was sometimes only lingering in the back of it. After Christmas, everything would change, and she would have to have a well thought-out plan for her brewing schedule so as to not raise suspicion from Severus or anyone else.

In the free time she had that followed the last of her holiday homework, she was planning. With no one else in the Common Room that gave a damn about what she was doing, she didn't think it would matter if she had her book of poisons out, so she did it in there. It wasn't so much time consuming as it was mentally energy-consuming (though it _did_ take several hours); she exhausted her natural resource of intelligence by the time she was finished calculating every possibility within reach and working past every detail, and still, she was basing quite a few things on chance, and there was always the possibility of even more possibilities.

Vesperra had it all written down, the parchment on which was covered with many things scribbled-out, because she didn't expect herself to remember every detail, just as she wouldn't ever remember the exact wording of any of the essays she'd ever done. When she finished, it was clearly very late in the evening, as the fifth year had left to his dorm.

She read it over a few times to make sure there was nothing that she had forgotten to account for and to possibly add something that came to mind—nothing did, though. As it already had while she had originally been devising the plan, it hit her right in the lower stomach, harder than before, that this might require her to lie directly to Severus so many times that she didn't even want to think about it. Not only would she have to lie to him, but she would undoubtedly make him feel bad when he did nothing to deserve it with those lies.

A large amount of the limited time they normally had to spend together would have to be interfered with as well. After getting the entire façade on paper, Vesperra accepted that it would be foolish to think that Severus wouldn't notice her sudden behavior changes, which she would try her hardest to prevent—but she couldn't stop them altogether, as some would be necessary. He would likely sense that something was wrong, but Vesperra knew from experience that he most likely wouldn't go so far as to follow her. When she had been plotting revenge on Malfoy in her first year, Severus had noticed her stressful state and appeared concerned, but he had ceased questioning her when she told him nothing was wrong, whether he had believed it or not.

Even with her self-reassurances that lying to him like this was necessary, it didn't feel any better—only worse. Her head in one hand as she slumped in the leather chair, having put away the sheets of parchment holding her plan, Vesperra's expression convulsed into one of extreme pain, and one hot tear streamed down her face, trembling on the tip of her overlarge nose before plummeting off the edge of the chair and into oblivion.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she whispered hoarsely to the floor, her throat burning. "I'm _so, bloody sorry_…."

* * *

Severus wasn't having a much better time than she was. And brewing the Wolfsbane Potion wasn't even the half it for him—but he, too, was stressed for a reason that he couldn't tell his best friend.

Now that the castle was nearly empty but for the staff and seven students, one of those being Potter, this would be the perfect time for Lupin to attempt to help Black into the castle again. Potter could be easily cornered and there would be no witnesses if Black did manage to get into Hogwarts a second time.

There was no doubt that the reason that so many students were going home for the holidays was that their parents were afraid of the same thing he was; how could they not be, when a dangerous murderer had already broken into the castle once and was still on the loose?

When Severus brought Lupin the gobletful on Wednesday afternoon, the man already seemed rather ill and unfit to do much. His health preceding the full moon in the past months had seemed to be getting worse each time, despite the fact that he was drinking perfectly brewed Wolfsbane Potion. Severus wondered if he truly was drinking it all, or if Lupin was going to intentionally transform when he was near Potter The thought angered him, and filled him with even more worry for Potter's life.

His promise to Dumbledore all those years ago had been to protect Harry Potter, keep him alive so that Lily would not have died in vain. The Headmaster had told him that when Voldemort returned, Potter would be in horrible danger—well, Sirius Black escaping Azkaban had had essentially the same effect. And Severus wouldn't be keeping his promise if he didn't try, to the best of his ability, to make sure that Potter was put in no mortal harm.

So, for the umpteenth time, Severus made sure to watch Potter more closely than he normally would have, as well as Lupin. It wasn't necessary to follow the boy everywhere (which he would have had to do under cover of a Disillusionment Charm), but he at least made sure that Potter and Lupin were never in close proximity. Any time that he couldn't (or just didn't) watch the boy, Potter was still mostly safe, for Black wouldn't be able to get into Gryffindor Tower.

And otherwise, Severus just had to wait for every next meal to see whether Potter showed up, meaning that he was alive. It made him rather tense even into the few days after he was finished with the Wolfsbane Potion, when he was around Vesperra. He had taken detours to keep an eye on Lupin and Potter that required him to neglect her a tiny bit, and he couldn't tell her why. Severus hoped he wasn't unintentionally upsetting her.

"You alright?" she asked him on Friday afternoon, when she had evidently noticed his stony look and the colder-than-usual look in his black, tunnel-like eyes. Squeezing his upper arm softly, she leaned slightly forward and looked up at him, concern in her own eyes.

The squeeze brought his mind back to the present, and caused a sort of warmth in his chest that hadn't been there before. He turned his head immediately down to her, his look softened a bit.

"I'm fine," he said, reminding himself of Vesperra. Covering the hand that was still on his upper arm with his right one, he managed a hopefully reassuring half-smile. "I'm just… a bit worried." Pausing, he decided that he could tell her this without mentioning that he had to protect Potter. "I think Lupin might try to get Black inside the castle again soon—if Lupin's the one that got Black into the castle in the first place, that is."

Not at all to his surprise, Vesperra didn't seem shocked at his theory, nor did she seem as though this were something she hadn't thought about.

"Well, last time, it was on Halloween, when everyone was distracted and celebrating, so it would make sense if he tried it again at Christmas, while everyone's distracted again, and the castle's nearly empty," said Vesperra, letting her hand drop from his arm and rest in between them on top of Severus's left hand. "But it would be a bit predictable, don't you think?"

At that, Severus leaned back and almost smirked, gauging an eyebrow raise out of Vesperra. "Yes, it would be. And any sensible person wouldn't choose such a time—but Lupin and Black are hardly as smart as you. We're the only ones really on our guard for this sort of thing, anyway, since we're the only ones that suspect Lupin has had a hand in Black both breaking into the castle and successfully remaining hidden from the Ministry. They wouldn't care about whether something's predictable or not, either; for most people that are mad, or werewolves, or anyone particularly powerful, their actions will pull through whether or not the victim's expecting it."

As he said this, he thought bitterly of how Voldemort had sought to kill Harry Potter on Halloween night. It was an obvious choice of a day, but that didn't matter, because he was Lord Voldemort, and if he really wanted to kill someone, there was nothing they could do. How ironic it must have been, to be surrounded by young Trick-or-Treaters who simply thought he was in a costume like the rest of them….

"Hm." Vesperra frowned, leaning back as well. "Do you think Black is going to do it, then? Attempt to break in again tomorrow, during the Christmas feast?" Her heart rate sped up at the thought, dread that had nothing to do with the poison creeping upon her.

"…I don't doubt it," said Severus, his expression steeling itself and his eyes growing cold again. The best he could do for the rest of that night during the no longer casual, but serious conversation with Vesperra was to not lose the feeling of her hand in his, the feeling that he wasn't alone in this, nor the feeling that Christmas may, indeed, be relatively good for him this year.

* * *

For the past two years, Vesperra had woken up on Christmas morning much differently than she had been used to before attending Hogwarts. In her first year, it had been lying in a hammock, holding hands with Severus, who was in an identical hammock beside her in the Room of Requirement that she had awoken. Then, in her second year, it had at least been with eagerness to visit Severus that she had woken up. But this year, it was like she was placed right back in the past, as dread and heavy-heartedness accompanied her return to consciousness, and even worse than it would have been if she was a small child again, waking up in her uncomfortable bed to the prospect of her parents' inevitable row and no presents.

There was a certain stillness in the air that would have made it evident that the rest of the castle was just as empty and lacking in life if Vesperra didn't already know this. From the moment her eyes opened to transition her from nothingness to the inside if her dark green four-poster curtains, she felt a strong desire to stay in her bed, but she knew that she couldn't, and forced herself to sit up and push the bed hangings aside.

Vesperra did not want to look around to the end of her bed; it was only after hesitating for a minute or so that she held her breath and looked up while she walked slowly to the end of the bed, so she would not have to see anything until she was ready. When she steeled herself and looked down, an irrational hope to see nothing and be forced to conclude that she'd remembered the date wrong and that it wasn't yet Christmas flitted to her—and though she couldn't possibly have expected that, her heart plummeted.

At the end of her four-poster were, for the first time, packages—wait, _packages_. _As in plural._

The dread that had strengthened upon seeing the large package that could have only held all the ingredients from Damien (and must have been carried by at least three owls) almost dissipated at once, for there was another, smaller package sitting atop it, like a layer on a cake.

Very curious, she bent down and picked up the smaller one, which was still relatively large, and sat down. Vesperra examined the wrappings, turning it around several times in her hand, but could find no note to tell her who it was from. Finding this even odder, she made a small rip in the brown paper at the seam, and then turned that into a larger rip, getting all of it off. After lifting the lid of the box that was underneath it, her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open a little.

It was a thick book, bound in a dark brown leather-like fabric and rather expensive-looking, with no torn corners or moth-eaten spots on the cover or binding. On the front, emblazoned in silver lettering, was _Verifying Veridian, Philosophy of Prince_. And in smaller, golden letters: _by Merlot Iyere_.

Unable to resist, Vesperra opened the book immediately, and skimming the table of contents as well as some of the actual chapters was enough to let her realize that it was a book illustrating the history of developments in potion-making, primarily focusing on famous Potioneers and debating whose methods would prove better results as well other, pettier things. The book was heaven in her hands, and, momentarily forgetting all about Damien, she wondered desperately who had sent it.

_Dumbledore?_ The thought came to her almost instantly. The old man had given her things twice before—both times for both her and Severus's benefit. _But why would he leave it anonymous? Could he have thought it was obvious…? _And if it hadn't been Dumbledore that sent it, then she was baffled. Severus wouldn't have given her something like this and not said it was from him, and no one else would give her anything.

But perhaps Damien? He might have decided to get her an actual present along with all the ingredients he was sending, and hadn't attached a note to it because it might have originally been attached to the other package at first, but broke off.

Other than that, Vesperra could think of no one that would send her a book she would only have been able to afford if she had her mother's large pouch of Galleons again. Then again, there was always the possibility that this had been sent by someone who hated her, and had cursed the book somehow…. But nothing had happened so far, though she'd already opened and skimmed it. If it were cursed, then why had nothing happened?

Still, she decided to close it, just in case it wasn't safe. This whole situation was just confusing, and Vesperra didn't like it, however much she liked the book. For now, she decided, she'd wait and see if it did anything funny, and if it did nothing after a few days or so, she'd deem it safe. As for who it was from, she resolved to leave her guess at a tie between Dumbledore and Damien.

Before setting it aside, Vesperra glanced once more at the handsome cover, and paused for a moment, realizing that it seemed familiar somehow. She couldn't remember ever picking up this book from a shelf in the Hogsmeade or Knockturn Alley bookshop, nor in the Hogwarts library, but the silver on the chestnut color stuck out vaguely in her mind as something she'd seen, but couldn't remember the specifics of. A few seconds, in which she failed to remember how it was familiar, later, Vesperra tore her gaze from it and set it next to her on the bed.

The shock of receiving an anonymous book had actually been good for her, for now the dread she felt was lessened, and she could pick up the other package without hesitating. Vesperra unwrapped it as well, though it felt more like every piece of paper she tore away brought her closer to her end, not a present. Well, it wasn't a present anyway.

Once she opened the box, she took to examining the contents, checking the jars and vials and small bags to make sure Damien had not forgotten anything. After concluding that he hadn't, she scowled, and set that aside as well. She didn't need to do anything about those just yet.

And now, all she had to do was brace herself, because this was where her plan started, and where she had to begin a series of lies in order to keep Severus from knowing about the poison. But there was still time before she had to carry out the actual deceit—and it was, after all, Christmas morning.

After getting dressed and making sure both her wand and journal were tucked into her robes, she left her dorm, and walked to Severus's office as casually as she could with all that was hanging over her.

* * *

"Morning," greeted Severus with a yawn when Vesperra showed up at his door, ushering her in. "Happy Christmas."

Vesperra, thinking that Severus yawning made him look sort of like a big cat—like a jaguar, smiled slightly, but made sure to make it obvious that it was a bit forced. "Happy Christmas."

Despite all his dread that Potter would not be safe today, Severus felt glad for the holiday to be here, and to actually be spending it with someone for the third year in a row. At the moment, the boy couldn't possibly be in danger, for it was early enough that both he and the werewolf would be in bed. Although, he did notice a sort of strained look in Vesperra's face, and felt a flicker of concern, but passed it off as something insignificant.

"Did you get any presents?" he asked with heavy sarcasm in his voice, making to sit down.

She was forced to think a moment; obviously she wasn't going to tell Severus about all of what Damien had sent her (since that wasn't even a real present), but she didn't know whether it was a good idea to tell him about the book she'd received anonymously. There was no doubt that he'd start worrying and would then want to see it and examine it—that would have actually been the smart thing to do, but what if, by some small chance, it _was_ from Damien? Knowing him, Severus would do his best to find out who'd sent it—and what if he succeeded? Vesperra couldn't let that happen.

"Yes, of course," she replied in the same, sarcastic tone. "My parents sent me loads of candy and hand-knitted sweaters, and all my Slytherin friends bought me hair accessories because you know I just _love_ that sort of thing—"

She stopped short due to being unable to keep herself from laughing a little, and Severus laughed as well. Of course, when they laughed, it was often more of a quick and repetitive exhaling out their noses. You couldn't expect more from them unless it was something exceptionally hilarious according to their twisted sense of humor.

"What did you get, then?" said Vesperra, though not as sarcastic, for she knew that it was more likely for him to be given something.

Severus frowned slightly. "The usual shampoo from the Weasleys—only this time, they sent conditioner as well. But nothing else…. Are you alright, Vesperra?" He'd noticed her holding the side of her head in one hand, and staring at the floor with a bit of a grimace.

"Yes, of course I'm alright," she said in a false-false-reassuring tone. "Why?"

"You seem sick." Severus's left hand went immediately to her forehead, feeling it with the back of his hand. But rather than being warm, like he had thought it might be, her skin was as cold as ever, especially down here in the dungeons. "Hm," he said upon silently concluding that she didn't have a fever. "Are you sure—?"

"Severus, I'm fine. I just… don't feel up to much but sitting here with you. It's nothing."

It was well-timed and calculated, as she had planned, and though it seemed to be working so far, Vesperra didn't feel better at all—she hated herself even worse. Severus looked back at her with concern that she didn't deserve, and she almost couldn't stand it.

"No Patronus practice today, then?" said Severus, hoping that she was telling the truth and merely felt a slight off-color, only not well enough to exert a lot of energy.

"I…" Vesperra didn't want to wait until the next day to practice, but doing so today would go completely against her plan. "No. There'll be tomorrow, anyway."

He looked down at her. _Merlin, she must be feeling awful if she's not even going to be stubborn about practicing…._ It didn't even cross Severus's mind that she might have something contagious; he was too busy hoping that she wasn't going through much pain. It was Christmas, for Merlin's sake.

"I'll make you some tea," he said as it came to mind. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. He was going to care for her whether she liked it or pretended not to. As he stood up, he heard a "Hmph" behind him, but didn't glance back. Severus made for the table on the other side of the room, where an empty kettle sat, then summoned tea bags and, after a tap of his wand on the kettle and a little less than a minute, he was able to let the tea pour itself into two conjured teacups.

As he sat down once more and gave Vesperra hers, which she accepted with a slightly annoyed look, they were both reminded of the first time that she'd spent the day in his office, and they had drunk tea with a bit of firewhiskey in it. Severus thought that they'd been through enough stress lately to need that again, but it probably wouldn't be a good idea to give Vesperra any while she was sick. And he didn't want to drink while she wasn't, so he didn't mention it.

The memory was doing other things to Vesperra; she and Severus had only just become friends a month or so before then. She remembered how it felt to have his hand grasp hers for the first time, to just relax with him, doing what real friends did for the first time in her life. It had possibly been then that she had started to feel more than respect and caring and admiration towards him—and look where she was now. Now infinitesimally more in love with him, but deceiving him all the same. And she felt awful.

Drinking their tea, they talked, and after their teacups were drained they kept theirselves busy throughout the morning, playing a few rounds of Wizard's Chess or simply sitting comfortably together in the silence until something came along for one of them to say. Vesperra consistently made brief expressions of discomfort, doing her best to make it seem as though they had happened while she was struggling not to let them escape her.

Her occasional grimaces and tiny, almost inaudible sounds of pain and squirms and uncomfortable shifting were noticed by Severus, as intended, and he tried to soothe her by gently rubbing her back or arm or the back of her hand, or brushing his knuckles on the side of her face. Several times during the morning, that were well-spaced out, he would take advantage of a gap of silence and say, "What hurts? If you tell me, I'll likely have a potion that can help—"

But he never got farther than that, because Vesperra would then deny having any specific symptoms, saying, "I'm _fine_, Severus. It's nothing that a potion can fix."

Other, fewer, times, he would drop his voice to a very soft one, and say, "Maybe you ought to go see Madam Pomfrey. I think you really should." And still, she refused, arguing that she'd rather just stay there with him.

For Vesperra, it was getting more and more difficult to feign ill, and yet, easier and easier. After not too long, she really was starting to feel sick, because doing this to Severus—making him think she was sick and forcing him to feel so sorry for her—had her disgusted at herself, however much it was necessary. The longer the morning wore on, the more real her grimaces became, as they were signs of real pain—both emotional and physical. Every time Severus tried to soothe her, it only made her feel worse, because she didn't want it, and didn't deserve it. This simply proved that Severus was too good for her, that he didn't deserve a friend that would do this to him, that was stupid enough to get herself involved in something like this, to have ever gone in Knockturn Alley two years ago in the first place…

Vesperra's head reeled and pounded like a tribal drum, each pound sending her deeper into self-loathing, and her stomach churned, racked back and forth by the pounding in her head. It was at this point that she truly _was_ struggling not to show how much pain she was in, and so Severus could only see that her eyes held less life than usual. He was beginning to decide that he would soon take her forcibly to Madam Pomfrey if she didn't agree out of her own free will, and tightened his hold on her instinctually, but she was almost at once wrenching herself out of his grasp.

Immediately, Severus let go, and Vesperra ran directly towards his bedroom door, saying in a voice he'd never heard her use before, "Oh, Merlin—" He knew at once what she was doing, and made the split-second decision to follow her, running through the door right after her.

Nearly slipping on the stone floor, she hurried as fast as she could to Severus's bathroom, having felt her own self-loathing get to her; apparently her body was just as disgusted with itself. Her nausea was unable to ignore, and it was in a haze of pain that she pulled his bathroom door open so hard that she nearly broke the knob, and then lost all remaining control, dropping to her knees and clutching the rim of the toilet seat.

As she retched, the contents of her stomach, all from the night before (since she and Severus had hardly eaten today), dispelling themselves into Severus's toilet, she felt a large hand gently pull her hair away from her face so that it was no longer hanging in front of her, and another one squeezing her hand. It was actually quite lucky that she didn't register that it was Severus while she was being sick, or else she might have felt even sicker with every extra bit of comfort from him.

The retching stopped, but Vesperra continued to shudder and convulse in dry heaves, tears streaking down her face from all the pain and the burning in her throat and nostrils. Behind her, Severus continued to hold her hair back, and was torn apart by seeing the state that she was in. When her convulsing diminished to a sort of slow tremble and he felt sure that she wasn't going to be sick again soon, he reached forward to flush the toilet and, with a flick of his wand, any of the remaining sick on the seat was cleaned off. Shaking slightly as well, he gently pulled Vesperra up to a standing position, sure that if he let go of her waist, she'd fall.

Though Severus didn't realize it, much of the reason for her tortured expression was the fact that _he_ was so sorry for her, that _he_ had held her hair back, and that _he_ was now holding her up, rubbing her arm softly, wishing so badly that she could feel better. Vesperra hated doing this to him; part of her screamed for her to just let go, to admit everything and hope that her guilt would be enough for him to forgive her—but the rest of her knew that was stupid. She was deceiving him, betraying him, and yet he was just utterly wonderful to her…. Of course, she hadn't been faking the vomiting, but she still didn't deserve this.

"Wash out your mouth and blow your nose," he advised gently, standing her up straight and leading her to the sink, though he figured she would already know that. Severus was struggling to force his voice to be as calm as was necessary and not broken, as he felt like talking after seeing that. Vesperra glanced back at him and obliged, and as she did, Severus said, "I'll be back in a moment," and left.

Minutes later he returned with a small vial that looked good for only a few gulps, and used two hands to give it to her; softly grabbing her right hand with his left, he pushed the vial into it with his other, and closed her fingers around it for her.

"That's for immediate relief," said Severus. "Drink it, you need it."

After having puked her guts out, she couldn't argue, and took it. She was silent for what felt like forever after, and then Severus said in barely more than a whisper, "You should have told me when I asked, I wanted to help you."

"I… didn't feel nauseous earlier," she said, starting to feel much better physically, though not emotionally. "It was just in the time before… that."

"Well, you're definitely not fit to go to the feast. It's barely half an hour until noon, and Lupin hasn't even come by yet today, so I wouldn't doubt that he'll be here very soon. You need to either go lie down in your dorm, or visit Madam Pomfrey. Either will help, but Pomfrey is quicker."

Vesperra looked up at Severus with a mixture of reluctance and defeat, and a hint of defiance, all of which were both partly real and partly going along with her original plan. This was rather convenient; she hadn't foreseen the possibility that she might actually throw up, and had originally planned to suggest on her own that she not go to the feast. Severus was unknowingly making it easier for her—not that she felt happy about it.

A second passed, and she nodded her head, though not sure whether or not she was grateful for this convenience, especially considering the price she had paid for it. Looking relieved that she hadn't argued, he placed his hand in between her shoulder blades and walked with her back to his office, where he gave her another flask.

"Madam Pomfrey might have given you that if you went to her, but I don't think you'd go to her even if I told you to, so take it from me," said Severus. "It'll help most other stomach problems." He paused as she drank it, already leading her to the door. "Now, please, just go relax. And possibly take a nap. For me. You should be fine after the Christmas feast—you can come back, and I'll bring back food for you…."

Amazed at him, Vesperra wanted to decline, or at least to say something along the lines of "I don't deserve you, Severus," but couldn't. Her brain overrode her heart for the time being, and she had things to do that she couldn't avoid no matter how much she wished she could.

"Alright," she said, "I'll relax." And, just before shutting the door, she added unceremoniously, "Happy Christmas."

Now separated by a door, they went different ways; Severus to his couch, and Vesperra to her dorm. While Vesperra was, though resentfully, about to do anything _but_ relax for the next hour, Severus was sitting with his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes closed, hoping that she would be alright. He was feeling worse for her than he did for himself, and felt that this day, according to his luck, could only get worse.

_Some Christmas _this_ has been so far._

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**So, who do you guys think sent her that book? ;D And what do you think about Vesperra now? I know this chapter has given us more insight about her, and I'm pretty sure that some people are going to have a lot of stuff to say about her.**

**Also, I know you Theo/Vesperra shippers are probably freaking out. And so far, I've refrained from commenting directly on anything said about Nott and Vesperra, but I know that all of you are thinking about it, so I can't act like it's not there. You'll have to wait and see what happens between them as well.**

**I hope the whole vomiting thing wasn't too gross for any of you... But you know, when I was writing that scene, I was automatically reminded of Simon in _Lord of the Flies_ after he finds the dead parachutist, for some reason. Btw, If you haven't read that book, you should. It's intense.**

**Anyway, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I've gotten less and less reviews lately, and it's making me sad! Where did you guys all go? :(**


	42. Book 3: Chapter 14

**Hey guys, I know that in the first two books, I only went to 14 chapters, but I can tell you that Book 3 is going to be _at least_ another three or four chapters. I'll try not to draw it out too long. Also, in case you haven't seen it, I posted another picture of Severus and Vesperra as jaguars on my DeviantART account, the link to which is in my profile. Anyway, please enjoy the chapter! ^_^**

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Now that she was away from Severus, Vesperra could continue her plan. She couldn't possibly feel happy about it, especially not after what she had just gone through to get to this point, but she wasn't upset or angry that her tactics had worked so far, either. _And if it hadn't worked, things would be much worse for me,_ she reminded herself.

It was more so the fact that Severus had been comforting her when she didn't deserve it than the actual lying to him that had made her feel so horrible, so Vesperra was no longer riddled with insufferable guilt. Oh, there was still guilt and self-loathing, but it was hardly as strong. The sick feeling had gone away as well, but that was mostly because of the potions he had given her.

And then she felt bad again, because she didn't deserve his help. If Severus had known that she had been only feigning ill at first, he'd be disgusted with her… _No. Stop thinking that way. If I keep feeling so bad, I'll go insane before I even get the chance to finish both potions. Just… forget it. Stop thinking about him, just… _stop caring_. Why can't I just force myself to stop caring?_

Really, why couldn't she? Vesperra wouldn't care if she killed Malfoy or even someone that she didn't mind so much—hell, she was going to brew a poison that would kill someone she'd never met, and wasn't feeling morally guilty about it at all. She could torture helpless animals and not feel a twinge of pity, she could lie and steal and cheat and do whatever to anyone, and it would feel as natural as breathing. Anyone except Severus.

How had a heartless person like her come to love him so much? Vesperra couldn't do a thing to him without feeling awful, and it was only by forcing herself that she was managing to do this. _See, this is why love is a burden. If only I could just stop caring so much, for just a few weeks…._ But she couldn't. She knew she could never stop caring about him, however much she tried. She'd just have to put up with it, and try not to let it bother her so much. Soon enough, it would get easier to lie to him. However, she didn't think it would ever get easier to have him comfort her when she was faking it.

Vesperra didn't want to stop loving him, either. Severus was the best part of her life, and if her love for him was just wrenched from her or even forced away by herself, that would leave her as nothing but a big ball of hate. As much as it might have seemed that way to other people, she didn't want to be that.

Ignoring all her thoughts of Severus and niggling doubts as to whether she would even be able to pull this off, Vesperra hurried back to the Slytherin Common Room, and was once again just passing through. The other Slytherin was in there, his face hidden by a book as he sat on one of the couches. He didn't even lower his book as she walked through.

Once back in her dorm, Vesperra got to her bed in two quick strides, and immediately got her schoolbag. Careful not to get everything unorganized as she did, she emptied it out onto her bed. Doing so book by book would have taken too long, so she took out the ink bottles and anything else that was breakable first, then all her loose parchment, and then dumped out all the books. With that, she took _Known Poisons and Their Antidotes _from her nightstand (she had left it there overnight) and stuffed it in there, as well as two jars that she selected from the package Damien had sent her, and her protective gloves.

So the jars wouldn't clink against each other and break, she hastily took some robes from her school trunk and stuffed them in the bag as well, wrapping them strategically around the jars to cushion them. After deciding that there wasn't much more that she could do, Vesperra slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out once more, trying to hurry to do so before the feast started at noon.

Luckily, the fifth year still paid her no attention as she passed through again; it wasn't as though she suddenly cared what anyone else thought of her, but everything would be better if no one was curious as to why she was carrying her school bag around on Christmas. It was necessary to carry them in _something_, though, since it would be even more curious for anyone to see her carrying around an old, huge book and a couple jars, not to mention difficult for her.

This was where things got tricky, and where Vesperra got admittedly nervous. If Severus were to decide to head to the Great Hall early and see her out in the dungeon corridors, he would get suspicious and there wouldn't be many convincing excuses she could give him. But she had planned for this possibility, and stayed on her guard while she hastened through the labyrinthine dungeon passageways.

After what felt like an eternity of anxiety, she made it to the top of the dungeon staircase, having not been seen by Severus, who was evidently planning on staying in his office until it was closer to the feast to leave. Vesperra looked around warily as she continued on through the empty Entrance Hall, and up the spiral staircase. Still, she neither saw nor heard anyone, but was paranoid that she'd happen upon someone else soon.

Then again, it was a castle with several miles of corridors and stairs, and there couldn't have been more than twenty people inside it. As long as she kept to the right corridors and walked as fast as she could, she wouldn't have to be seen. If she was, however, they would, as she had no doubt, ask her why she was carrying her bag with her, and heading upstairs instead of down to the Great Hall. And if it was a teacher that saw her, then they might tell Severus….

But once again, she'd foreseen that possibility, and had already resolved to simply keep an ear out for footsteps, and to take refuge in an empty classroom if she heard any. As she walked, she steered clear of McGonagall's and Lupin's offices as well as any of the other teachers', and at the same time tried to take the fastest way possible.

Occasionally Vesperra saw something silvery move from around a corner to have her heart stop, and then realize that it was just a Hogwarts ghost, oftentimes humming Christmas carols. The first time that happened, she started fearing that she'd meet Peeves along the way, but as he became more and more conspicuous by his absence, she guessed that he would be down in the kitchens at this time, stirring up trouble so he could ruin the Christmas feast.

The smell of turkey and bread pudding and whatever else the House Elves were cooking was growing stronger, and it struck Vesperra how odd it felt to not be going to the feast this year. There was the empty feeling of missing out on something that happened only once a year, and yet it really wasn't all that strange compared to how Christmases had been for her before Hogwarts.

While on the fifth floor, walking past a statue of Boris the Bewildered, Vesperra suddenly heard a disturbance in the silence that wasn't her own breathing or footsteps—it was clearly footsteps, but they sounded very close together, as though the person they belonged to was either running or just walking very quickly. They got nearer, and she didn't hesitate to launch herself at one of the doors nearby, opening the door and shutting herself inside at once, and attempting to stay silent while doing so. If she made a racket in hiding herself, that would only raise suspicion to whoever was walking down.

Pressing her ear to the door, she listened hard. The footsteps grew louder still, and after about fifteen seconds seemed to be right outside the door, along with muffled, high-pitched humming of some Christmas song she'd never learned the name of—and she knew at once that it must have been Professor Flitwick. Vesperra waited until she could hear absolutely nothing before leaving and making her way up the stairs.

Apparently, the feast would start very soon, which gave her roughly a few hours to do what she had to do. At this thought, she considered herself lucky that she hadn't been caught so far, and ascended one last flight of stairs to get to the seventh floor.

Her destination was the Room of Requirement, which had been the first place that she had thought of when originally thinking about how she would manage to get this work done. There were unused rooms in the dungeons that she could have used, but she would have run a higher risk of Severus or someone else catching her. And Severus had told her last year that he had explored the dungeons as a student, so he would know all the secret passageways and rooms.

The Room of Requirement, of course, would be the perfect place; no one else would be able to find it or get in, and it would provide whatever she needed that wasn't against the basic laws of magic. This would be where she would have to come to whenever there were things to add to the poison or antidote, and the distance from the dungeons was the only inconvenience.

Vesperra steeled herself and approached the blank stretch of wall that she had not visited for so long, blinking once before starting to pace past it. _I need room that I can brew in… I need a room to brew in, and for no one else to be able to get in…. I need a room to brew the poison in…._

And, as expected, a door materialized on the third walk past. It looked out of place, as it resembled the doors down in the dungeons. Anyone who walked by it would find it rather suspicious, but Vesperra figured that the door would disappear once she was inside, since she had asked for it to not let anyone else in. Besides, judging by the slight noise she could now hear six floors below her, the feast was starting, so no one else would even be up here. Knowing that every second mattered, she stepped forward at once and opened the door, then shut it behind her.

It was as though she had stepped back into the dungeons, because the Room of Requirement now looked very much like Severus's office, except the walls weren't lined with shelves of pickled ingredients, and there was no desk or cabinets. There was, however, a table in the center of the room, on which stood a cauldron about the same size as the one that Severus used for personal brewing, along with a pestle, a silver knife, scales, and other tools generally used in potion-making.

Holding her breath (it was holding itself, more like), she walked to the table and sat down, pulling out her book of poisons, jars and gloves. She flipped to the page she had dog-eared, and then, as a force of habit, ran one finger down the yellow page to the instructions.

Since the licorice roots needed to be fresh, and Vesperra had only been able to get them earlier that day, the antidote would have to be brewed first. This lessened the weight on her chest, as it made her feel better about the whole thing. For now, she was not brewing a poison to kill someone, but the antidote to such a poison; she wasn't yet breaking her promise to Severus, at least not in the literal sense.

As most potions did, it required a cauldronful of water first, and Vesperra felt a twinge of panic, but before she could even consciously think that she needed water, a stone basin like the one in Severus's classroom conveniently appeared on the opposite wall. Feeling suddenly relieved, she carried the cauldron over to it, and was careful not to spill it when walking back.

Though she had already read through the instructions several times, having had to do so when she had been planning this whole thing, Vesperra still glazed her eyes over them, as you could never be too careful with potions. First, she prodded the base of the cauldron with her wand, igniting a flame to boil the water within it.

And so, just as though it were any other day in Potions class, she worked. Vesperra took a third of an hour dicing licorice roots into same-size pieces until she had diced all of it, and then scooped them up with her knife to dump into the cauldron. They frothed the moment they hit the boiling water, and she had to stir it clockwise six times, at which the frothing stopped. At the moment, the liquid inside only looked like water with chunks of root in it, but after they stewed a while, it would have a solid color.

The other jar held bat spleens, suspended in a dark blue liquid that kept them preserved. Those, Vesperra sliced, and added the bits of at regular intervals, stirring as directed. Finally, after an hour and a half of work, having measured constantly to perfection and watched over the bubbling concoction with such paranoia that anyone would think she was brewing a poison for herself.

At that point, all she had to do was wait, since the roots and spleens needed to simmer for seventy-two hours. That moment marked her freedom from this burden, and to do whatever she pleased and not have to worry about it for three days—but of course she'd still worry about it. How could she not? Vesperra couldn't just not care. She could never just stop caring.

She cleaned up her table, once again out of habit, and then had a sudden idea: Vesperra had known there was the complication of getting the necessary ingredients up to the Room of Requirement every time, but, out of nowhere, the idea hit her softly and surreptitiously, causing her to pause just as she was in the middle of washing her hands. If her assumptions that the Room could do virtually anything were correct, then there _was_ a way to get all the ingredients in there without the chance of anyone seeing….

_I need an entrance to my dorm from here._ And, a mere moment after Vesperra thought that, a door appeared right next to the sink as though it had been there all along and she simply hadn't been looking properly; it didn't shimmer into being or even arrive with a pop. It was a quality of the Room of Requirement that she continued to find rather surreal, even for the Wizarding World.

Turning a stone serpent's head and stopping the flow of the water, Vesperra wiped her hands on her robes and stepped forward to the door. She turned the handle, and it opened to reveal her dorm, to her slight awe. From where she was standing, it seemed like she had just entered from the door she normally walked through to get to her room…. Walking further into the dorm, she turned around, and saw that she was, indeed, looking at the door from which she generally entered. But the Room of Requirement was still on the other side.

_So the Room can alter other parts of the castle too…._ Vesperra couldn't help but be amazed at this fact, as it created a sort of paradox—but then again, it applied essentially the same sort of magic that some of the rest of Hogwarts castle did, like the doors that sometimes led to different places than others. The only major difference was that Vesperra hadn't thought this could be done with the doors in the dormitories.

Sure that if she closed the door, it would no longer lead to the Room of Requirement when she opened it again, Vesperra fought against her habit and left it open while she went to her bed and got her box of arranged ingredients, which she then carried back into the room and set down on another table that appeared for her. _Okay, so now one part about that is going to be a bit easier._

The brief moment of amazement she had felt at the extraordinary power of the Room was gone almost instantly, and it was with a scowl that she went to get her empty schoolbag, leaving the book of poisons where it was. As she returned to her dorm and closed the door this time, Vesperra truly realized how old she felt. She hardly felt like a thirteen year-old girl, but instead like she was middle-aged, even older than Severus, and had lived through years of pain and mistakes. This whole thing was one huge mistake that she was consciously making with no effort to stop herself, because she had to do it.

But this shouldn't have hit her so harshly, come to think of it. She had lost her innocence quite a while ago.

* * *

"Severus, do you mind if I step in?"

Lupin's voice rang out from his fireplace, the flames in which had just turned emerald green. It had been no more than ten minutes since Severus had sent Vesperra back to her dorm, and he had been sitting on his couch ever since, one hand supporting his head, and thinking about her.

Hearing that voice jerked him back into reality, and though he was now a bit miffed, he wasn't angry that Lupin had come now. He had been expecting it, and if Lupin hadn't come, he'd have been worried.

"No, just come in," said Severus loudly, getting up.

Their exchange occurred just as it normally would, but Severus noticed that Lupin was looking rather sick—even sicker than usual. He couldn't help but think of how Vesperra had mentioned two rather strange likenesses between her and Lupin a while ago, and now they were both ill—_No, her sickness couldn't possibly have anything to do with his. He's a werewolf, and—don't even think about that._

The wild, irrational thought had come and gone, and Severus was annoyed with himself for getting concerned about that at all when it wasn't even possible. But he was still curious as to why Lupin looked so sick when he had been taking the Wolfsbane Potion as often as he should have been. Could it have been because the man was letting his animalistic side take over? It was true, all werewolves were beasts, and you couldn't trust them, they couldn't be like normal people….

Without saying a word, Severus handed the goblet to Lupin, who only managed a small smile in his state. And then, with a somewhat hoarse, "Well, I certainly hope I'm feeling better after the full moon. Happy Christmas, Severus." He made for the grate and reached for the Floo powder, glancing back at him.

But he didn't seem to keep his hopes up that Severus was going to return the sentiments or even do more than narrow his eyes, because he left without further ado.

Severus's suspicion of the werewolf remained as solid as ever as he sat down once more, and he was now more concerned for Potter's safety than he had been yet today. This worry for the life of a boy he hated so much mingled with his worry for Vesperra, forming a large mass of bitterness inside him, a bitterness that he'd been used to having around Christmastime.

There was also curiosity as to how Vesperra had gotten sick in the first place—had she caught it from someone? Had it been in something she ate? The last time she had been sick enough to vomit, it had been because of Malfoy poisoning her, and even then, she had felt well enough afterward to sit through the rest of Quirrell's class. It must have been much worse this time, for it to have her shaking and crying like that….

And then, as his eyes darted to the clock and told him that it was nearly noon, he attempted to push aside the pity he felt for her and stood up. Severus didn't even want to attend the feast himself anymore—he'd much rather go down into the Slytherin dormitories and check on Vesperra, sit with her, comfort her… but it would be suspicious to everyone but Dumbledore if he didn't show up. Besides, he needed to keep an eye on Potter, who he hoped was still alive this morning.

When he arrived in the Entrance Hall, he saw Dumbledore heading in the same direction. The Headmaster smiled at him as they entered the Great Hall, and then held out a hand to stop them before going beyond the threshold.

"Just a minute," said Dumbledore, "I think we could do with a change in seating, just for today." He waved his wand extravagantly and the four House tables flew to the walls, reminding Severus forcibly of the night Sirius Black had broken in. With another wave, a single table appeared in the middle of the hall, large enough to seat as many as twenty people if the chairs had been close enough together—but there was only thirteen.

"I've already told the House Elves that there'll only be enough for thirteen people," Dumbledore explained, making to sit down in the center chair on one side of the table. "Come sit down, we shouldn't have to wait long for the other teachers and the students to arrive." Severus sat next to him on his right, as the old man had indicated.

"Actually, Headmaster," said Severus, "there will only be twelve. Vesperra isn't coming. She's sick." He had a stony look as he said it, his eyes growing so cold that they were iced over.

Dumbledore frowned sadly, but his clear blue eyes twinkles nevertheless, blending in with the sparkling ornaments on the Christmas tree behind him. "Oh. I'm sorry, Severus. Poor girl, sick on Christmas… and there's nothing you or Madam Pomfrey could do to help?"

"I did what I could," said Severus, now rather irritably. "And you know her, she won't go to Madam Pomfrey out of her own free will." Not saying any more, he sat stiffly with his hands folded on the table in front of him, feeling bitter that Vesperra had to be ill and not here with him. Even if he wouldn't have been able to talk to her, he could have at least known that she was fine, and she wouldn't have had to miss the feast.

Within the next ten minutes, Dumbledore had Vanished one of the chairs from the table, as it was not needed, and the other Heads of Houses along with Filch had entered, dressed a bit more formal than usual for the occasion, unlike Severus, who was still wearing his normal Potions Master robes. Upon arrival they had all greeted each other cheerfully and bidden them Happy Christmases, which Severus had only returned out of begrudging politeness. But in all honesty, it really wasn't a happy Christmas for him so far.

The students that had stayed for the holidays arrived as well, first a fifth year Slytherin and then two first years who looked very nervous and uncomfortable to be at the same table as the teachers. Across Severus sat the sullen-faced fifth year, and he scowled inwardly, thinking how that should have been Vesperra's seat.

At last, the doors of the Great Hall opened to reveal Potter, Weasley, and Granger, walking together towards the table in the center of the room. Their presence gauged different reactions; several people, especially the other students, looked relieved that they would finally be able to eat, Severus frowned, thinking, _Of course they're the last ones here… They can't help but be late, even on Christmas,_ and Dumbledore beamed.

"Merry Christmas!" said the Headmaster, smiling widely through his silver beard at the trio approaching the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables…. Sit down, sit down!"

They sat down side by side at the end of the table, and Severus felt repulsed by the so flamboyantly displayed Christmas spirit by Dumbledore, though admittedly relieved that Potter was here, and not dead.

He was ripped out of his own bitterness by an enthusiastic Dumbledore saying, "Crackers!" and offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to him. For a moment, Severus merely glared at the old man with narrowed eyes and his lip curling, a snarky retort ready on the tip of his tongue. _What's he trying to do, cheer me up? Does he honestly think I might have a remotely happy Christmas, or that this will do anything but annoy me?_

But then again, if Dumbledore had suddenly stopped doing things that annoyed him, Severus would have wondered who the man to his left was and what he had done with the real Dumbledore. Very reluctantly, he took the end of the noisemaker and tugged, scowling all the while. It flew apart at once with a loud bang, silver paper flying everywhere to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

At once he remembered the description of Longbottom's Boggart back from the second week of the year, and how the boy had put his worst fear, Severus, in his grandmother's dress. Feeling suddenly angry and the ghost of humiliation, he resisted letting the rage show on his face, and instead his mouth merely thinned as he pushed the hat towards Dumbledore. His eyes glazed over with yet another layer of ice, he saw the old codger swapping his wizard's hat for the vulture hat out of his peripheral vision.

"Dig in!" Dumbledore told everyone, grinning around at the table.

For a while, it was mostly quiet in the Great Hall but for the clinking of plates and glasses and cutlery, as well as chewing and slight conversation. Potter, Granger, and Weasley spoke only amongst themselves, and were speaking quietly and far enough down the table that Severus couldn't hear them—not that he'd care about anything they were talking about, anyway. The other three students didn't talk at all, either because they were introverts like him and Vesperra or because they were just nervous.

On either side of him, the other teachers were conversing amongst themselves, and luckily leaving Severus well alone to eat in silence. It was only common sense that Severus Snape would be even colder than usual on Christmas, and not only in the literal sense.

But hardly twenty minutes later, a loud creak announced that the doors to the Great Hall were opening again; for one wild second, Severus thought it might be Vesperra, having decided that she felt quite well enough to eat now, but he knew better, and threw the idea away altogether when oversized glasses and extremely frizzy hair came into view and caused him to groan inwardly.

_Merlin,_ he thought as he chewed on a chunk of carrot, staring resolutely as his golden platter, _why _her_? Why did _she _have to come?_

Dressed in a green sequined gown, Trelawney was gliding toward the table, though in a much different way than Severus would glide. Everyone but him turned to see her, and Dumbledore stood up.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" he said, grinning.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Trelawney in an extremely misty voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…."

_Cut the theatrics, Trelawney,_ snapped Severus in his mind. _You just wanted some better food._

"Certainly, certainly," replied Dumbledore. "Let me draw you up a chair—" He then literally drew a chair with his wand in midair, which solidified and revolved for a few seconds before falling in between McGonagall and Severus, who briefly glared daggers at the Headmaster.

_No, dammit, _why_ can't she sit on the other bloody side of you?_ But he didn't need to protest silently anymore, for Trelawney was not sitting now, but instead let out a soft scream after scanning the table with her enormous dragonfly eyes.

"I dare not, Headmaster!" she said, now sounding genuinely frightened despite her ethereal tones. "If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

_That's great then, so you can leave, and—_

"We'll risk it, Sybill," said McGonagall impatiently, interrupting what Severus would have liked to have said. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Resisting the urge to shoot McGonagall a death glare, Severus continued eating with only a couple glances up to see what Trelawney was doing. Hesitating, the woman finally lowered herself into the empty chair, looking as though she feared the table would explode the moment she sat down.

The table did not indeed explode, and McGonagall poked a large spoon into a tureen. "Tripe, Sybill?  
At that, Severus gained a bit more respect for the woman, as he couldn't help but appreciate a clever, snappish comment like that. Trelawney did seem a bit offended, but ignored McGonagall, and instead looked around the table, and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore before Severus could so much as tighten his fist around his fork, and at the same time reaching for a platter of ham, indicating that everyone should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it had to happen on Christmas Day."

_Most unfortunate?_ thought Severus, incensed and sneering slightly at his plate rather than at Dumbledore, though that was where his anger was designated to. _Most _unfortunate_ that it had to happen today? It's not the full moon, and it's been happening the past few days…._

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" said McGonagall, at which Severus felt slightly less bitter.

Trelawney then gave McGonagall a cold look worthy of Vesperra, and said quietly, "Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing." Severus almost snorted into his cranberry sauce, now wishing that Vesperra could be here just to see this. "I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as to not make others nervous."

_Right, because nothing else about you is enough to make others nervous._

"That explains a great deal," said McGonagall tartly, at the same time as Severus's thought. When Trelawney spoke again, her voice was suddenly much less misty.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him—"

"Imagine that."

Before Trelawney could do more than look flushed with frustration, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and said cheerfully, "I doubt that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Severus, without looking up from his plate. He was grateful for the man having ended the conversation between Trelawney and McGonagall, and at the same time slightly disappointed. And he felt a sting of offense at Dumbledore's words—did the man think he had backed down on his promise? _I thought he trusted me…._

"Good. Then he should be up and about in no time," said Dumbledore, while the hooked-nosed man next to him was hoping for exactly the opposite. Dumbledore then turned to the first year boy, and, as though nothing had happened, said, "Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The boy turned as red as Weasley's hair, and at that, Severus slipped once more into his mind, where only worry for Vesperra and dread about Lupin and Sirius Black existed. For the rest of the meal, he remained in that state, though still aware of the people around him. It was easier, now that Trelawney was acting mostly normal and not bothering him so much. Occasionally he responded to something Dumbledore asked him, but other than that was as silent as usual.

Two hours later, everyone seemed full to bursting with dinner and pudding. Potter and Weasley were the first to get up from the table, and no less than a second later, Trelawney's head whipped up from her plate and she shrieked loudly, causing even Severus to look at her in alarm.

"My dears!" she said, once again sounding very frightened. "Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," said Weasley, who then turned uneasily to Potter.

"I doubt it will make much of a difference," said McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

Several people laughed, and Severus fought the urge to smirk. But then he thought of the possibility of Sirius Black waiting in there, and sincerely hoped that McGonagall wasn't unintentionally correct.

At that, Severus remained no longer to watch the exchanges between Potter and his friends, and got up without bidding Dumbledore or anyone else a good afternoon. While Potter walked towards the Entrance Hall, he walked in the other direction—towards the staffroom, as was habit for him to leave the Great Hall through.

He didn't feel entirely sure that nothing bad was going to happen, but thoughts of Vesperra drove much of that dread from his mind. The first thing he did was make a visit to the kitchens to get some food for her from the House Elves, and once down in the dungeons, he nearly started walking in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room rather than to his office, having seriously contemplated going down to Vesperra's dorm and bringing her back personally; but he realized that the other Slytherin boy would be likely to return in time to see them.

Instead, he set down the pile of wrapped-up turkey and bread pudding as soon as he reached his office, and removed his journal from within his robes.

* * *

The sudden thumping against her ribs had been, as much as Vesperra had been waiting for it, a harsh jerk back into full awareness. For the past hour or so, she hadn't had a thing to do, since she didn't feel like flipping through her textbooks and hadn't lost her wariness of the book that had been sent to her anonymously. She hadn't even stayed in her dorm—the Common Room had just felt like a better place to be for a while. Relieved that she no longer had to deal with nothing but her thoughts, she had hardly even read Severus's message before hurrying out of the Common Room.

A couple minutes later, Vesperra was once again entering Severus's office, and this time feeling much better about it, as her lies for the day were over. She no longer had to feign ill, to play with his sympathy like that. And she no longer had to feel sick for doing that.

"So you're feeling better?" asked Severus as he let her in, just as relieved as she was.

"Completely better," said Vesperra truthfully. She saw the food he had brought for her, and as undeserving of it as she felt, she was also starving.

"I'm glad to hear it. And I'm sorry I didn't get back earlier—the feast lasted a while. But I'll spend the rest of Christmas with you."

Ignoring the flush of warmth in her chest, Vesperra smiled slightly in the way that only reached her eyes, and walked over to Severus's desk, taking a turkey leg. "Thanks," she said, biting a chunk off of it. "Do you mind if I eat while sitting on your couch? I don't want to get grease or anything on it."

"It's fine, I'll just clean it off later…."

For hours, they talked and Vesperra ate, Severus telling her about the feast at some point, and Vesperra with nothing of her day to tell him. Christmas evening was feeling too much like any regular evening, however, and Severus took out a bottle of wine—just a single glass for the each of them.

Glad to have the full mental relief of wine, for the stress of the poison hadn't left the back of her mind, Vesperra took her glass somewhat eagerly. Several minutes later, she sat, leaning against Severus, absentmindedly turning her glass and watching the last of her wine swirl around in the bottom as she was deep in thought.

Perhaps it was just the alcohol getting to her (though it really hadn't been that much wine), but she was feeling an immensely strong urge to tell Severus that she loved him. It sounded crazy and stupid to do that, but part of her thought that it would make sure he knew how she felt about him, and so, if he ever discovered what she was doing, he'd understand why she had kept it from him, why she acted the way she did, why she had to be alone in this. Truly alone in this.

How difficult could it be? It would take absolutely nothing to just look up at him, say "Severus, I love you," and wait for his reaction. But the rest of her screamed _no_, she could not do that. He could not know.

And yet, he had to understand. Vesperra's waist twisted against his side as she shifted slightly, and said quietly, "Severus?"

"Hm?" He looked down at her, a bit sleepily, as it was getting late. It was a second or so before she looked back up at him.

"I'm really glad we're friends," said Vesperra simply, but with all the meaning in the world put into it. Her hair hanging messily in her face, she looked at him with such intensity that his lips twitched into a smile. Severus normally would have found it strange for her to say something like this, but he supposed it was the tiredness getting to her.

"So am I," he said after what felt like a long time. "But we're only friends because a stronger word hasn't been invented yet." Leaning back, he rested his head on the top of the couch cushion and stretched his stiff neck. Vesperra squirmed slightly against him, and he let his head back up.

"Well, there's 'l_overs_,'" she couldn't help but mutter against him, "but that doesn't really fit." Both of them smirked at her comment, and Vesperra drained the last of her wine. Severus took the empty glass from her and Vanished it, having already done the same with his own.

"I should hope not."

But then, he leaned down and placed a very quick kiss on the bridge of Vesperra's nose, and held her tighter to him when he straightened up. The spot where his lips had touched burned on her skin, but not in an entirely good way—in an almost icy way, like how your hand would feel as though it's burning if you keep it in ice-water for too long. It was because of her residual guilt; it couldn't bear contact with Severus's care, or selflessness—or whatever it was that he felt for her, because she didn't know for sure.

Still, Vesperra liked it, and it was nice enough to overwhelm the burning. And very soon, they both found theirselves too tired to keep their eyes open for longer than a few seconds. Rather than telling her to get back to her dorm, however, Severus let her sink further and further into his chest, quickly falling asleep on him.

And soon enough, he was on the brink of losing consciousness as well, and only fought it long enough to mutter, "Happy Christmas, love."

* * *

As Severus and Vesperra had once again postponed her Patronus-casting practice, they spent most of Sunday practicing. However, Vesperra's new stress and slight pang of guilt she now had whenever she looked at Severus had set her back, and she was having trouble at first.

But, around midday, the strength and density of the silvery fog started to increase, and with each try she grew out of her guilt and only had determination to get this right. Severus was still impressed with the progress she was making, and watched from his usual spot next to the wall.

"Alright, I think you ought to take a break," said Severus softly, quickly striding over to Vesperra and holding her steady before she could lose her balance. It had been after five consecutive tries, and she looked exhausted—close to sweating, even.

"No," she moaned through her teeth, straightening herself up. "I think I nearly had it. I can't stop now." Stepping away from him, she asserted her desire to continue, and Severus didn't insist. He glanced down at her; her chest was heaving, and her wand arm was trembling slightly. She didn't look back up at him.

After a small noise of reluctance in the back of his throat, Severus said, "Fine. One more time," and in a voice that meant he believed in her, but it was firm all the same. He briefly held her cheek, and let his fingers slide off of her face as he took his place next to the wall once more.

Feeling suddenly less annoyed with him, Vesperra unconsciously touched her cheek, and then looked at Severus through a side-glance as her heart skipped a beat. A second later, she was in her intense-spell-casting stance, and raised her wand.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" And a sense of magic—or happiness, whatever it was, that she'd never felt before rushed through her body and out of her wand, erupting in a massive, blinding-white shape. The mass of silvery light shot around the room and Vesperra felt such a rush of excitement that her focus wavered, letting the Patronus flicker and disappear in a wisp of silvery gas.

Both of them stared at the spot where it had vanished in awe, Vesperra with her eyes wide and a smirk of triumph having forced its way to her lips.

"You did it," whispered Severus, unable to think of anything else to say. He felt so proud of her that he was just as breathless. "A corporeal Patronus."

"Did—did you see what it was?" she asked, finally looking towards him and having blinked the white spots out of her retinas. Once again, it had been too bright and too close for her to tell. But she had done it—and once she got better at controlling it, she should be able to easily see what animal it was….

"I couldn't tell for sure," said Severus, "but I saw four legs."

"You're sure?"

"Definitely four legs. And possibly a tail."

Vesperra's smirk remained on her face as she sat down, still breathing heavily. She had done it… she had finally done it. This would probably be the last time for while that she would be proud of something she had done.

* * *

The rest of the Christmas holidays passed by unfortunately quickly, though Vesperra was partly glad for it. She didn't want the time that she had to avoid Severus and lie to him about what she was doing while she was brewing to drag out, and wasn't sure that she could have handled it if it had.

When the antidote required ingredients to be added or to be stirred, Vesperra had managed to get away from Severus without raising suspicion, though once or twice it was narrowly. Sooner or later, she feared, he would know that something was up.

But Severus had things to do as well, and wasn't always missing her company. Two days after Christmas, McGonagall told the staffroom that Potter had received a Firebolt—at which Severus had immediately grown irrationally angry before hearing the rest of it—and her suspicions that, because it had been sent anonymously, it had been sent by Sirius Black.

All the facts added up, and there was not a doubt in Severus's mind that McGonagall was right. So Lupin must have thought it was too risky to let Black into the castle again, and instead he had Black send him a cursed broom….

He had offered to look over it for curses, since he had possibly more experience than any of the other staff members in this sort of thing, but McGonagall had insisted that he leave it to Flitwick and Madam Hooch, who she had already delegated the duty to. It was with resentment that he did not argue further—but he couldn't appear as though he was too concerned for Potter's life. _Flitwick and Hooch should handle it fine, anyway,_ he thought grudgingly. _And at least McGonagall managed to confiscate it from him._ But aside from anything, this still meant that Potter's life was at stake, and that Black had tried yet again to kill him.

Now constantly bitter and angry (as opposed to how he normally was), Severus became stiffer even around Vesperra. He told her everything but the fact that he cared whether Potter lived or died, but it was enough information that she understood why he was stressed, and for her to habitually take on some of the stress herself. But he had no idea what really was going on in her mind amongst thoughts of the Sirius Black business, and would have been shocked if he had.

Hearing about Potter getting an anonymous Firebolt got Vesperra wondering, paranoid, whether it could have anything to do with the book that was sent to her. If Severus and McGonagall were wrong, could the same person have sent both things? Now that she thought about it, she couldn't put it past Malfoy to send Potter a cursed broom and her, a cursed book. However, it seemed much more likely that Sirius Black would have sent the Firebolt, so how could that connect to her? Why would Black send her anything, even if it had been with ill intentions, if he didn't know her? _Then perhaps it's just a coincidence,_ she thought, though she doubted that it was.

Meanwhile, everything about Black only added to her stress over brewing the poison, even though she hadn't started on it yet. Vesperra had also decided that the book she received anonymously must have been free of curses, and she really should have been aware of that on Christmas morning when she had read much of it and nothing had happened to her. So, much of her time without Severus was spent looking through it. She soon realized that '_Philosophy of Prince_' was referring to Severus's great-grandfather, and figured that he might like this book.

When the Hogwarts Express brought the rest of the school back from their holidays on the day before the start of term, Severus and Vesperra accepted that things would return to normal, and that they would go back to the schedule of talking in the evenings through the journals and spending Saturdays—or Sundays when it was more convenient—with each other. Vesperra would never have mentioned it to him, but she was a bit glad that she wouldn't be spending so much time with him. Facing the guilt would be easier, and less lies would have to be told—to him, at least. The only real disappointment was the fact that she wouldn't be able to use the Slytherin Common Room anymore.

* * *

"What a waste of a lesson, picking up sticks…."

It was a raw January morning, and the first day of term. The third year Gryffindors and Slytherins had Care of Magical Creatures first thing, and Hagrid had finally brought something other than flobberworms—those had apparently died. Seemingly to make up for spending two hours outside in the bitter cold, he had gotten salamanders for them, and after hearing a bit about the salamanders from Hagrid, their lesson was merely to gather dry wood and leaves for the fire.

Vesperra didn't mind it so much, and admittedly found the salamanders scampering up and down the flaming logs slightly entertaining. All the Gryffindors seemed to be enjoying the lesson as well, and even a good number of the other Slytherins were having trouble hiding the fact that they weren't bored to death. Malfoy had been whinging and complaining as he always did, and had made sure to walk near Vesperra several times. She wondered if he meant for her to get annoyed enough with him that she unintentionally pulled her wand out, so he could get her in trouble. Well, it wasn't going to work.

A bit after halfway through, when Vesperra was brushing the snow off a long branch and was just about to toss it into the hungry flames, she felt something very hot near her ear; she realized a second later that it was much too hot, and a glance down and to her right told her that her hair was on fire.

Immediately, she clapped a gloved hand to the right side of her hair, grabbing a fistful of it and cutting off the oxygen to it, thus killing the fire. Whipping her head around, she saw Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy laughing, and Malfoy tossed the branch he was holding, that had apparently been what he had used, into the bonfire.

"Oops," said Malfoy as he managed to stop laughing. "How clumsy of me." Pansy shrieked with laughter, and Vesperra's face contorted into one of rage as she let go of her singed hair, not caring how ridiculous it must have looked now.

"You bloody set my hair on fire, you fu—!"

"Woah, _language,_ Grease-perra," said Malfoy. "And you know, I'm surprised it burnt—I figured the grease would have acted like the salamanders' skin, and make it inflammable. Oh well, I suppose I was wrong…."

With that, he and his friends walked away, sniggering, to get more wood, and left Vesperra fuming, nearly shaking as the result of resisting the urge to pull out her wand and curse Malfoy with everything she knew. Looking behind her, she saw that Hagrid was across the field and had his back turned to her, having not seen any of what had just happened. Now, she _could_ have gone and told him, but that would have been stupid and cowardly, and made it impossible to get revenge.

Her heart pounding with the satisfaction, she slipped out her wand and jerked it in Malfoy's direction, muttering a curse under her breath before hastily sliding it back in her sleeve. Several feet away, there was a yell and shriek as the sleeve of Malfoy's robes ignited. Vesperra wanted to head over there and sneer, "Don't you _know_ you're never supposed to turn your back on an enemy?", but once again, that would have been stupid, especially since you also weren't supposed to give advice to an enemy.

But she didn't even stay to watch; Vesperra strode back to the castle at once, not caring if Hagrid or anyone else saw her or stopped her. The right side of her hair had been burnt down very short, and as she didn't know any spells to remedy it, her only choices were to go to Madam Pomfrey, go to Severus, or cut the rest of it down to that length and walk around like this until it grew back. She really didn't care about her appearance, but she was going to stop herself from being humiliated if she could help it. Besides, she liked having long hair. It was something to hide behind.

So, when she got back inside, she went down to the dungeons and waited outside Severus's classroom. Over half an hour later, the doors opened and fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins shuffled past her, looking confused at her presence. She noticed the Weasley twins among them, whose identical, freckled faces were grinning, but she paid none of them any attention. After it seemed that all the students had left the classroom, Vesperra strode in to see Severus at his desk, sorting out flasks.

* * *

"Vesperra, what are you—what happened?"

Severus was quite surprised and confused to see Vesperra in his classroom at this time, but even more so to see her hair looking as though only one side had been cut to a length shorter than Pansy Parkinson's.

As he was the only one she trusted to help her in this situation, she supposed she'd have to tell him, though she did so through gritted teeth and a scowl while looking away from him.

"Malfoy set my hair on fire," she muttered.

"He _what_?" Severus felt a burst of rage and stood up quickly. "I—did Hagrid do anything?"

"Hagrid didn't see," said Vesperra. "And I know you can't punish him, or even treat him badly as an indirect punishment like you do with Potter and Longbottom sometimes, so you don't have to apologize. Can you just—fix it? Please?"

Not any less angry at Malfoy, Severus stepped forward and dropped to his knees, then pointed his wand at her hair. It grew out from where it was too short upon his nonverbal command, and when it was long enough, he stuffed his wand back in his robes and ran his fingers through her hair a couple times to straighten it.

"I take it you got some sort of revenge on him, then?" he asked casually. "Or you're at least planning it?" As much as he didn't want her to use Dark magic, he really couldn't blame her for doing anything to Malfoy after this.

Vesperra ran her fingers through it as well, adjusting it so that it would hide her face properly, and then squeezed Severus's arm in thanks. "Yeah. I set him on fire. I'm pretty sure he didn't get hurt any worse than I did, though." At that, she scowled. "And after that I just ditched Care of Magical Creatures."

Severus raised his eyebrows, though not necessarily in disapproval. "You ditched a class?"

"I wasn't going to stay there, when I knew Malfoy might have done worse to me, and while I was just set up for taunts—and it's not as though I haven't done it before, Severus. I bet you have, too."

Remembering all the times he had ditched lessons—both with Lily and with his Death-Eater-wannabe friends, Severus let his eyebrows drop, defeated. "Alright, then. So being a genius doesn't automatically make you a model student, even if no one realizes that you're breaking rules. But you should be getting to your next lesson, especially since the rest of the Slytherins will be wondering where you are…."

"Oh—you're right." Vesperra let go of his arm and adjusted the strap of her schoolbag over her shoulder, stepping towards the door. "Thanks. Talk to you tonight." In her haste not to be late, she hurried out of the dungeon classroom without waiting for him to reply.

As Severus sat down, he resumed sorting out the potions that his fifth years had done, now fueling each movement with his new, added hatred for Malfoy.

* * *

The days of the first week of term trickled by, with classes as normal, teachers assigning a bit more homework than before, and Malfoy being a complete tosspot, as was expected. For Vesperra, they were punctuated by clandestine trips to the Room of Requirement, sometimes during lunch or break and other times after dinner, or even just between classes, requiring her to nearly be late. The schedule for brewing the antidote was sort of screwy, and had limited her options for going about it, but she had managed a suitable way of working out the time-slots.

Whenever she returned to the Common Room or to the Slytherin table, the others would ask what she had been doing, but she obviously didn't reply or even acknowledge that they'd asked anything. But it worried her slightly, because if one of them started following her… Well, there were always Memory Charms.

And during the week, Vesperra had started thinking about Severus's birthday. She hadn't been able to get him anything from Hogsmeade—but there was one other thing, and she already had it. _This is pretty damn convenient,_ she thought, smirking to herself.

Saturday brought more practicing with her Patronus, though it was less rigorous than it had been before. Now that she could conjure a corporeal Patronus, the only problem was controlling it, and keeping it up. Since it was much more powerful and energy-consuming than the silvery fog, it was difficult to keep it up too long, and even then, it was impossible to tell what it was. But Vesperra was now so sure that her prediction had been correct that it didn't really matter.

The next day, Sunday, was Severus's birthday. However, being a teacher meant you had duties, and he couldn't spend very much of the day with her even if she had had time to. They both had duties, in a sense.

On Sunday afternoon, Vesperra was sitting on a stool in the Room of Requirement, looking down into the lightly bubbling cauldron. Her hair hung limply next to her face, and was inches away from touching the potion. There was only one thing left to do—well, two things.

Next to the silver knife on the table stood a very small, very thin vial. Carefully, Vesperra lifted it with her index finger and thumb and uncorked it, then pulled out a long, pale yellow hair from the tail of an Abraxan. It had likely been the rarest and most expensive ingredient on the list; she vaguely wondered how Damien had managed to procure it.

It seemed like a waste to use it in this potion, though. Vesperra knew it would be useful to have this for the future, but only hesitated a few seconds before dropping it into the nearly finished antidote. After three counter-clockwise stirs, it shimmered pale gold at once.

_Finished,_ thought Vesperra with a gleam in her eye. _Finally finished. _Though she knew that this antidote was only as a safety precaution, and that the actual poison would have to be started very soon, she felt proud of having done this perfectly, just like she did with every other potion. The only difference now was that only she would know, and that she wasn't turning it in.

Soon after, she thought to the Room that she needed a vial, and it supplied one—well, it supplied more than that. Apparently having sensed her need for one in the future as well, it gave her a small wooden box, which appeared on the edge of the table. Upon opening it, she saw that there were two vials inside it, held in the holes on the felt bottom like tiny cupholders. She smirked at the pure potioneer-ishness of it, and filled a vial. But that still left the rest of the cauldron.

Was there anything she could do with it? If she kept it, what were the chances that she'd ever need it? A few more vials wouldn't hurt, but…

And as she thought it, a few flasks appeared, this time without a box. Deciding that she wasn't going to feel right if she didn't keep just a bit more of the antidote she'd worked so hard on, she filled those, leaving barely any left.

_Halfway done,_ thought Vesperra somewhat triumphantly as she left through the door that led to her dorm, which hadn't left the Room of Requirement since the first time she had needed it. She immediately put the box and other flasks away in her school trunk, and pulled out something else. With that, she aggressively pushed away any of the residual guilt of the entire poison business, and closed the door to her dorm. When she opened it again, it showed not the Room of Requirement, but the usual corridor that led to the Common Room.

* * *

Severus set down yet another essay, having just finished grading it. His cruel, spiky black writing stuck out on the margins of the parchment, sure to soon make the first year Gryffindor who had written it cry. Rather than hearing the usual soft rustle of the parchment being set on his desk, he heard an unexpected knock. At once, he made for the door, and pulled it open to see Vesperra with something under her arm.

"I know you're probably busy," she said, "but it _is_ your birthday, and I think you ought to take a ten minute or so break."

Without even thinking about it, he pulled her in by her shoulder, and closed the door, putting an Imperturbable Charm upon it. He then breathed in sharply, and glanced at whatever was under her arm.

Vesperra could tell what his sharp inhale had meant, and she arched an eyebrow. "You forgot it was your own birthday?"

"No—of course I didn't forget," said Severus, "it just didn't register as important. It's as simple as remembering that it's a Sunday." He sat down on his couch out of habit, and Vesperra did as well, frowning slightly in amusement.

"Well," she said, pulling the book out from under her arm and handing it to him, "Happy Birthday."

"Vesperra—" Severus took the book and looked down at it, his eyes flitting across the title as his fingers ran down the spine. His brow furrowed, and he looked back to her, appearing anything but happy. "But you already got me Antimony—you said it would be my early birthday present, remember?"

Frowning, she recalled the day that she had given Severus the Antimony. She had not, in fact, remembered telling him that when thinking about his present. But she looked back up at him all the same, and said, "Well, what's done is done. The Antimony was so long ago, anyway…."

He glanced back at the cover of the book. "It looks expensive."

"Honestly, it wasn't very much. I got it in the Hogsmeade bookshop."

Not believing that it was even relatively cheap, he handed it back to her. "Thank you, but I can't take this. Take it back to Hogsmeade during your next trip and get your money back, I—"

"_Severus,_" she said almost sternly, shoving the book back towards him, "just take it. Trust me, I didn't pay very much money for this. I knew you would like it, and I didn't think you already owned it, so I got it. Can't you just enjoy your birthday and take a present from your best friend?" Lying to him, Vesperra noticed, was much easier when it was for his benefit.

"But this is too much," said Severus with a slightly sad look in his eyes. "Don't think that I'm not grateful, because I really am, but… this is just too much. Money was never an important thing between us, you know—two years ago it was a cake. Last year you—kissed me on the cheek. Books are in a similar realm, but when it costs as much as this must have… You take it. You bought it, so it's yours." He slid the book back into her hands, but she pushed it back again.

"What would I do with it? I've already read it through. Just—" Her tone changed unexpectedly as she had an idea and her brow unfurrowed, raising into an arch. "—fine. I bought it, so it's mine, and I'm sharing it with you. There's a lot of stuff about your great-grandfather in there—I know you'll find it interesting."

His stiff shoulders fell, and he was silent for a few seconds before he sighed. "Fair enough."

Severus still wondered how this book could have been within her price range, but he knew she wouldn't tell him, just like she wouldn't tell him how she'd procured the Antimony. And just like he wouldn't tell her certain things. But despite this, he looked down at the cover, which bore the title _Verifying Veridian, Philosophy of Prince_, now a bit fondly.

His arms flew outward seemingly of their own accord, and closed around Vesperra as he bent forward and sideways on the couch, hugging her. When he leaned back, it pulled her with him, and she had to sit with her knees on his lap so that it didn't feel awkward. But, nearly smiling, she hugged him back around his neck.

"Thank you," he said quietly, directly into her ear. "Just promise me that you'll never spend money on me again."

"Only if you promise you'll never spend money on me, either," she said, pressing her cheek into his.

"I don't think any promises will be made tonight, then."

* * *

The second week of January passed by slower than the first did, as Vesperra had to begin brewing the actual poison. Everything was essentially the same—the bitterly cold weather, the intensity of homework, the level of Malfoy's cruelty—except for the way Vesperra felt about what she was brewing. This wasn't an antidote anymore, it was poison.

More stress was on her, as more time was required to brew, and that gave her less time to do her homework. Several nights during the week, she stayed up well into the morning, and was extra irritable the next day, when she was taking classes under a few measly hours of sleep. It wasn't only the lack of sleep, but also the heaviness that had returned as she came to terms with what she was doing. Though the poison wasn't even finished yet, and wouldn't be for about another week, she was indirectly killing someone. In the future.

Perhaps she would have gotten more sleep if she didn't also spend time talking to Severus and neglecting to mention that she had homework to do. But if she couldn't hear his voice at night, she'd have nothing left.

Meanwhile, the rest of the school had something far less serious and stressful on their minds—Quidditch. The coming Saturday was a match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and this was the first time that Slytherin House had come this far in the Quidditch season for three years. Vesperra didn't pay much attention to the sport, nor did she care about it very much, but she knew that if Slytherin won, they would be playing Gryffindor in the last match of the season.

Even with the stress of the poison weighing on her, Vesperra did care about the outcome, because she, like every other Slytherin, wanted to have her House win the House Cup this year. In this, she was just like everybody else, no matter how much she hated it. Granted, she definitely wasn't that enthusiastic about it, but it was a cold desire that was radiating off many of the Slytherins.

Having kept the Quidditch match in mind when she had planned the schedule for brewing the poison, Vesperra did not need to miss any of it to brew; that wouldn't have to be done until later that day.

The weather was still absolutely freezing on Saturday morning, when she, along with the rest of the school, headed out to the pitch, but at least it wasn't raining or snowing. The clear, opaline sky made it easier to find Severus—but then again, also easier to be seen once she had.

* * *

"You know what," said Vesperra in a loud whisper as she sat down on the bench, "perhaps you should leave a little late some time, so you can come and find me for once."

After casting _Muffliato_ around them, Severus turned slightly to her. "I could, but a teacher, especially _me_, wading through a crowd of students and so obviously searching for someone specific would be rather suspicious."

She huffed. "You're right. Never mind. But I'm starting to think that it might not be a good idea for us to sit next to each other…."

"You're _just now_ thinking that?"

"Alright, I've _been_ thinking about it, just as you must have."

He waited a couple seconds in silence, then said, "Does that mean that you're going to go sit somewhere else to eliminate the risk of us being seen?"

"Nope."

Soon, the Slytherin team walked out onto the field, followed by the Ravenclaw team, both to massive cheering from their respective Houses. Less than a minute later, they were in the sky, and the game started.

It was a difficult match to follow, since Slytherin and Ravenclaw seemed evenly matched. In one minute Ravenclaw would be ahead, and then Slytherin would catch up within five or ten minutes, and the same thing would happen in reverse. After over forty-five minutes, Vesperra was admittedly getting bored, and wished that Malfoy would just catch the damn Snitch already. Even Severus was demanding that the match end soon in his mind, and he was getting uncomfortable after sitting on the wooden benches for so long.

However, about an hour in, Ravenclaw was too far ahead for Slytherin to catch up anytime soon, and their points only grew exponentially. Vesperra and Severus's hearts had dropped, as they refused to accept that Slytherin would be out of the running again.

And then, when the score was three-hundred and ten to four-hundred and fifty, there was a glint of gold in the sky—or had Vesperra just imagined that after seeing Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, soar in the direction of that exact spot? Malfoy sped after her, his Nimbus 2001 easily catching up with her. It became apparent that Chang was an excellent flyer, for she had managed to block Malfoy from flying into her path several times despite her inferior broomstick.

Their hearts pounding, Vesperra and Severus watched as Malfoy started to do a nose-dive under Chang; rather than crashing, however, he pulled up and soared upward at an angle from under her, directly blocking her flight path. He closed his hand around the Snitch, and the Slytherin side of the pitch erupted in cheers while everyone else booed and hissed.

Vesperra turned her head immediately to Severus, and he to her. Her heart seemed to be squirming now rather than pounding, unsure whether it should be excited that Slytherin had won, or bitter that Malfoy was sure to get even more attention than usual and even admired by many people for a while. Severus, who could never hate Malfoy as much as Vesperra did, no matter what, was simply frozen in the shock of Slytherin's narrow win, and feeling extremely satisfied.

During the brief second that their eyes locked before they got up from their seats, they conveyed an obvious, mutual thought: _Slytherin's actually got a real chance of winning this year._

* * *

**It was really fun to rewrite the Christmas dinner scene... I've always imagined Severus extremely annoyed in that scene. If only Vesperra hadn't agreed to brew the poison for Damien, and then she would have gone to the feast, and J.K. Rowling would have been informed of her existence. *Sigh***

**Well, I'd like to know what you guys think of the chapter and of any theories or anything else that you have, so PLEASE review!**

**On a mostly unrelated note, I recently watched _Labyrinth_, and I was thinking about writing a one-shot about Jareth and Sarah. Do any of you like _Labyrinth_? Tell me in the reviews whether or not you'd like me to write a one-shot for it.**


	43. Book 3: Chapter 15

**Get ready for a seriously shocking chapter, guys! It's also rather long, so it might take you a while to read it... I'm just trying to keep the rest of Book 3 in only a couple chapters, because I don't want it to become too long. Anyway, please enjoy it!**

* * *

"That was an _amazing_ capture, Malfoy!"

"We were nearly about to lose—perfect timing, Draco!"

"Draco, won't you tell us again about how you caught the Snitch?"

For several days after the match, all the school could talk about was Malfoy's excellent capture of the Snitch that had allowed Slytherin to win so narrowly. There was worse animosity than usual between Slytherin and the other three Houses, since everyone else must have been desperate for them to lose. And they must have been afraid that if Slytherin won the last match, they would get back on their winning streak for another seven years.

Amongst the Slytherins, Malfoy was nearly considered a God, especially by many of the girls. Students of all years would pass the section of third year Slytherins on their way to sitting with their own friends and compliment or thank him for winning the game. Marcus Flint was especially happy, and had thrown a sort of party in the Common Room the night after the match, to which Vesperra had obviously not been invited.

Pansy was pining over him more than ever, practically draping herself on him almost constantly. Malfoy was clearly enjoying the attention, and his smugness had reached maximum levels in a short time. As he had done with the story of Potter fainting on the Hogwarts Express, he told everyone an extremely dramatized version of how he had caught the Snitch at least twice a day.

This had to have been about the fifth time that Vesperra had heard the story, so she tried her best just to block it out while she ate dinner. However, she could still hear it vaguely, like a radio on very low volume playing in the back of her head.

"Alright," drawled Malfoy, his voice raising a single pitch in slight excitement. "So I was directly behind her, and even though my broom's about three times faster than Chang's, I couldn't get ahead, because I would have had to crash into her, and I would never hit a girl. Well, perhaps a Mudblood, but—nevermind." Vesperra resisted the urge to snort into her soup; _Right, he won't hit girls,_ she thought sardonically, _but he'll curse me, poison me, and try to set my hair on fire._ "Anyway, I knew there wasn't much time left, and I wasn't left with many options. I thought as fast as I could and decided to fly under. Then she was apparently confused, and couldn't stop me in time."

Pansy made sort of a squeeing noise and clung tighter to Malfoy's arm. Vesperra groaned inwardly, tired of him gaining so much admiration. According to what she had heard while walking through the corridors and picking up snippets of conversation about Quidditch, the fact that Slytherin had won narrowly meant that if Gryffindor won the coming match against Ravenclaw, then they'd be in second place. So rather than being praised for being clever at the last second, he should have been berated for not catching it earlier.

And the worst part was, Vesperra couldn't deny that it had, in fact, been very clever of Malfoy to do that. It had not been brute strength or even deceitful tactics that had won the game—that was all Malfoy's brain. But she definitely hadn't gained so much as a drop of respect for him afterwards.

"I'd like to have seen Grease-perra's face when you caught it," said Millicent, convulsing slightly with laughter at her thought.

"That shouldn't be too difficult to imagine," said Tracey, with a cold laugh in her voice. "It'd be a scowl, just like she always has. She never changes her expression, does she?"

Malfoy broke away from the limelight and leaned over on the table to be across from Vesperra, who was staring resolutely down at her bowl, counting the peas in the dregs of her soup in order to more easily ignore what everyone else was saying.

"Yeah," said Malfoy, "even if she was trying to decide whether to be happy that we won or to hate me even more, it would still be a scowl. You ought to smile more, Grease-perra—maybe then you'll be slightly less ugly and the most desperate of boys will start to consider you."

As they laughed, Vesperra's temper rose and her knuckles turned white. It _always_ came to this. No matter what the conversation was about, it always came back to Vesperra, and gave the lot of them ideas on how to torment her best. It wasn't so much the taunts about her being unattractive that had her so angry—she knew she wasn't that good-looking, and she didn't want anyone but Severus, anyway—as it was the fact that they were trying to make her miserable with these insults.

But it was to be expected, and Vesperra had learned to ignore it, however hard it was, a long time ago.

That week, Severus had to brew the Wolfsbane Potion again, and she was admittedly glad. She felt guilty for not brooding over her lack of contact with him for three days, but she wouldn't be bored enough to absolutely need to talk to him this time.

With Severus not being able to talk to her at all, Vesperra hardly found any risk in taking almost daily and sometimes nightly trips to the Room of Requirement to work on the poison, which was coming along rather well. Having researched the dates of the full moon and incorporated Severus's brewing schedule into hers when she had originally planned it, she found it much easier. The only problem was the possibility of her taking the shortcut to her dorm that the Room provided while Millicent was walking down the corridor, and her seeing nothing but a blank wall until the door appeared again. At least, that's how Vesperra imagined it would be.

The free time allowed her to finish all her homework as well, and it even left her time for a decent sleep. She found it quite ironic, however, that Severus had assigned her and the rest of the third years an essay on Undetectable Poisons—needless to say, it was extremely easy, and it was nearly twice the length he had asked for. It was as though her potion-making was paralleling Severus's, though in the opposite sense. However, she didn't feel so bad anymore, knowing that she _wasn't_ stress-free while Severus had a lot of strain put on him from the Wolfsbane Potion.

Rather conveniently, Vesperra thought, the day after Severus was finished with it was a Saturday, which meant a full day of her casting unidentifiable Patronuses in an attempt to strengthen her control over them, and just spending time together after three days of no communication but a significant, shared look at breakfast or dinner. But, since she had to get away to the Room of Requirement later in the day, though not as late as usual, she was extra stubborn in practicing—to the point where she was somewhat emotionally distant from him in order to make herself so tired that Severus would send her off to her dorm himself. She just couldn't stand feigning tiredness, even though it had her almost too exhausted to work on the poison after she left.

The next morning, she woke up still in the Room of Requirement, long-ways on the couch on which she had sat down to relax the night before after having forced herself to complete that night's addition of Peruvian Viper fangs and stirring. Her face was stuck to the arm of the couch with sweat—or drool, she wasn't sure, and there was a rip-like noise when she detached them, getting up to check the cauldron and make sure that she hadn't been so exhausted last night that she had messed it up without realizing it.

Seeing no signs of the wrong amount of fangs having been added or any other possible mistakes, she left through the shortcut to her dorm as quietly as she could so as to not wake up Millicent.

Wednesday couldn't get there fast enough, for that was the day that, according to her schedule, the poison would be completely finished. It was rather strange that the day happened to be a full moon as well. The fact that the lunar cycle was at its peak didn't have anything to do with the poison, but there was an eerie feel to the mere thought of it nevertheless.

For Severus, she knew, the full moon meant the last day for another month that Lupin would have to come to his office for the Wolfsbane Potion, as well as added stress for worry about Sirius Black and Lupin's questionable loyalties. Otherwise the full moon wasn't very significant, but Vesperra had a feeling that it would finalize her time brewing the poison powerfully. It was just that sort of natural magic that you couldn't ignore.

On Wednesday evening, Vesperra's ambivalence was so unstable that she was beginning to have a headache, but she could feel the individual feelings distinctly as she added the final touches to the steaming liquid inside the cauldron. There was the guilt she'd already accepted a while ago of completely breaking her promise to Severus, the undeniable heaviness that came with being an indirect accomplice in a murder, and yet, there was something darkly satisfying about seeing the liquid turn completely still and clear and then holding a vial of it, knowing that you held the power to kill someone in your hand.

Her mind raced, and she thought of all the people that she'd like to use it on. There was a glint in her eye that she saw in the reflection of the glass, and purely ill-intentions briefly shrouded her heart, eliciting a twitch at the edge of her lips. Rather than suddenly jerking herself out of that, however, she sighed and placed the vial in the box that also held the antidote. As she did, she noticed a word appear on the rims of each vial, labeling them as _poison_ and _antidote_.

Of course, Vesperra was extremely relieved that it was over, and could not help but feel the satisfaction of finishing what she had worked so hard on, no matter what it was meant to do. Aside from everything—her promise to Severus, the illegality of what she had done, and how much time it had cost her, she had brewed a potion so advanced that many adult witches or wizards would not have been able to pull it off. A poison like this was pure power in her hands, not to mention a mark of her abilities. And she always took pride in her abilities.

Stress had been an important ingredient, she realized. Otherwise, it just wouldn't work the same. Not even a potioneer as skilled as Severus or his great-grandfather could have managed this without some level of stress. To only keep one vial for Damien and get rid of the rest would have been a waste….

_Just in case,_ she told herself. _It's just in case I ever need it._ And, as the Room gave her the pre-labeled vials she required, she filled a couple of them. _Really, I'm not further breaking my promise by keeping them, _she told herself as she returned to her dorm, carrying the box and other vials and the book of poisons. _I'm not going to just poison all the people I hate. There might come a time where it's necessary._

As she pulled on the doorknob and the door swung on its arc to close, a great deal of weight on her chest that she had grown used to over the past month disappeared. Though closing the door did not seal the Room of Requirement away forever, the sense of an end reverberated in the air when it shut. There would be no returning to the Room to brew; she was finally finished, and the burden of stress as well as guilt that had been eating her whenever she was around Severus was gone. The poison business may not have been completely over, but she did feel free from it.

The only thing left to do was to send the box to Damien, and then wait for an answer as to whom she was helping him murder.

* * *

Since Christmas, Severus's paranoia had been sedated somewhat. The Firebolt was still in McGonagall's custody, but neither Madam Hooch nor Flitwick was having any luck with discovering what must have been done to it. He knew that he'd be extremely paranoid if no threat had been made on Potter's life at all. If the boy had seemed absolutely safe, he would have known that it was time to worry. What would have been suspicious more than anything would have been Lupin and Black's lack of action, because when all seems calm, it almost always means that something bigger and more threatening is brewing underneath.

However, worry and confusion had began creeping up on him again, for McGonagall had finally allowed him to attempt to reveal any curses on the Firebolt and he had found none. If _he_ couldn't find anything, there was a slim chance that there were any curses on it unless they were so powerfully concealed that only Voldemort himself could have done it. Severus was now spending his nights racking his brains for answers and, after finishing the Wolfsbane Potion, talking to Vesperra about it. Both of them had agreed that it was likely that Black or Lupin had still been the one to send it, but that the broom had been a red herring while they were planning something different.

Vesperra, as expected, hadn't seemed the least bit concerned for Potter's life, and Severus had acted as though he didn't genuinely care, either. He only needed to appear as though he was stressed because he had sworn to keep the students safe, and because he wanted Black to be recaptured and thrown back in Azkaban—or worse. And both of those things were completely true, so it wasn't at all difficult.

Spying on Lupin recommenced, and Severus strained his mind to think of what the werewolf could possibly doing when Severus was looking the other way. He refused to believe that Lupin was doing nothing even while he was ill from it nearly being the night of the full moon or just afterwards, and was beginning to feel the paranoia of waiting for something that never happens—because all he could do at this point was wait and watch.

Talking to Vesperra, however, was still a priority, and he made sure not to neglect her over his self-imposed duties that he couldn't even explain to her. On Saturday morning, he made it clear to her that he felt it necessary to take short breaks throughout the day to find out what Lupin was doing, and she didn't seem to mind.

* * *

"We could just use a Foe-Glass in the Room of Requirement like we did two years ago to see if he's doing anything suspicious, though," she suggested when he told her this. They were sitting on the couch in his office, about five inches apart.

"I did think about that," said Severus, "but it wasn't very efficient back then, remember? Quirrell still managed to learn how to get past everything guarding the Stone. And the suspicious thing is that Lupin's not doing anything suspicious. In all the times that I've followed him or found other means to spy on him, all I've seen him doing is staying in his office, talking to the other teachers, or taking a walk around the grounds. And whenever he takes a walk, that's all he does. He doesn't go anywhere else." Severus sighed, and added bitterly, "I don't understand it."

Vesperra automatically reached for his hand to squeeze comfortingly, but she was silent, as she couldn't think of what to say that would reassure him. And, for a moment, she vaguely realized how strange it was for a third year to be trying to reassure a grown man. However, she was experiencing the stress as he did, and had experienced the stress of a lifetime over the past month as well.

"Neither do I," she said after a minute, frowning slightly. "The only thing I can think of is that Lupin's communicating with Black while he's inside his office, which would mean that they're either speaking through the Floo network or that they've got something like our journals that let them talk over long distances."

Severus shifted in his seat, and squeezed her hand back. "Well, I don't think it's through the Floo network, because Lupin's doors aren't soundproof and I would have heard. The second thing, though—that's very possible." He furrowed his brow, frowning at the floor, and swallowed. "But I've also raided his office, so if your theory is correct, he either keeps whatever he uses in his chambers or on his person. So I can do nothing about it."

He looked down at her, and Vesperra inhaled sharply at the slight arch of his brow in the look that he gave her. A moment later, he turned his head to face directly in front of him, exhaled, and stood up, pulling her up with him. Though clearly still feeling rather angsty about Lupin, he said, "But I'm not going to let that ruin your Saturday, and I believe you came here to practice casting your Patronus."

"It wouldn't ruin my Saturday, Severus," Vesperra argued, unsure why she was doing so. "I want Black dead and Lupin caught too; you're not alone in that. But I do want to practice…."

Smiling slightly, but only with his eyes as Vesperra usually did, Severus let go of her hand and stood next to the wall.

Now that she had finished the poison and sent it, and would no longer have to lie to Severus about it, Vesperra was feeling admittedly content to a point. With confidence, she raised her wand, and said, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A silvery mass erupted from the tip of her wand, and she strained her mind to focus on it, to make it slow down, to make it distinguishable… But the streaks of light were too quick, and Vesperra could hardly make out anything on the silver creature but for four legs and a whip-like tail. After it soared around the room once and disappeared, she turned to Severus. He knew what her look meant and shook his head—he hadn't been able to tell, either. Both of them knew that she was getting closer, though.

The next couple tries had similar results, but took less energy than it normally did. Instead of taking a break, as Severus suggested, Vesperra insisted that she try one more time. As she took her stance, something in her heart changed—either something was gained, or something disappeared. For the life of her she could not tell, but she knew it was for the better. Breathing hard, she focused with all her might on the few seconds' worth of memory of Severus kissing her, and the explosion she had felt in her chest…

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Something in her voice had changed as well, and silvery light issued forth from her wand once more, this time not zooming around uncontrollably, but taking a form and gliding gracefully around her, much like Severus's doe had done a few months ago.

To most people, it would have appeared to be simply a jungle cat, but Vesperra knew, without having to research distinctive traits of specific big cats, that it was a jaguar. A large, beautiful, sleek jaguar with a large nose. In total awe, she watched it pounce upward, running around the walls, but not so fast that it became any less distinguishable. Soon she voluntarily let it go, and it vanished with a very soft _pop_.

Her chest heaving and arms shaking, Vesperra continued to stare at the spot where it had vanished, waiting for the silver streaks to leave her vision. Severus's hand closed around hers and guided her back to the couch, which she needed, since her self-amazement had caused her to not be fully there.

Severus was breathing just as deeply, and his heart was pounding just as hard for what he had witnessed. As powerful and talented as he knew Vesperra was, he was nothing less than amazed that she had managed this—and also quite interested in what animal it had become.

Rubbing her back both to soothe her contained excitement and as congratulatory sentiments, he smiled proudly at her.

"A jaguar," he said softly, intending her to take it as either a question or a statement—whichever she chose.

Vesperra let her shoulders drop to relax, and she felt like laughing with satisfaction at her accomplishment. At Severus's words, she paused, and made a split-second decision that she knew she may regret later—but she would also regret it if she didn't do it.

"I've always thought," she said slowly, turning her head to look at him, "that you were a lot like a jaguar." She locked gazes with him, waiting to hear what he would say.

He inhaled deeply and didn't look away from her as he thought about what she had said. Severus felt like he should have expected this—but essentially, he _had_: Vesperra's happiest thoughts were all about him. Well, how could they not be, when she had been abused by her parents for years and then bullied relentlessly by even those of her own House once she had come to Hogwarts?

Ignoring the larger, underlying fact of what her Patronus most likely meant, Severus smirked at the thought of him being a jaguar. Now that he thought about it, he could see it….

"You know," he finally replied, squeezing her hand, "I think it's rather fitting."

* * *

Snow swirled around the village, sparkling white through the thick darkness. None of the inhabitants of Godric's Hollow were out this late, and only one or two dim, yellow squares shone in the distance amongst the streetlights. Severus could not bring himself to look at the half-destroyed house that had come into view as he passed it for more than a mere moment, nor could he look at the statue of the Potters that had been an obelisk covered in names a second earlier.

His purpose tonight was only to visit the marble tombstone that stood above the remnants of Lily's body, for it was the thirty-first of January—her birthday. Lily's son was in more danger than ever this year, and it was for this that he was nearly in hysterics when he knelt down on her grave, clutching at the empty space in front of her engraved name.

"I'm doing the best I can, Lily, I swear I am…. But Potter's friend betrayed you, and now he's after your son, and I'm trying to protect him—to catch Black…." Severus spoke in a hoarse whisper, trembling and convulsing with the extreme force of his grief. He let the ground soak up his hot tears, as though they could bring her back to life. "But—but I have a chance this time, Lily, I can—kill the man that betrayed you and caused your death, and I can delay the Dark Lord's return…. I won't let your son die, I swear I'll keep him safe, and I'll try to avenge your death, and… I'll do what you—you'd want me to do. I can't be a kind person, I was never so perfect like you, Lily, but I'm keeping everyone safe, Lily, I'm doing this for you, and trying not to be selfish…. _I'm so sorry…._"

At that, his grief became beyond words, but Severus continued to mouth them, some of them would-be nonsensical, but no sound came out. The tears stopped as well, and for a while he was just trembling there, pressing his face to the marble. Years ago, he'd have been wishing that he was dead as well, under the snow and dirt with her, but now he couldn't possibly wish that. Wishing to be dead would be selfish, for if he died, he'd be leaving Vesperra alone and with absolutely nothing. He _must_ stay alive—if not to make sure Lily hadn't died in vain, then to make sure Vesperra didn't have to be in his position.

"I—I told you, two years ago," whispered Severus to Lily, feeling as though she was truly there for the time being, "that I had help—Vesperra. And I want you to know that if it comes down to her life and your son's, I… wouldn't be able to choose. Please… please don't let the circumstances ever fall to where I have to choose, if you have any power over it, wherever you are. I know you'd like Vesperra…. You'd see past her faults like you did mine, and that she's a wonderful person…."

Tearswere streaming down his face again, and through a haze of pain he looked once more at Lily's engraved name. Inside him was a storm of mixed emotions, the strongest of them being the grief and guilt, and his desire to redeem himself in Lily's unseeing eyes. Severus then kissed his fingers and pressed them to the marble, caressing it as though it was Lily's face, and conjured a wreath of lilies to place on the grave.

"I love you," he whispered, standing up and forcing himself to be strong again. "Happy birthday." Seconds later, the church clock struck midnight, and the bell continued to echo through Severus's mind even as he spun on his heel and vanished on the spot.

* * *

If the last day of January hadn't been highly significant to Severus, the fade into February would have been imperceptible, as the weather and surroundings were still as bitterly cold as they had been for weeks since around Christmas. Severus had returned to the castle that night more determined than ever to see to it that Black met his comeuppance, and good news for him arrived two days later, just after the post owls made their usual drop-off in the morning.

It wasn't headline news (_why_, Severus couldn't imagine), but it was said in the _Daily Prophet_ that the Ministry had now given the dementors permission to use the Dementor's Kiss on Black if they found him. Whether it was to ensure that the public felt safe or to encourage the dementors a bit more, Severus didn't care; all he knew was that Black would deserve what he got—though he'd still like to catch the bastard himself.

Later that evening in the staffroom, however, there was bad news to counter that. Bad news for Severus, anyway—even with the combined effort of many of the other teachers, nothing had been found wrong with Potter's Firebolt.

"Nothing?" Severus had said, raising an interrogative eyebrow.

"Absolutely nothing," reiterated McGonagall, sounding a little bemused herself. "I suppose if I don't return it to Potter soon, I'd be hoarding student property…." As she made for the staffroom door, holding the broom in her hand, she threw him a catlike side-glance through her spectacles and said, "Gryffindor may not be out of the running after all."

Severus scowled as the door shut, not only feeling the paranoia that came with the suspiciousness of the fact that the broom wasn't cursed at all, but also with the thought that McGonagall was right. This would heighten Gryffindor's chance of winning tenfold. Now with only the hope that Black would be caught and Kissed soon, he stalked away towards the dungeons.

* * *

Since Severus had told her about Potter getting the Firebolt back (as well as everything about Black) the evening before, Vesperra wasn't surprised when, on the morning of the Quidditch match, Potter strolled into the Great Hall with a gleaming broom in his hand. While most of the Slytherins, especially Malfoy and the rest of the team, looked thunderstruck, she narrowed her eyes coldly and didn't bother to take a second glance at him.

Though she wasn't watching, Vesperra could tell by the reflections in her plate and the shuffling noises behind her that people from other Houses were going over to the Gryffindor table to get a good look at it. Only those in Slytherin remained in their seats, and were still gaping at Potter, muttering to their friends.

"Is that—"

"—a Firebolt?"

"But—that's impossible!"

Shock turned to anger, as it already had in Vesperra. Finally, there was a loud thunk, and Vesperra glanced up to see that Malfoy had slammed down his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"That's it, I'm going over there," he said maliciously, standing up. "Crabbe, Goyle—" But he didn't need to tell them, for they had already stood up as well and were ready to follow him like some kind of lapdogs. The other members of the Slytherin team craned their heads to watch as Malfoy swaggered over there, and when he returned minutes later, they all put their heads together and Malfoy confirmed, with bitter resentment, that it was, indeed a Firebolt.

However, the team wasn't looking as angry as they could have been, nor did they seem sure that Gryffindor was even going to win.

"Your plan better work, then," said Marcus Flint to Malfoy, almost so quietly that Vesperra couldn't hear. She looked up just far enough at an angle to see Malfoy nodding and smirking in a way that couldn't be good.

When it was nearing eleven o'clock, Vesperra headed down to the pitch with everyone else, wondering desperately what Malfoy's plan was, and hoping that, whatever sort of underhanded scheme it was, it would work.

* * *

"_Must_ he keep reminding us about that?" muttered Severus to himself, voicing Vesperra's thoughts as well. It had been the third—or perhaps the fourth time that Lee Jordan, the commentator, had gone into lengthy detail about Potter's Firebolt, only to be stopped by McGonagall, who was sitting next to him as she always did. They could plainly see for themselves just how fast Potter was going, especially in this daylight. It was a sunny, almost cloudless day with only a light breeze.

Vesperra had found Severus easily, for he had told her where he planned to find a seat the night before, but with absolutely no visibility problems, she was often scanning the crowd on the other side of the pitch to make sure no one was looking at them. But really, no one was paying the least bit of attention to the crowd; this match was possibly the most exciting one in years, since there had never been a professional broom used in a Hogwarts game before.

Gryffindor had been winning eighty points to nothing, and Potter had very nearly caught the Snitch just a few minutes ago, but Ravenclaw scored three goals in another ten minutes. Just as much of the rest of the school must have been, Vesperra and Severus were kept on their toes, their hearts beating fast with anxiety. It seemed so unlikely for Gryffindor to lose, but they couldn't just accept it….

And then, as Potter zoomed so fast that he became a red blur in the sky, the Ravenclaw Seeker, Chang, flew in front of him and he swerved. The Gryffindor captain's yells were audile even from the stands.

"HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

_If he's anything like his father, he won't have any trouble with that,_ thought Severus.

He seemed to be correct; Potter dived, with Chang tailing him, and pulled out of it very sharply as the girl nearly collided with the ground. Seconds later, he accelerated towards the Ravenclaw end, and the Ravenclaw Seeker copied him, though she wasn't nearly as fast enough. Vesperra's heart stopped and she instinctively reached for Severus's hand to squeeze very hard, and he squeezed back—they were both horribly sure that Potter would catch the Snitch and it would all be over—

But then, in his peripheral vision, Severus saw something down below on the pitch that shouldn't have been there, and he tugged Vesperra's arm. She looked at him, and then followed his eyes; standing on the pitch were three tall, black, hooded dementors looking up at Potter. But their breath didn't hitch, their hearts didn't grow cold, and the dementors on the field didn't have the eerie quality to them that they should have….

Before they could react, several things happened in a matter of a couple seconds; a roaring of indistinct words came from above them, and they whipped their heads back up to Potter, who had his wand pointed downward, and something silvery erupting out of it. A dazzlingly bright stag soared down to the supposed dementors on the pitch, who jumped aside. And though neither Vesperra nor Severus actually saw Potter's fingers close around the Snitch, they knew by the sudden, tumultuous roar of cheering that he had caught it.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and Gryffindor supporters started rushing onto the pitch to congradulate the team while Slytherins sat agape or otherwise stood up and stomped furiously out of the stands. However, Vesperra and Severus were much too shocked at what they had just seen to even feel the extreme disappointment yet, and looked to each other, eyes wide and brows furrowed, as though hoping to get an answer from the other.

"When the hell did _Potter_ learn to cast a Patronus?" Vesperra said first, her voice rising in shock and anger. "That doesn't even—_how_—he's never—" She was at a loss for words and didn't continue that thought, but instead said, "And what did he even shoot it at? Those weren't dementors."

Without answering her, Severus tugged her upward and said, "Come on. Stay a ways behind me."

She did as he told her, and after a few seconds realized his intentions. On their way back to the castle, they passed the gaggle of Gryffindors surrounding and congratulating Potter—Lupin being one of them, Severus noticed—and saw, nearby, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint, all holding overlarge black robes and being chewed out by McGonagall and a stern-looking Dumbledore.

Once they were inside Severus's office and the door had closed, Vesperra clutched at the air in frustration and didn't hesitate to speak everything that was on her mind.

"So _that_ was their plan? Dress up as dementors? Those—bloody—idiots!" she fumed, so angry that she couldn't even be happy that they had gotten detention. "It didn't even distract him, and they've gone and lost fifty points from Slytherin!"

She had remained standing in her rant, so Severus grabbed the crook of her arm and pulled her down to the couch as he sat down. He was just as angry, and it showed through his deep scowl.

"You knew about it?" he asked.

"Well, they'd only said this morning that they had a plan of some sort," growled Vesperra. "I didn't know what they were going to do. But it doesn't even matter anymore…. And—_how_? _HOW_ did Potter learn to cast a Patronus? Someone must have taught him—"

"Lupin," said Severus quietly, a glint of anger flashing in his eye. "I'll bet Lupin taught him… to get closer to him…. No one else would have done it. And while he was doing that, sending the Firebolt and causing a commotion would have distracted Potter and everyone else from what he's trying to do… whatever he's doing."

Vesperra was silent for a few seconds, and watched the flame grow in Severus's eyes. He was somewhat frightening in his cold anger.

"Still… Potter's never seemed capable of magic that powerful," said Vesperra, more to herself than to Severus. "As _famous_ as the prat is, he's hardly above average when it comes to magical skill. And… it was a stag. The male version of your Patronus. That's rather strange."

"It's really not," said Severus, trying hard to keep his voice even and void of anger. "A stag was his father's Patronus too." Remembering James Potter and how he had fancied Lily for years while she had hated him, and how the bastard's Patronus had become the male counterpart to hers, Severus scowled in disgust. _Like father, like son._

But that had only confused Vesperra more. "Why was Potter's father's Patronus the male version of yours, then? That doesn't make any sense."

He sighed. The reason he had said anything in the first place was because he wanted to hint to Vesperra about his love for Potter's mum so she might suspect it for herself before hearing the truth, whenever he decided to tell it. Severus wasn't going to tell her the story today, though, especially not when so much fury was radiating off of the both of them.

"We don't choose our Patronuses," he replied. "And mine has nothing to do with Potter, nor his with me. Different people can have the same Patronus, as there are only so many animals in the world, and ours just happen to be similar."

"Hm." Vesperra leaned back, letting go of her questions about the Patronus and now coming to the major reason for her anger. "…Gryffindor won," she muttered, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the ceiling.

"I know," said Severus. He looked at her and grabbed her hand in an attempt to make the both of them feel better about all of this, but it didn't work.

"I feel like throwing something. Preferably Malfoy, and into a wall…. And I don't think I could cast a Patronus today, when I'm this angry."

"It's not as though you still need any practice…."

"I still want to work on controlling it better, though. But we'll do that tomorrow, I suppose, if you have time."

After a lunch that Severus had gotten from the House Elves, they spent much of their day in mutual bitterness about everything that had happened at the Quidditch match. There were almost no smiles or kind words between them, but one could hardly say that they were angry at each other. They were, in fact, bonding by abusing Potter, Malfoy, Black, and Lupin in their growls of contempt. But they did calm down after a while, and, in the evening after Severus returned from taking a quick check on Lupin, their topic of conversation stuck to Black and their theories about him.

"I've scoured the _Daily Prophet_ in the past couple days for anything else about Black," Severus said, gesturing sharply at the rolled-up newspaper on his desk, "but there was nothing else but the bit about the Dementor's Kiss. The Ministry clearly has no idea what they're doing."

"It's _one_ man…. How can it be so difficult to find _one_ man when they have all of Britain, Wizard _and_ Muggle, looking out for him?" Vesperra made a noise of mixed impatience and annoyance, then let her head fall on Severus's arm. She found comfort and calmness in leaning on him.

"It was the same way with the Dark Lord before his downfall," explained Severus. "Well, similar. He appeared in public quite a few times, but only his followers—and not even all of them—knew where he was the rest of the time. Neither the Ministry nor the Order of the Phoenix ever got close to discovering where he was—Black'll be using the same sort of Dark Magic."

Conversation continued like this between them for a while even after dinner, and it wasn't until it was a quarter until midnight that Severus told Vesperra that she looked rather tired and should go to her dorm. Glad that she never dreamt, as she knew she'd be having extremely stressful dreams about Black if she did, Vesperra agreed and stood up.

However, a half-glance at his desk made her stop, a thought coming to her. Through a yawn, she said, "Wait—Severus, can I borrow that issue of the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Sure, but I don't think anything in there will be of interest," he said, arching an eyebrow slightly, wondering why she wanted it. "Nothing about Black, at least."

"I'm going to read through it anyway." Hiding her slight eagerness, she walked over to his desk, rolled up the two day-old newspaper a little tighter, and stuffed it in her robe pocket. Vesperra once again headed for the door, and just before she closed it behind her—"Night, Severus."

* * *

When Vesperra got back to her dorm, however, she didn't go to sleep. The prospect of finding out who Damien had used the poison on—if anything was even in the _Prophet_ about it—had her fully awake again. Ignoring Millicent, who was putting on her nightclothes and glaring at Vesperra as she walked in, she went immediately to her bed and pulled the curtains back so that they concealed her.

With a very softly uttered "Lumos," her wand lit at its tip, and Vesperra sat, leaning against the wall, reading the _Prophet _by wandlight. Soon, she heard the sound of bed hangings being pulled shut again, and knew that Millicent had gone to bed.

Vesperra read through every story, just in case. Many of them were rather dull, and concerned famous Quidditch players or Ministry proceedings that she didn't care about. Her heart stopped every time she saw the word "death," but it restarted disappointedly every time she saw that it had nothing to do with a poison. There really weren't many serious crimes—not in this issue, at least; most of it was someone selling illegal substances or tricking Muggles into buying cursed items. With every passing irrelevant story, she lost a tiny bit of hope that she would find anything, but crumpling up the paper and declaring in her mind that it was no use was the last thing she intended to do.

And then, at the bottom of a dull article about the current state of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Vesperra read,

_Furthermost, the Hit Wizards that had been assigned to the case continue to be baffled by the mysterious poisoning of Jude Adler, late husband of Sapphira Adler, nee Lestrange. Their attempts to track down the guilty witch or wizard have been futile, and any motive that the murderer had remains unknown._

There may have been more to the article on another page, but Vesperra didn't know nor care; she had been frozen with shock, and had dropped the Daily Prophet as well as her wand to her lap. The wandlight still kept the small space between her bed and ceiling lit, but she didn't need to see anything else to think.

Her thought process was, however, slowing down as though the wheels were stuck in tar, and she was finding it difficult to fathom what she had just read. It was just too unexpected and too unbelievable for her to take in—much like the year before, when she had read about her mum's cousins being Death Eaters.

Not only had she discovered the name of the man she had helped murder, but she had learned who he had widowed—Sapphira Lestrange. This, according to Damien's story, made Sapphira Damien's mother. Vesperra's aunt was Damien's mother.

They were cousins.

_Cousins… _cousins_, and he knew the whole bloody time!_ Her initial shock had turned into anger—not that the shock had worn off. But it now made sense why Damien would have told her the details of the story but not the actual names; he had wanted to keep her from knowing that she was helping him murder her own uncle. The fact that she had indirectly killed a relative hardly registered to her as much, though, since she couldn't care less about her mum's side of the family, especially not a man that had stolen her aunt from Damien's father.

As much as it explained, this opened up so many new questions. Amidst Vesperra's sudden, splitting headache from this almost incomprehensible truth, she felt her burning curiosity grow stronger. She wanted—she _needed_ to talk to Damien, and ask him why the hell he had never told her before, and ask him how long he had known, and…

Her thought process slowed to a near stop again, and all that Vesperra was capable of thinking was, _I have a cousin. I have a _cousin_. All this time, I've been friends with my cousin, and didn't even know it…._

There had seemed to be no chance of her falling asleep then, but what felt like hours later, there was no more room in her mind for incredulous thoughts or questions she mentally noted to ask Damien, her _cousin_, and she left the world where rational thought existed or was even necessary.

* * *

Back in his office, Severus, who had absolutely no idea of Vesperra's discovery, had been sorting out a stack of papers on his desk before going to bed himself, but was interrupted by a silvery shape shooting through the office door and landing in front of him. It materialized in the shape of a cat, and Severus's heart stopped at once.

"_Sirius Black has broken in again,_" said the Patronus in the high-strung voice of McGonagall. "_Come to the staffroom immediately._" With that, it disappeared, and Severus was left standing alone in his office, his mind racing.

For a moment, he could not react with anything but stiff shock, but it was a split second later that his office door was thrown open, Severus already hurrying down the dungeon corridor and up to the first floor to get to the staffroom. His heart was racing as quickly as his thoughts now, each pump of blood fueling him with more fear, more anger, more hatred, more vindictiveness….

_Black, in the castle again? I should have known, dammit, I should have foreseen this…. _

When he arrived in the staffroom, he saw that at least half of the staff was already there, including Dumbledore, who looked grave. Severus kept his expression unreadable, and quickly approached the Headmaster.

"What happened?" he said urgently, his black eyes flashing. Dumbledore opened his mouth, but it was McGonagall, behind him, who answered.

"Black very nearly took Potter's life no longer than ten minutes ago," she said, her usually stiff voice shaking slightly and her lips as thin as they could go, though she was speaking quickly. "But he got the wrong bed. Ron Weasley woke up just in time and screamed, and Black ran for it. Obviously we're conducting a search of the castle—but we're not moving the students. It's already late, and Black wouldn't be able to get into any of the other Common Rooms—"

"Severus," said Dumbledore, his even voice cutting into the thick veil that seemed to be wrapped around Severus's heart, having shrouded it deeper in dread, "I'll need you and Filch to check the dungeons. Now, and quickly."

He didn't hesitate to stride out of the staffroom, Filch hobbling behind him. It was apparent that the paintings on the walls of the corridors and the Hogwarts ghosts, who they sometimes saw floating eerily by, had been told to keep a lookout as well. All throughout that night's search, which extended to several other areas of the castle for Severus, the main thing that kept him going and not tired at all was the insatiable desire to find Black and kill him.

The same thoughts continued to run through his mind—_Potter was inches from death…. Black was in his dorm, with him…. I could have failed…_

However, as he learned from his return to the staffroom about twenty minutes before dawn, the rest of the staff had come up short; Black had escaped yet again. And it filled Severus with immense anger, a controlled fury even worse than what he had felt the last time that Black had made it into the castle.

"Very well," said Dumbledore solemnly. "I don't think any of us expected him to stick around this time…. And I doubt any of you will be able to sleep after this, but do try to rest, all of you."

Other teachers nodded slowly and made for the door, but, his face set, Severus strode over once more and walked with Dumbledore. Waiting for any other teachers to be out of earshot, he said acidly, "Do you have any guesses as to how Black made it in _this_ time?"

"None but those that have already been on my mind, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly, though with a firm edge in his voice.

His arms folded behind his back, Severus arched his neck slightly and looked at the old man with almost a mad look in his eye. "Headmaster, you know my suspicions… and it is foolish to believe so firmly that Black did not receive any inside help—"

"I'll decide what's foolish and what isn't, Severus," said Dumbledore, more sternly this time. He gave Severus a piercing gaze over his half-moon glasses. "Remus helped look for Black tonight; I trust him completely. And though I trust you as well, until you're the Headmaster of this school, or on the back of a Chocolate Frog card, I will not be making decisions based on your childhood grudges."

Severus was silent for a few seconds, exploding internally with fury but not daring to express it to Dumbledore. _How_ could the man be that naïve? Dumbledore—the man who had been possibly the cleverest student to ever attend Hogwarts, who had defeated Grindelwald all those years ago, who had led the Order of the Phoenix prior to Voldemort's downfall… It just didn't make sense.

But then, he pushed aside his anger at the man, and said, "How did Black get into Gryffindor Tower, then? I thought it was impossible without the password—"

"He had the password, Severus." Dumbledore looked grave again. "Apparently, Neville Longbottom had written down the week's passwords, and Black found them, and read off the list. That boy will have to take care of his forgetfulness…. It nearly cost Harry his life."

Becoming tense again, Severus had to employ mild Occlumency to keep his rage from showing. _Longbottom… So it's all Longbottom's fault. That bloody idiot nearly caused Potter's death, and it was only by chance that Potter survived…. Because of him, I might have failed, and Vesperra would have been all I had left…._

"But we mustn't blame the boy entirely," said Dumbledore, interrupting Severus's internal rant. "Sir Cadogan was the portrait that allowed a known criminal entrance. He will have to be moved, of course… I think the Fat Lady should be properly restored by now. Well, Severus, I have things take care of, and I believe you may want to attempt to get some sleep."

They had reached the Entrance Hall, and Dumbledore gestured toward the dungeons. With only a sharp wave for a "Goodnight," Severus disappeared down the staircase and returned to his office, feeling absolutely murderous.

_Once again, Potter nearly died while it wasn't even under my control…. And once again, I've lost the chance to capture Black…_ The next time Black came into the castle, he would have to be ready, and he would have to kill that bastard before he had the chance to even lay a hand on Potter.

* * *

True to Hogwarts's usual standards, the story of Black having broken into the castle and nearly killing Weasley instead of Potter had traveled to Vesperra's ears by the next morning, and her new dread was so great that all thoughts of Damien being her cousin were driven from her mind.

It was also common knowledge that it had all been Longbottom's fault, and while she didn't really care whether any Gryffindors (especially not Potter) lived or died, she enjoyed seeing the idiot more humiliated than ever; it was a bit of grim satisfaction in the middle of all the heaviness that had returned to her during breakfast.

_Black… in the castle… again. Dammit, Severus and I knew this would happen after the Firebolt…. And Lupin must have helped him again. _She looked towards the Staff Table, attempting to analyze Lupin, but nothing was discernible from his expression.

What was more stressful than anything was that Severus was sure to force himself to take patrols every day, and would stress out so much that it hurt Vesperra in turn. As much as she wished Black would be captured or killed—or Kissed, she hated to see Severus so stressed out. When he was like that, he was so obviously suffering internal conflict almost constantly, and he had a habit of pulling his hair out, which he had done a few times since her first year when Vesperra had first noticed it.

Sunday was rather busy for most of the staff, but she and Severus did manage to spend a little bit of time together. Vesperra didn't mind, as she knew his duties needed to come first, and spent much of her time relaxing in his office while he was helping other teachers with setting up safety measures or patrolling out of his own free will.

Several things were set up in Hogwarts to ensure that Sirius Black would be virtually unable to get into the castle or, if those failed, into Gryffindor Tower. According to what Severus had told her, Flitwick was teaching the front doors to recognize a picture of Black, and security trolls were hired as extra protection for the Fat Lady's portrait. Even with these, however, Vesperra did not feel any less paranoid and was still full of dread for Black's next attempt, whenever and whatever it was.

During that day, Vesperra and Severus talked only about Black, and in bitter growls, when they were with each other. And when Severus left her (although reluctantly, it seemed) to relax on the couch in his office, her train of thought alternated between Damien and Sirius Black. Sometimes she would cast a Patronus just for the heck of it and to have something for company while Severus was gone.

And still, the gentle squeeze of a hand would lessen the dread each time for the both of them, because they were reminded that neither of them were alone in what they had to do or how they were feeling.

Hardly anyone else seemed to be feeling this way, though—out of the students, anyway. Most weren't considering this a time that they should be worrying for their safety or even weighed down by dread—Ron Weasley was being treated like a celebrity. At meals for the next couple days, he appeared to be being constantly badgered by other students to tell them the whole story. Frankly, it was rather annoying to Vesperra. _Why does almost getting killed automatically make you famous? If I was nearly killed, the majority of the school wouldn't care at all, and then everyone who knows me would be upset that I _wasn't_ killed._

Longbottom was a laughing stock amongst the Slytherins, as it was common knowledge that he'd been given detention from McGonagall and even banned from Hogsmeade visits. And, on Tuesday morning, half the Slytherin table twisted in their seats to see Longbottom running out of the Great Hall, looking scared shitless and holding a red envelope—a Howler. The rest of the hall watched, but the Slytherins were the only ones that howled with laughter at the sight of it.

A booming voice that could only have belonged to Longbottom's grandmother came from the entrance hall—

"**YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN SO DAMN FORGETFUL, AND NOW IT'S NEARLY KILLED YOUR OWN FRIENDS! YOUR FATHER NEVER WOULD HAVE LET THAT HAPPEN, HE'D NEVER BE SUCH AN IDIOT THAT HE'D LEAVE PASSWORDS LYING AROUND, I'M SURPRISED YOU HAVEN'T BEEN EXPELLED LONG BEFORE THIS—**"

It went on, and afterwards, Longbottom didn't return to the Great Hall, most likely out of shame. Vesperra smirked, cruelly satisfied. At least he had been humiliated for being such an idiot….

Sirius Black's break-in seemed to be good for Malfoy, because whether or not they were at all shaken by it, the topic of Black was the high point of everyone's conversation. No one was talking about the Quidditch match anymore, and so it seemed that nearly everyone either forgot or stopped caring about Malfoy, Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle's screw-up that had put Slytherin under the running again. However, they all still found time to verbally abuse Vesperra.

Tuesday evening, Vesperra entered the common room to see a small crowd around the bulletin board. She automatically knew what it most likely was, but walked over to look at the new notice anyway. Craning her neck to look over the taller students' heads, she saw that there was another Hogsmeade visit this weekend.

At once, an idea was lodged in her head, and she hurried to her dorm without a second glance at anyone. The moment she threw open the door, Vesperra took the strap of her schoolbag off of her shoulders and opened it, taking out a small square of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle. She quickly wrote a note to Damien, which said:

_Damien,_

_I have another Hogsmeade visit this Saturday. Can you meet me in the Three Broomsticks at two? There's something I want to talk to you about. If you can come, don't write back. If you can't, or you'd prefer a different time, make sure the owl you send it with finds me when I'm not at breakfast or any other meals.  
__~Vesperra_

Stone-faced, she rolled up the note and sealed it, then immediately headed back out through the Common Room. Ignoring curious stares, she hurried through and up to the owlery.

"Take this to Damien in Knockturn Alley," she told a speckled white and gray owl—the first one she found—once she'd tied the letter to its leg. With a blink of its huge, round eyes that was equivalent to a nod, it took off into the night.

As she watched it become swallowed by the inky black sky, she took a deep breath and exhaled. This would hopefully put her to a waiting time of only four days until she interrogated Damien about being her cousin. It wasn't so much of a shock anymore that she couldn't decide what she felt about her and Damien being related so closely; if it weren't for the fact that he'd kept the fact from her, she wouldn't be angry at all. In fact, having family that shared your interests and who you actually _liked_ was sort of… nice.

Ten minutes later, Vesperra was in her dorm again. And, as she talked to Severus through her journal, she wondered about whether she would tell him that she had a cousin.

* * *

The following week had been heavy on Severus—though he had brought much of it upon himself. He didn't waste a single second in doing what he felt was necessary, and that was patrolling the corridors every night and tailing Lupin as often as he could. As for Longbottom, he now hated the boy more than ever before, and couldn't keep the spark of absolute loathing out of his eyes whenever he unintentionally glanced at him—not that he was trying to. It was too bad that he didn't have a Potions lesson with the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins that week, or he'd have reduced Longbottom to tears.

When he realized that there would be a Hogsmeade visit on Saturday, Severus felt nervous about letting Vesperra go. Black _must_ have been hiding out somewhere near Hogsmeade, and there was no telling what he might do…. But he reminded himself that Black was only after Potter, so it was extremely unlikely that she'd be in danger, and that Vesperra could go whether he wanted her to or not. He couldn't force her to stay behind.

Still, he couldn't shake his worry for her. Severus knew that Vesperra must have felt indignant at being treated like a small child when he told her not to stray from High Street, but he had a feeling she might have done so otherwise. He could not—_would_ not—lose her.

At least this time, her absence had its benefit. On Saturday morning after nearly every student third year and up had began leaving the castle, he took to patrolling, knowing that, without Vesperra here, there would be no real reason for him to make periodic returns to his office. Of course, he didn't plan on walking around all day, but at least he could do it more often and not feel bad about leaving Vesperra alone. Although, he'd have liked to have her stay in his office, if only for the reassuring words or the hand-squeezes that kept him calm.

Before everyone had even left the castle, however, Severus had already come upon a muffled sound a couple corridors over from where he was walking. As he walked closer to it, he recognized the voices, and couldn't decide whether to be satisfied or angry about this.

Gliding almost soundlessly along the third floor corridor, Severus saw Potter, who had his back to him, and Longbottom, who was talking.

"I don't understand that thing about the garlic at all—do they have to eat it, or—"

The round-faced boy stopped abruptly with a small gasp, having noticed Severus looming closer from behind Potter, who turned around. Coming to a halt, Severus glanced suspiciously between the two boys, both of whom he loathed, and both of whom being much of the reason he was patrolling the corridors in the first place.

"And what are you two doing here?" he said silkily, narrowing his eyes and staring down his hooked nose at them. His eyes flicked to the statue of a one-eyed witch behind them, which looked strangely familiar…. "An odd place to meet—"

"We're not—meeting here," said Potter. "We just—met here."

Severus didn't honestly think that they had purposely met here, but there was an easily definable air about Potter that told him the boy was not completely innocent. He was so obviously up to something, and Severus had the vaguest feeling that it had something to do with the statue.

"Indeed?" he said, letting his face show only slight skepticism. "You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely there for no good reason…. I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower, where you belong."

In that moment, Severus realized that the humped, one-eyed witch statue Potter was standing in front of was the very statue that he had seen the Marauders near so many times while spying on them. He had never actually seen them disappear behind it, but he had viable reasons to believe that it was some sort of passageway. This could _not_ be a coincidence….

Without another word or even a polite nod from either of them, Potter and Longbottom set off back to—presumably—Gryffindor Tower. This would make things easier for Severus, since the boy whose life he needed to protect would be safe in his Common Room, but the one-eyed witch posed enough interest for him now that he hardly registered the slight satisfaction or the likeliness of Potter disobeying him later.

_If this is a passageway, _thought Severus, stepping closer to the statue and running his right hand over the head, _then Potter would have been trying to leave the castle… but after Sirius Black had been feet away from killing him? Even Potter can't be that much of an idiot…. No—he can, he definitely can…._ As he ran his hand over the stone, he muttered revealing spells under his breath and attempted to discover the statue's properties—if it had any.

During his teenage years, his attempts to figure out the mystery of this statue had failed, but that had likely been because of his lack of knowledge on the proper spells to do this…. However, after several minutes of close examination, Severus hadn't figured out a thing. Having tried everything he knew, he was forced to leave the corridor, though he wasn't reassured. He knew there was _something_ about that statue…. But if_ he_ couldn't figure it out, how could Potter have done so?

Instead of continuing to patrol, Severus returned to his office, for he knew Potter was in his Common Room, and he had grading to do that he would finish before patrolling the halls again.

For the most part, Severus's day was rather uneventful if you didn't count walking fruitlessly through the corridors or grading essays and potion samples. At lunch, however, he noticed that Potter was not amongst the Gryffindors in the Great Hall. Though he had decided the boy simply must not have felt like eating when he hadn't shown up for lunch during the last Hogsmeade visit, he felt much more paranoid now. But, as he reminded himself for the thousandth time, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't go and check in the Gryffindor Common Room for Potter, nor could he search the entire castle for him.

His paranoia did not dissipate after lunch, and Severus kept to his promise to himself and patrolled. Only a little more than an hour later, when he was passing through a second floor corridor, he heard running footsteps growing louder and louder. Sirius Black or anyone else that was dangerous would have taken care to keep their footsteps quiet, so he wasn't worried at all, but merely curious as to whom it was.

Stopping and turning swiftly in the direction of the noise, Severus watched a large mass appear from around a corner, which he identified a second later as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, all looking thoroughly shaken and as though they had run all the way from Hogsmeade. _Hm. I didn't know Crabbe and Goyle could run._

"Professor Snape!" said Malfoy somewhat hysterically, sounding nothing like his usual self. He and his cronies stopped in front of him, straightening their hats and catching their breath.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Severus as he frowned down at them, confused and also a bit worried. "Why have you three returned from Hogsmeade so early?"

"Been—looking—for… a teacher…" said Malfoy, punctuating each word with a breath. He took a minute to calm his breathing, and then continued, "We were in Hogsmeade, sir, near the Shrieking Shack, and—and talking to Weasley… And suddenly a load of mud just hit me in the back of the head, but there was no one else there! And then—I saw Potter's head, with no body, just floating in midair…."

Severus's heart stopped, and his expression hardened. "_Potter's_ head?" he repeated quietly for confirmation. Malfoy nodded, still looking shaken, and much like a ferret in this state.

Deciding at once that this was no coincidence, he said to the group of boys, "I see. You three should get to your Common Room—I will handle this matter." With that, he strode past the boys and headed for the staircase that would take him to the floor just above. While his expression was unfathomable, his heartbeat grew quicker, though it felt as though it were separate from him.

_I knew this would happen, dammit, and I couldn't stop it…._ Severus was sure that the statue that Potter had been near earlier must have something to do with this—it must have been the entrance to a passageway after all, despite his own failed attempts to uncover it….

Walking quickly, his black robes billowing and swishing in an ominous manner that even he couldn't ignore, Severus finally returned to the corridor, and saw Potter directly in front of the statue as soon as he turned the corner. He ended his swift walk when he was only three feet in front of the boy, and, as angry as he was, couldn't help but feel a sort of triumph in finally having caught him at something he would, no doubt, be in monumental trouble for.

"So," said Severus shortly, quickly analyzing Potter and noticing how sweaty he was; he must have hurried down to the castle just as quickly as Malfoy. "Come with me, Potter."

The boy followed him down to the dungeons without a word, and into Severus's office. Being a teacher, and a Potions Master at that, he didn't often think about it, but he realized how threatening of an atmosphere this was on the receiving end, what with the wall behind his desk lined with shelves on which stood jars of preserved ingredients suspended in liquids of different colors. The firelight was dim, which was even better.

"Sit," he said, and Potter took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. Severus, however, remained standing, for this made him taller, and more intimidating—more frightening. More of an authority. Slowly, he said, "Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter. He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley—apparently alone." Severus was taking a pause between each sentence to see if Potter would argue, but the boy said nothing. "Mr. Malfoy states that he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head. How do you think that could have happened?"

"I don't know, Professor," said Potter, raising his eyebrows slightly as his head gave a tiny shake in an amateur attempt at appearing mildly surprised. It didn't fool Severus.

His black eyes glinted in the firelight, boring into Potter's strikingly green ones. In this situation, it was extremely difficult to ignore the fact that they were exactly the same color and shape as his mother's—and that just made him angrier. Lily had _died_ to protect her son, and he repaid her by risking his life and sneaking off to Hogsmeade?

"Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition," Severus continued. "Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

"No," said Potter, feigning innocent when it was so useless to do so.

"It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair."

Severus stared him down, waiting for a response with suppressed fury. He was still confused as to how Malfoy had only seen Potter's head—unless he had an Invisibility Cloak—but that didn't abate his anger.

After a long silence, Potter said, "Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey. If he's seeing things like—"

"What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" said Severus softly. His anger had risen, but he kept it to a cold fury. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body is allowed in Hogsmeade."

"I know that. It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin—"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," snarled Severus, unable to contain his anger. Bending down, he put a hand on each arm of Potter's chair, and glared at him, their faces now only a foot apart. "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in Gryffindor Tower," said Potter, so obviously trying his best not to appear intimidated, "like you told—"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

When Potter said nothing, Severus's lips curled into a nasty smile—though he wasn't completely sure why. It could have been for the satisfaction of knowing how harshly Potter would be punished… or he could have just been going mad after the boy had risked his life—and risked Severus's reason to live.

"So," he said, straightening up again and feeling the insanity creeping up on him. "Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences."

Everything Severus didn't say—how undeserving the boy was of a mother like Lily, who had sacrificed herself for him, and how _he_ might just have wasted the past three years protecting the boy if he had been killed while in Hogsmeade, he screamed in his mind. Severus could have been yelling at him, but Potter could still never possibly know the magnitude of his fury.

Potter stayed silent, seemingly unwilling to tell the truth and make things easier for the both of them. All he was doing, really, was setting himself up to be humiliated further….

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter," Severus said suddenly, his eyes glinting once more. His hatred for the boy in front of him, who had risked making it so his own mother had died in vain, extended towards the older Potter, who had taken Lily away from him before death had. It eased some of the anguish he was feeling to deride the boy as much as possible. "He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers… The resemblance between you is uncanny."

Part of Severus had hoped that these harsh words, which were the complete _truth_, would show Potter that his father wasn't the saint he must have thought him to be, but the boy retaliated immediately:

"My dad didn't _strut_. And neither do I."

"Your father didn't set much store by the rules either," snapped Severus, angered further, his face full of malice. What the hell did Potter know? He never knew his father, and he was talking to the man who had been bullied by James for years…. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen—"

"SHUT UP!"

Potter was suddenly on his feet, his face full of rage. Extremely shocked at the boy having both yelled at him and said something so disrespectful to a teacher, Severus did not say anything for a moment; but his face had gone rigid, and his black eyes flashed dangerously.

"_What did you say to me, Potter?_" said Severus in the most venomous tone possible, his voice trembling on the edge of explosion. But the boy did not look afraid or even back down in any sense.

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" yelled Potter persistently, his voice echoing slightly off the walls of the dungeon office. "I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for my dad!"

The blood leaving his already sallow face, Severus's mind reeled, fury mixed with shock forming a storm inside him. _He _knows_? Dumbledore _told_ him about that? …You bloody little tosser, you don't know the half of it!_ Despite his promise to Dumbledore about keeping him alive, he felt like throttling Potter at that moment. Severus had had absolutely no idea that anyone but the staff that had been at Hogwarts when he was a student and Vesperra knew about the event in which he had nearly died many years ago…. And Potter was the last person he wanted to know about it.

"And did the Headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?" said Severus in a deadly whisper, using extreme self-control to keep his expression and hands in check. "Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"

The boy said nothing, but merely bit his lip. Severus knew at once that he, indeed, did not know the finer details, and he felt an odd sense of triumph fill him again. _If he already knows,_ he thought, _he might as well know the whole story and have a chance to know the truth…._

"I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said evenly, letting his face become twisted with a terrible grin and once again thinking himself slightly mad. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you—your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

Hardly a second after his explanation, Severus decided that he was wasting time with this, and that childhood stories were over. It was time to get back to business, and he would allow Potter no more time to stall or think up a plan.

"Turn out your pockets, Potter!" he spat suddenly, baring his teeth and feeling as though he had literally been engulfed in flames of fury for a moment. But Potter didn't move or make any indication that he was going to. "Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the Headmaster! Pull them out, Potter!"

Clearly reluctantly, Potter slowly reached inside his pockets and pulled out a Zonko's bag full to bursting with tricks, and a folded-up piece of parchment. Severus smirked inwardly at the sight of the bag, as that was already clear proof of Potter having been in Hogsmeade, and picked it up.

"Ron gave them to me," said Potter, his face impassive. It wasn't even necessary to take a brief dip into the boy's mind with Legilimency to know that he was lying, but Severus didn't interrupt him yet. "He—brought them back from Hogsmeade last time—"

"Indeed? And you've been carrying them around ever since? How very touching… and what is this?"

Picking up the blank parchment, Severus scrutinized it.

"Spare bit of parchment," answered Potter with a shrug.

That being true was actually possible, as Severus had turned it over and saw that it was completely blank, but still not very likely. But he had a way to find out easily.

Locking eyes with Potter, he said silkily, "Surely you don't need such a very _old_ piece of parchment? Why don't I just—throw this away?" His hand moved toward the fire, and Potter's eyes grew wide within a couple seconds.

"No!" he said quickly, almost jumping in his seat and giving away just what Severus wanted.

"So! Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it—something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or—instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the dementors?" During his pause, Potter blinked, and Severus's eyes gleamed as he considered it confirmed that this would be the boy's downfall.

"Let me see, let me see," he murmured, pulling his wand out from his robes with one hand and smoothing out the parchment on his desk with the other. He touched his wand to the parchment and said, "Reveal your secret!"

But he felt not the slightest of quivers in his wand that would have been pure, spell-less magic flowing through it, and nothing happened to the parchment. Severus tapped it again, this time sharply, and decided upon a different choice of words: "Show yourself!" Once again, it remained blank, but he persisted.

"Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" he said, hitting the parchment with his wand.

And then, words appeared on the surface of the parchment as though an invisible hand were writing upon it, much like his and Vesperra's journals:

"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

After reading that, Severus froze, horrible realization dawning upon him. It was so much more than the fact that the parchment had insulted him; he distinctly remembered the name 'Moony'—it had been Lupin's nickname given by the other three Marauders as a teenager. Having spied on those four gits so often, Severus had heard them call each other by their nicknames for much of the time…. Then there was more writing on the parchment, and it appeared in the same way.

"_Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."_

"**Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."**

"_**Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."**_

It was almost like being a teenager again, feeling this sort of resentment at being insulted. Potter and Pettigrew were still taunting him, from beyond the grave… and Black from his cell in Azkaban, and Lupin from just upstairs. But that resentment was overwhelmed by his other realization concerning what this actually _was_—which he had known only seconds after seeing the first sentence.

This was the Marauder's Map. Severus knew, from his sneaking around at Hogwarts and following Potter and his friends, that they had always had what looked like a huge map with them. He, of course, had never seen it up close, but he had heard the words "Marauder's Map" thrown around between them when they had been talking about sneaking out at night.

Another thought came to him at once—as they had been coming this afternoon, in rapid fire. The only feasible way for Potter to have gotten the Marauder's Map was from the only Marauder at Hogwarts, who, Severus suspected, was still friends with Sirius Black and wanted the boy dead. It was suddenly very likely that he had given Potter the map in hopes that Black would meet him somewhere in Hogsmeade.

"So…," said Severus softly, narrowing his eyes. "We'll see about this…."

Thinking that he would finally be able to hold viable proof against the man and even make Dumbledore believe it, Severus strode across the room to the fireplace, angrily seized a fistful of Floo powder from the mantle, threw it into the flames, and called into them, "Lupin! I want a word!"

Seconds later, a large shape was revolving in the fire, and quickly became Lupin, who clambered out of the fireplace and brushed dust off of his robes. "You called, Severus?" His mild voice made a stark contrast with the air of fury that was so very thick in Severus's office.

"I certainly did," he said, his face having twisted into an expression that showed just how angry he truly was, though it could not reveal every single one of his reasons—even _he_ didn't know all the reasons. Severus strode back to his desk and pointed to the Marauder's Map. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Lupin stared at the map, his scarred face taking on a closed expression as he evidently read the words that had appeared, but did not say anything.

"Well?" said Severus, knowing for a fact that Lupin recognized the map, and, though he was sure the werewolf wasn't going to tell the truth, wanting a full confession. Still, however, Lupin said nothing, and simply stared at the map. Several years of using Legilimency made it fairly easy for Severus to realize from just the other man's expression that he was doing some quick thinking.

"_Well?_" he repeated, his voice becoming slightly madder and more nasal. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

Looking up, Lupin gave Potter a half-glance, and then moved his casual, almost smiling gaze to Severus.

"Full of Dark Magic? Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a book shop—"

"Indeed?" Severus's jaw had gone rigid in anger. Had Potter not been here, he would have backed the werewolf against the wall and demanded an explanation, but he couldn't let the boy know that he knew about the map; Potter most likely didn't know that Lupin had helped create it, and he definitely wasn't aware of Lupin having ill intentions. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers_?"

"You mean," said Lupin calmly, looking completely unfazed by Severus's fury though he knew exactly what he had meant, "by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people? Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," said Potter quickly.

Lupin raised his eyebrows very slightly and turned back to Severus. "You see, Severus? It looks like a Zonko product to me—"

The Potions Master might have exploded with anger at that point if his office door hadn't burst open as though on cue, Ron Weasley running inside. Looking as though he had run all the way from Hogsmeade, like Malfoy had, he stopped at the desk and clutched at a stitch in his chest.

"I—gave—Harry—that—stuff," he choked. "Bought—it… in Zonko's… ages—ago…"

His thin face stuck in the expression it had been less than a minute ago, Severus glanced quickly from Lupin to Weasley to Potter, furious beyond belief and at the same time confused—how the _hell_ had Weasley known to come to his office and cover for his friend about the Zonko's products? And—madness overtook him—_No, no, I'm not letting this happen, he's _not_ getting off on a technicality—_

"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" Without waiting for a response, he folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. Severus didn't have enough time or sanity left to protest, for the werewolf continued, "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay—excuse us, Severus—"

But he didn't make any sound or movement that would have indicated that they were excused before the three of them turned their backs on him immediately and walked out of his office. All Severus could do was stay standing where he was, his insides being painfully torn apart by the failure of both punishing Potter and officially incriminating Lupin, and by the fact that he was completely _stuck_, unable to do a thing about Potter's safety for the time being.

Unable to fathom all that had just happened, Severus stood and glared furiously at his door, hunching slightly more over his desk with each passing second. Finally, the entirety of his anger was upon him, and he could not keep himself from whipping his arm back to grab a random jar from a shelf behind his desk and hurling it across the room.

Before it had the chance to hit the door and shatter, Severus had sunk, shaking, into his chair, and held his head in his hands, clutching hard at the sides and practically pulling out his hair.

* * *

**...Well? I'm sure that all the Damerra shippers are probably extremely grossed out and really mad at me... And to be honest, I find it amusing. I planned this from the beginning, and always thought it was hilarious when people said that Damien and Vesperra would be an awesome couple. Well, they're cousins.**

**Also, aren't you glad we finally got to see her Patronus? Even though we were all sure as to what it was going to be, it was still fun to write and hopefully exciting to read. **

**As for the Marauder's Map scene, I have been waiting forever to write this. So many emotions... poor Severus. :(**

**Anyway, PLEASE review! I want to hear how shocked you guys are! ^_^**


	44. Book 3: Chapter 16

**Get ready for for another pivotal chapter, guys! Only one more week to go before Prisoner of Azkaban is finished!**

* * *

The walk along the path from Hogwarts castle to Hogsmeade didn't seem as long as usual without snow on the ground and while Vesperra had something completely dictating her train of thought. With the weather only mildly cold and breezy, there was nothing distracting her from the deep thought she was in except for the fact that this would have been a nice day to spend with Severus in the clearing by the lake. But she pushed that thought away, since she knew that they wouldn't have been able to spend any time there even if there wasn't a Hogsmeade visit today—Severus would be too busy patrolling and making sure Lupin didn't get up to anything.

A drawling voice brought her briefly out of her thoughts of Damien—and, from just the moment before, Severus, and she was suddenly filled with dread until she realized that it wasn't addressing her. Vesperra lifted her head at angle and saw Malfoy walking nearby through her peripheral vision, talking to Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, and using a lot of hand gestures.

"—father wrote to me about it a couple days ago…. There's no way that buffoon'll manage to appeal to them, HA! My father's got the committee in his pocket, they'll do whatever he says…."

Vesperra knew that Malfoy was talking about Hagrid and the man's case with the hippogriff that had attacked him several months ago. She found herself hoping that Buckbeak would end up getting out of the execution if only to see Malfoy extremely pissed off and frustrated. Otherwise, she didn't care much for the creature's life or Hagrid's happiness. But still, she loathed the fact that Malfoy got what he deserved for provoking Buckbeak and yet was still able to complain to his dad and have something done about it.

Her frustration didn't last very long, however, and was replaced with returning thoughts of what she would say to Damien when she met him in the Three Broomsticks later. She had already planned out and memorized several different scenarios in her head, but she continued to go over them while walking. It kept her mind off of the beginnings of ache in her legs, and she almost didn't notice the two dementors floating high above her when she was passing through the Hogwarts gates.

When she walked under them, the usual sense of a cold hand clutching her heart swept through her, but not nearly as powerfully as it used to, now that she had learned to cast a corporeal Patronus. Those weeks of practice had given her more intense concentration, and she was able to resist it much more easily. As she strolled further down the path and away from the horrible creatures, she briefly wondered whether she would be able to control her Patronus against an actual dementor, even though she had never done so before. She also wondered whether, if Malfoy or any of the others were to see her Patronus, they would understand what it meant. Surely _they_ would never have thought of Severus as a jaguar, since he was only their teacher….

It wasn't too long before she made it to Hogsmeade, crossing over from the dirt path to the flat stone of High Street. Those around her were already excitedly talking to their friends and trying to decide which shops to visit first. Damien had not written back, so she would still be meeting him around two—unless he had never gotten her letter in the first place. But that wasn't really likely.

So, Vesperra had over three hours to kill before meeting Damien in the Three Broomsticks. As she set off up High Street, an odd sense of casualness settled in her. She hadn't expected to not feel anxious or desperately impatient, and part of her didn't want to. Having just found out that Damien was her cousin about a week ago, she figured she should still have had her mind reeling with the shock and confusion, and it felt strange to be calm like this. But Vesperra supposed that it wasn't an extremely difficult fact to accept, and now there was nothing left but slightly uncomfortable impatience and the three hours in which she would wait.

During those three hours, Vesperra heeded Severus's words and didn't stray outside of High Street and the few side streets of shops, though she really didn't think Sirius Black would be out in the open when the weather and visibility was clear. Her money bag had depleted quite a bit since her first visit, so the only things she bought were the usual sweets from Honeydukes—Chocolate Cauldrons and Blood Pops.

Honeydukes was one of the few shops that was just as full as usual, along with Zonko's; people were sparse in most of the other shops, as most were enjoying the nice day and spending a lot of their time outside. If Vesperra had actually taken interest in more than a few of the places in Hogsmeade, she would have taken advantage of the shops not being full.

At least an hour was spent in Tomes and Scrolls, where Vesperra flipped through books with no intention to purchase them—though she would have bought a few of them if she had the money. Several times she began wondering, again, who had sent her _Verifying Veridian, Philosophy of Prince_, and also whether or not it had actually come from the bookshop she was currently in. Severus had told her only a few days ago that he had finished reading it, and he had given it back to her in his insistence that he was only borrowing it.

This time, she saw Granger in there, alone and perusing the shelves. As little as Vesperra cared about the affairs of the damned famous trio, she couldn't help but wonder why the ginger wasn't with her.

The hours ticked by a bit too slowly, and Vesperra found herself reverting back to extreme impatience when the last half-hour was upon her and the clock in Tomes and Scrolls seemed to have stopped. She alternated between looking through a page of the book she was holding, glancing at the clock, and wondering how the hell the minute hand hardly seemed to have moved.

Vesperra left the bookshop in favor of the Three Broomsticks when it was ten minutes before two, though knowing that it definitely wouldn't take ten minutes to get there. Rather than entering immediately, she waited outside, leaning against the edge of the front of the building, where there wasn't glass. The last time she had met Damien, she had been waiting a minute or so before he had shown up, so she assumed that he would Apparate in front of the pub the exact time she had asked him to meet.

And, after about seven minutes, there was a pop, and Damien was suddenly standing where there had been nothing just before. He looked the same as he had during the summer—before their first meeting at the Three Broomsticks, now looking much less gruff than his father. She guessed that he had no longer been neglecting his personal hygiene since poisoning Jude Adler, as his hair was once again very smoothly brushed and parted. He hadn't lost the goatee, however—but it looked cleaner than it had before. The smug air about him was even stronger than she remembered, as though he was wearing liberal amounts of Eau de Arrogance. She guessed that it was because of the poisoning having been successful.

Damien straightened his coat and started toward the pub, but then glanced to the side and noticed Vesperra, stopping in his tracks. Unfolding her arms and lifting her head off the outside wall of the building, she stood up straight and approached him. Without saying anything, she raised her eyebrows quickly and briefly as though to say, "Well, come on," and pushed open the door.

"You could have been spending your time saving a seat for us instead of waiting outside," said Damien as he followed her.

"I could have, but it would have been harder for you to find me in there than just waiting outside." Vesperra hastened to find a place for them to sit, and Damien ended up pointed out an empty booth next to the wall on their right. Neither of them sat down, however.

"I'll get the drinks," said Vesperra before Damien could do more than open his mouth. Though she definitely had a lot less money than him, _she_ had been the one to invite _him_, and she had enough pride to uphold certain acts of common courtesy—especially to her own cousin. "What do you want?"

He hesitated, but did sit down and slide further into the booth after a second. "Just butterbeer, thanks."

At that, she strode away to the bar, and waited for Madam Rosmerta to transfer her attention from two seventh year boys to her. Up close, Vesperra could see that the woman had a kind face—though her smile faltered slightly as most people's did when they saw Vesperra. She was just the kind of person that it was hard to be friendly to, even if being friendly to people was part of your job.

"What'll it be, dearie?" said Rosmerta, putting a hand with heavily polished nails on the bar.

"Two warm butterbeers, please," Vesperra replied dully, reaching in her pocket for a few sickles. After the landlady had given her the foaming tankards and taken her money, she returned to the booth. Damien smiled slightly when she sat down and slid his butterbeer over, taking a sip right away.

Before taking a sip of hers, Vesperra pulled her wand out from her sleeve and cast _Muffliato _around them, at the same time looking around for anyone she knew who would really like to get some incriminating evidence against her. There were no flashes of white-blond hair in her line of sight, which relieved her greatly, although she did recognize Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil from Gryffindor at a nearby table. She didn't think they would care about her, though.

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" asked Damien, licking the foam off his upper lip. "Is it about the poison? Is something wrong?"

Setting down her butterbeer, Vesperra drummed her fingers on the table, purposely looking to her upper right to feign the look of trying to remember something. "Where to begin, where to begin… Hm… Well," she said, straightening herself and looking Damien straight in the eyes, "I'd like to know why you didn't tell me that we were cousins."

The man across from her reacted much like she thought he would; he froze, his eyes widening slightly in shock, and his jaw and shoulders seized up. Damien had been taking a gulp of butterbeer at that exact second and slopped a little down his front, choking on all that had already been inside his mouth. Vesperra was surprised he hadn't dropped the tankard altogether, and admittedly found it a bit amusing when Damien quickly set his tankard down and coughed a few times to get the butterbeer out of his lungs.

Massaging his throat, Damien took deep breaths and small coughs, clearly trying to think of what to say. Vesperra waited patiently, though with raised eyebrows and a cold look in her eyes, for him to even his breathing and speak. He furrowed his brow, the edges of his lips twitching downward and his hazel eyes locking with hers.

He opened his mouth, but it was a few seconds before any sound came out. "How did you find out?" he nearly whispered.

Instead of answering immediately, Vesperra reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. It was a cut-out from the _Daily Prophet_—from the article that had led her to wanting to meet with Damien in the first place. As she unfolded it and slid it over to him, she was reminded yet again of the day that she had discovered what it meant to be a Lestrange and gotten angry at Severus for never having told her; watching Damien pick it up and read it, she saw his initially confused expression turn to grim understanding and, to a point, dread.

"Did you really think I wasn't going to read anything in the _Daily Prophet_ about it?" said Vesperra with a bit of a sneer as Damien looked up at her. "All I had to do was look for the report about someone being mysteriously poisoned. You told me the entire story without elaborating on names, and it was enough that I could deduce from that bit of an article exactly what you were trying to keep from me…. You would have been better off not telling me anything at all."

"You would never have agreed if I didn't tell you _anything_!" argued Damien.

"You're right, I wouldn't have. But that and the fact that it was pretty stupid to overlook the possibility that I would find out isn't what I wanted to talk about. You knew the _entire_ time that we were cousins, and yet you never thought it important to mention. Why?"

Cold anger was evident in her voice, though not near as much as there had been when she had interrogated Severus about the Lestranges a year ago. Absentmindedly, she reached for her tankard and sipped her butterbeer, narrowing her eyes at Damien over the rim of it.

Sighing, Damien cracked under her glare and shifted in his seat like a guilty child. "Well, I didn't know the _entire _time," he said, first looking down at the table and then gaining some courage and returning his gaze to her. "When I met you, I saw your ring and automatically knew that you were a Lestrange…. And then, after you left, I asked my father whether or not my mother ever had that ring, and—well, he got a little upset after being asked to remember it, but he told me that my mum had had the family ring stolen from her by her sister before she and my father met. That's how I knew that you were my cousin and not my sister."

He paused and looked away for a moment, looking guiltily out the window. Frowning at him, as she didn't find his being technical amusing, Vesperra took a drink of her butterbeer. She was also struck with the thought that Damien was the rightful owner of her ring, but decided not to mention that and hoped that he wouldn't bring it up.

"But my father refused to tell me anything else, so I had no way of knowing your mother's name, or whether or not you even knew the details of the relationship between your mother and mine—_I_ didn't even know _all_ the details," he continued, now in a firmer voice as he tried to explain. "I knew there was no way of you knowing I was your cousin, since I doubt my mother told anyone that she had a son with another man before marrying, and because I look nothing like you. But I didn't know if you would side with your mother and hate mine—and thus hate _me_. You're the only family I have—besides my father—that I've actually been able to talk to…. I wanted nothing less than for you to hate me, so was afraid to tell you," he finished, sighing and leaning against the back of his seat.

Vesperra was silent for a moment, taking in his explanation and trying to decide whether or not she should forgive him. Of course, she had asked him to come here merely so she could hear his reason for not having told her, _not_ to hear a reason about why she should forgive him. It didn't take much thinking to realize that Damien's worries that had kept him from telling her earlier were perfectly rational, and that she would have done the same thing if in his place.

And she supposed that the reason she was nowhere close to the level of anger she had felt with Severus so long ago was that she was extremely close to Severus, and therefore had felt betrayed back then. But Vesperra had only spoken to Damien three times before, not including the letters over owl-post, and she already hadn't trusted him completely.

Finally, she said, "Well, you're lucky that I _don't_ hate your mum, and that I only found out that my mother even _had_ a sister two years ago, when I got the ring. But considering the fact that I never knew her or her late husband, I can't say that I like her, either, and I don't really care that I brewed a poison for my own uncle. You were probably worried about that as well, weren't you?"

Damien, who had evidently expected a worse reaction, raised his eyebrows and had not a single trace of guilt on his face anymore. "I was… but I suppose I don't need to be anymore," he said slowly. "So… you're _not_ angry at me, then?"

"I'm still a little annoyed at you, but I'm generally annoyed at everybody. We're… good, I guess. I'm still trying to get over the fact that I have a cousin. How is it even possible? Your mother couldn't have been that much older than mine, but I'm at least seven years younger than you."

Apparently relieved at Vesperra's lack of anger, Damien took a swig of his butterbeer, and smacked his lips, thinking. "Well, I was born when my mother was just out of Hogwarts, so I'm guessing that yours waited several years before having a child."

"Makes sense… So, how far have you gotten as far as the rest of your plan goes? Does your father know that Jude's dead?"

At that, Damien smirked into his butterbeer, which he had been sipping as she had asked the question. "Yes, he does—he saw it in the _Daily Prophet_, and he was extremely happy about it. He obviously doesn't know that I had anything to do with it, so I'm not in any trouble. As for somehow reuniting my mother and father… Well, I'm still working on that. And I suppose I haven't properly thanked you for helping me yet, so… thank you."

After all the stress Vesperra had gone through to brew that poison and antidote, she really didn't think that a simple "thank you" was enough, but she didn't mention that.

"No problem," she said in a would-be casual tone. "Just don't ask me to do it again."

Damien chuckled, and then said, "I won't. We're even now, anyway. And I really didn't want to ask something like that of my own cousin in the first place, but you were my only option."

"I know, don't worry about it…. What's done is done." Those words reminded her almost instantly of another situation in which she had said them, and she remembered something else she wanted to ask him: "Hey—a book was sent to me on Christmas, but there was no note or card with it…. Was that from you?"

He arched an eyebrow. "No, it wasn't. I wouldn't have sent you something anonymously…. Did you check to see if it was cursed?"

"I've had it since Christmas and nothing's happened, so what does that tell you?"

"It sounds like you have an admirer, then."

Vesperra snorted at the idea, but didn't elaborate on her doubts that anyone could ever have a crush on her. Damien gave her an odd look, but thankfully didn't argue with what she felt like saying.

For another ten minutes or so, they continued to talk, catching up on things and soon draining their tankards of butterbeer.

"I hope you know that this really doesn't change our relationship at all," said Vesperra when they had both decided that they should leave. "It's not as though I'm going to start telling you any of my secrets or even go so far as hugging you now that I know you're my cousin."

Damien gave her an amused smirk. "I wouldn't have expected you to."

* * *

The feelings of failure, anger, and unbearable frustration had continued to eat him away as he sat at his desk, trembling with bottled fury and the desire to throw something else. Severus simply could not come to terms with the fact that Lupin had bested him, made sure that he was unable to prove anything, gotten Potter and himself off the hook…

But Lupin was certainly _not_ off the hook, and Severus planned to make sure of that. The werewolf had only made himself appear innocent in Potter's eyes, while he and Severus both knew the truth.

Dinner was to start not very long after Lupin had left his office, so the Potions Master soon forced himself to stand up and restore the jar he had broken—there was no returning the vulture eyes to their perfectly preserved state, though. He took a Calming Draught to lower his still rising blood pressure and relieve his headache, and paced around his office, stone-faced, for half an hour until it was only a short time from dinner.

Thoughts of Vesperra only reached him vaguely on the way to the staffroom, as his mind was still clouded with hatred. As he walked, his robes billowed out behind him, perfectly illustrating how he felt. Severus could consciously feel every whip of the hem of his robes as an individual movement, and had the sense of literally being able to explode if he was provoked enough. And, considering how furious he truly was, it wouldn't take much to provoke him.

The staffroom wasn't yet full of teachers, and Lupin was absent. Severus had expected it, and chose a spot next to the wall to wait at, folding his arms, for the man. No one attempted to speak to him, as usual, but the rest of the staff that was in there or whoever entered during that time seemed even more wary of him.

About five minutes later, Lupin entered in his shabby robes, smiling vaguely as he always was. His eyes met Severus's for the briefest of seconds, and, as though he knew what was coming, the man avoided his gaze and began talking to Professor McGonagall. Scowling inwardly, Severus tightened his grip on his arms and continued to wait.

As the Great Hall on the other side of the wall gradually became louder and fuller with people, those in the staffroom exited to enjoy dinner with everyone else. Thinking that Lupin would try to escape with the rest of the staff, Severus was ready to step forward and stop the werewolf, forcibly turning him around, but Lupin did nothing of the sort.

_Of course,_ sneered Severus in a thought. _No _Gryffindor_ would back out from a confrontation, would he? _Except Lupin had never been the one in school to confront people about anything, despite the fact that he had been a prefect. He had always sat and watched while his friends bullied countless other students, including the boy that was now the furious man across the room from him.

When there was no one else left in the room, Severus stepped away from the wall, and Lupin, who had been pretending to skim an issue of the Daily Prophet that had been left on the arm of a chair, stood straighter and cocked his head, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Don't even try to lie, Lupin," he growled, stepping closer to him and forcing him to back up against the wall. "You and I both know what that map is, and I _know_ you gave it to Potter. Trying to get him into Hogsmeade, are you? Trying to get him out in the open, closer to Sirius Black?"

Lupin gave a small huff, but returned Severus's glare with an expression of complete patience, as though he was trying to explain something complicated to a small child.

"I did _not_ give the map to Harry, Severus, and I'm most certainly not trying to kill him. Really, being a former spy, you'd have found something already if I _was_ after Harry's life. I want Sirius Black to be caught just as—"

A horrible, mad smile twisted Severus's face. "How did he get it, then? Oh, surely you didn't _give_ it to him, but it was lying around in your office, and he happened to find it, or—"

"I didn't even have it, Severus," interrupted Lupin, his voice only raised an octave or two above normal. "The last time I had it was during our sixth year, when Filch confiscated it. As far as I knew, it had been in his office ever since."

Severus could only see two options in front of him as to how to finish this confrontation now: it was either walk away, fuming, and choose not to believe the werewolf, or use Legilimency and save himself a lot of trouble. If Lupin was covering up a lie, it was a very serious lie, and knowing the truth for sure would make a huge difference. So he chose the second option.

In a matter of no longer than three seconds, Severus had locked eyes with Lupin, allowed himself to be swallowed by the man's pupils, and delved straight into his mind. Those few seconds granted him access to any memories pertaining to the map, and, to his surprise and frustration, he found that he had not, actually, given Potter the map. When he released Lupin's mind and was standing in reality once more, the man in front of him did not appear to have realized what had happened, and most likely believed that Severus was merely scrutinizing him.

Sure that probing Lupin's mind for much longer would give himself away, Severus scowled and turned towards the door to the Great Hall with nothing more to say. He did not feel like eating at all at this point, but not showing up to dinner would be suspicious, and Vesperra would likely notice and be worried.

It was largely by coincidence that Lupin was not at fault, he was sure. As angry as he still was at the werewolf for covering up for the boy, he now knew Potter was entirely the one to blame._ Potter_ must have stolen the map from Filch's office, and _Potter_ was the one that had risked his life without goading from anyone else.

Severus was so fraught with rage that he couldn't imagine ever feeling anything else ever again, and he almost forgot everything but the reason for his anger. But there was also the pure frustration from the fact that the Marauder's Map had been yet another red herring—this time completely unintentional. What were the _bloody_ chances that Potter would get a hold of the map that his father and his damn friends had created and used in their years at Hogwarts, a map that would lead him out of the castle? Of course, countless things had been happening against their probability lately… but at this sort of coincidence, Severus couldn't help but be angry at the forces of the Universe themselves. They were purposely making things more difficult for him just to piss him off, he knew it.

He didn't think it necessary to tell Dumbledore about this, though. With the map now out of Potter's hands, he had no proof against Lupin to explain to the Headmaster. And even if Severus simply told him about the situation, all he would be likely to get as a reply would be a stern, "I happen to trust Remus, Severus, and I will not stand for it if you continue to blame him for everything and even go to the lengths to spy on him." The old man had never been very helpful in the past, so why would he start now?

During dinner, Severus didn't glance up from his plate at all, and merely ate with a contempt scowl etched upon his face. And yet, he was aware of the fact that Vesperra had noticed the umbrage radiating off of him and that she was bound to open her journal and ask questions before he had the chance to write to her.

* * *

After dinner that evening, Severus relayed the entire story to Vesperra over the journals, and it was, once again, enough to drive Damien from her mind. Since they could always hear the other's voice when a message appeared as though being written by an invisible hand, she could tell just how angry he was by the tone in his voice when she read them.

But of course, he left out everything about his duty to protect Potter. He simply told her the facts of what happened, both in his office in the afternoon and the confrontation with Lupin in the staffroom—and it was enough that she became comparably angry as well, so much that there almost wasn't any room left in her to feel sorry for him.

They did spend much of Sunday together, but it was another day of mutual frustration at what was going on around them. Stiff and in rather cold moods, Vesperra and Severus just couldn't help but mentally separating themselves from reality when they were so angry; but they did find a sort of solace in knowing that they weren't really feeling all this alone.

"None of this makes any sense," said Vesperra bitterly after they'd gone over their theories uselessly for the umpteenth time. "All this stuff about the Marauder's Map is completely extraneous, but for some reason we keep coming back to it…. We're just going in circles, and it feels like we aren't going to make it to any conclusion until Sirius Black's broken into the castle a third time."

Severus wanted to say that he'd be prepared when and if the third time came, but that would have been a lie. There was no telling when or how it would happen, or what the outcome would be. Instead, he intertwined his fingers tighter with hers, and let out a small noise of frustration from the back of his throat. He could feel Vesperra become slightly less stiff at that.

"It's your first year all over again, I know," he muttered, just loud enough that Vesperra could hear. "But it's still only February, and something significant may very well happen between now and exams."

Leaning closer against him in an attempt to sink further into the absence of feeling altogether, Vesperra exhaled deeply. "And of course, we'll just be waiting, slowly losing our minds until something _does_ happen…. I suppose I didn't really expect this year to be easy, anyway."

* * *

The end of the weekend, as always, marked the end of the ability to relax, which was both a good and bad thing. For Vesperra, schoolwork added to her stress, but it also kept her focused on things other than Potter, Lupin and Sirius Black.

Sometimes, however, they overlapped. Whenever she saw Potter in the corridors or had to be around him for forty-five minutes at a time in Potions or Care of Magical Creatures, she felt a rush of hatred towards him to match what she felt towards Malfoy on a daily basis. It was mainly for the fact that he had snuck into Hogsmeade and not been caught for it. Severus had told her to keep that to herself (as if she even had anyone to talk to), because then other teachers would get involved, which would turn things into a mess for him—and though she understood and respected his reasons, it incensed her even more that no one would know, and Potter had completely gotten away with it.

There was now an even tenser air between her and Lupin that Vesperra was so sure even others could feel during Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. She loathed Lupin worse than ever now, and she was sure that he knew that. The man knew that she and Severus were close, so he must have known that Severus would have told her everything.

For the next several weeks, as they progressed through larger, more dangerous creatures like ghouls and hellhounds in Defense lessons, Vesperra paid no less attention to the information being taught, but she spent much of her time glaring at Lupin, who seemed to be avoiding her eye. Occasionally, he gave her what she thought might have been a sad look as she passed him on her way out of the classroom. She almost expected him to pull her aside and try to talk to her about Severus, but even _he_ didn't have such audacity.

Meanwhile, the rest of her classes were fairly normal, as was her time spent outside of class, whether it be in the library, in Severus's office, in the Great Hall, or in her dorm. Malfoy continued to be a horrible little berk, especially about Hagrid and his hippogriff; it irked Vesperra quite a bit that Buckbeak was, indeed, scheduled to be executed.

During Potions lessons, Vesperra noticed that Severus was bullying Potter even worse than usual, and it was obviously an indirect punishment for having snuck out of the castle to go to Hogsmeade. She was glad that Potter was at least getting somewhat of a punishment, and got a sadistic satisfaction from seeing him thoroughly pissed off because of Severus but not being able to do anything about it without landing himself straight into an actual detention.

Vesperra's time alone with Severus was limited, but in the time that she spent with him on weekends and spoke to him during the evenings or after class, she could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the way he spoke that he was much more stressed than her. It almost made her wish that she was under more stress so she wouldn't feel bad for having an easier time than him. His eyes were colder and emptier than they normally were, even when he was looking at her—but Vesperra could also tell that he was trying his best to not appear so angry when he had the chance to spend time with her.

For a decent portion of the time that she spent sitting on the couch in his office with him or talking to him through the journals, she continued to think about telling him about Damien. Severus was the person closest to her, and for him not to know that she had a cousin seemed just… a bit weird. The problem was, she couldn't think of a way to tell him without mentioning having first met Damien in Knockturn Alley or having brewed a poison for him. And so, like all of the rest of her secrets, she buried it deep within herself and resentfully resigned to the fact that the day she revealed it to Severus would either be never or very, very long from now.

The weeks of February and March dragged by, returning the grounds to warmth and only the light slosh of damp grass in the mornings. While the lack of anything suspicious happening seemed to put the rest of the school in a sense of security, it deeply worried Severus and Vesperra. It was the waiting that was driving them insane—not that they hadn't already felt like they were going mad.

The warm weather was ideal for some time with Severus out in the clearing, but Vesperra pushed away such childish desires whenever they appeared in her mind, and had already accepted that they would most likely not be spending any time there this year.

Soon, the Easter holidays were approaching, which made a lot of people relieved to be able to look forward to a break. Vesperra hardly found this a reason to relax, though.

In the middle of the week just before the Easter holidays, the Slytherin third years had a Charms lesson directly after lunch, and Vesperra didn't have any particular feelings towards it until she heard what that day's lesson would be.

The class was arranged with two or three to each table, which were large and spread out—except for Vesperra, who sat alone, as she did in every class save for Ancient Runes, hunched slightly over the table and holding the side of her face in her hand. Professor Flitwick stepped up onto his stack of books so that he could appear taller than the rest of the class and therefore as more of an authority, and cleared his throat squeakily.

"As it's your last Charms lesson before the end of term, I thought we shouldn't stray too far from the sort of things we've been doing. So we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today! It'll definitely be an enjoyable lesson just after the start of spring…."

Vesperra's head snapped up and her jaw stiffened at the words "Cheering Charms." She had only skimmed over that part of the eighth chapter of her Charms textbook, and hadn't bothered to even try to learn them beforehand. This was about the least enjoyable thing Flitwick could have had them learn, and everyone else seemed to know it as well—most of the other heads in the classroom had turned to her after a second or so.

Simply using the words 'Vesperra' and 'cheer' in the same sentence would cause the Universe to implode, so it was obvious that her fellow Slytherins, as non-cheerful as a lot of them were for much of the time, were both nervous and anxious to see her use a Cheering Charm.

"Now, before I explain, I want you all to divide into pairs… go on, now!"

For a moment, most of the other Slytherins seemed torn between choosing Vesperra as their partner simply so they could humiliate her and choosing their best friend. However, that moment's hesitation was quickly lost.

Knowing her only chances to avoid humiliation were to have Nott, Crabbe, or Goyle (since they were so inept at magic that they would fail) as her partner, Vesperra glanced automatically at Nott, who she was sure would spare her. But he hadn't moved from his seat at all, and it was clear that he was already paired up with Blaise. Almost everyone else had found a partner within five seconds, leaving only her and Millicent.

The heavy-jawed girl looked reluctant as she approached her table and took the empty seat; Vesperra frowned. It was only for the fact that she was lucky enough not to be stuck with Malfoy or Pansy that she didn't scowl instead.

"Now," squeaked Flitwick, "as it states directly in _The Standard Book of Charms, Grade 3_, Cheering Charms are designed to make the target happy and content. They ease the worries and the stress of the target's mind, and bring forth happier memories. However, if one uses them too strongly, their target can be left too happy, and with extended bouts of uncontrollable laughter. Now, I want everybody up and ready—yes, that's good—The incantation is '_Laetius Contente_,' everybody repeat after me—"

The following group-repeat was dull and not everyone even said it, but Flitwick didn't seem disappointed; he really couldn't expect anything different from the Slytherins. He then showed them the wand movement, which was a sort of wave-flick hybrid, and told them to begin practicing them on each other.

"It _is_ possible to use on oneself," said Flitwick loudly as he hopped down from his stack of books and the students prepared to practice, "but I think it would be safer to try on others first."

Vesperra raised her wand, but hesitated to do anything. She did not want to do this at all, and wasn't even sure if she could…. To her, it seemed that Cheering Charms could be a jinx if used with ill intentions. And it would be a jinx purely for one's entertainment rather than to hinder or mildly harm the target. From across the room, several of the other Slytherins looked her way and smirked wickedly, as they could easily tell how much she'd prefer to leave the classroom or even get detention than to participate in this lesson despite the fact that she wasn't letting it show on her face.

It wasn't that she didn't want to be happy or feel any contentment instead of being so filled with dread and stress that it was eating her, but she didn't want to be happy in front of the others, especially not Malfoy. That would just be too uncharacteristic for her, and too humiliating. She did _not_ want to smile in front of anyone but Severus; it just didn't feel right. And she was admittedly afraid of Millicent going too far and making the charm too strong.

"I'm going first," said Vesperra in almost a growl of a voice as she took a firm stance across from Millicent. The other girl muttered a low "Fine," and lowered her arms.

Waving her wand in an accurate imitation of Flitwick's, she pointed it at Millicent and said, in a semi-confident voice, "_Laetius Contente._" However, being the completely unhappy person she was, she had felt unsure as to whether or not she would even be able to perform the spell, and so it didn't seem to have any effect on Millicent.

"Nothing," grunted Bulstrode after a couple seconds. She then raised her own wand, and did the same….

For the rest of the hour, they took turns practicing the spell on each other just as all the other pairs did. Professor Flitwick scuttled through the classroom and in between pairs to correct people on the way they were moving their wand, giving advice on how to do it better. Vesperra had continued to have trouble with it (mostly because she wanted so much to not have to do this), and it was not until Flitwick had told her that these would likely come up in their exams that she truly became determined to master it and started to use it just as well as anyone else in the room.

Unfortunately, Millicent was not very incompetent, and was successfully able to cast effective Cheering Charms on Vesperra. The first time, it had only been a small lifting of her heart out of its shroud of dread—and that had been well into the hour. Vesperra supposed that she had a sort of resistance to the spell up to a point, and was glad for it. As Millicent continued, however, the uplifts of her mood grew exponentially stronger, and Vesperra was soon finding it more and more difficult not to let her contentment show on her face. By the end of the class, her lips had twitched into a brief smile several times. The worst part was that she couldn't even be angry at the fact that she couldn't force herself to be angry.

When it finally came time for them to leave for Double Herbology, Vesperra was extremely relieved. Had the end of class come just a few minutes later, she wasn't sure whether she'd have been able to stop herself from giggling like mad. The Slytherin third years walked out of the classroom and downstairs all with wide grins—all but Vesperra, who was using all of her self-control not to do so. Though she had felt nothing but stress and dread lately and should have been glad to feel great contentment, she now wished very badly that she could just feel bitter again.

"You know, Grease-perra," sniggered Malfoy, who had let himself fall to the back of the group with her, "you should have a daily dose of Cheering Charms. It would be good for you."

The rest of them sniggered in agreement—all but for Theodore Nott, whose grin had faltered; and a pang of annoyance and resentment broke through her artificial contentment.

* * *

For the weeks following the Marauder's Map incident, Severus remained angry and suspicious at Lupin. The next two full moons had him worrying, waiting and drowning in his own paranoia that _something _was going to happen, and then relieved when nothing did.

It was extremely tense and not to mention awkward whenever Lupin had to make visits to his office to take his dose of the Wolfsbane Potion; Severus refrained from speaking to the man at all, though he'd have liked to interrogate him more.

But the up-side, he supposed, was that Potter would never see the Marauder's Map again. Lupin wouldn't be stupid enough to let him keep it, as you were never supposed to use the same plan twice—even if the first time hadn't even been intentional.

His spying on the werewolf decreased, however, because the teachers of Hogwarts, especially him, were becoming busier and busier with the amount of homework they had to assign and grade. The fifth and seventh years had by far the most, and O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. level homework took very long to grade.

And yet, through all of his duties as a teacher and as Potter's protector, he still set aside time for Vesperra nearly every day. He hadn't gotten around to mentioning it, and he didn't even want to admit such a childish thought to himself, but he wished just as much as she must have that he could put all of this on hold and spend a day at the clearing by the lake with her. A day of relaxing in the shade and fresh air with Vesperra, as well as being able to be spiritually closer to Lily, was what he really needed.

As impractical it would have been to do so, Severus seriously considered taking a break from Lupin and bringing Vesperra to the clearing again when it neared the anniversary of the first time he had brought her there.

* * *

It was the Friday just before the start of Easter holidays, and only two days after Flitwick's lesson on Cheering Charms. Vesperra had just come from an Ancient Runes lesson, and was headed downstairs to the Great Hall for dinner. Taking large and quick strides, she walked to the end of the corridor, at which was an archway that led into the heart of the castle, where all the moving staircases were. It was closer than the spiral staircase that would lead her straight down to the ground floor, and less crowded only in the sense that it was much bigger, and therefore less dense with people.

The stairs from the fourth floor swiveled to attach its top to the previously empty stretch of stone in front of where Vesperra was standing, and she went down them immediately.

Around her, the stentorian groups of students seemed to be evenly split between those who were celebrating the end of term, fist-pumping and talking excitedly with their friends, and those who looked miffed and were complaining about their massive amounts of homework. Often rather quick at finishing her homework, Vesperra wasn't worried or feeling particularly stressed about it; it would even give her something to do when Severus was busy spying on Lupin and doing whatever else….

Rather than waiting at the edge of the fourth floor corridor for another staircase to lead her downward, Vesperra, along with a handful of the other people around her, headed down the corridor to the spiral staircase instead. If anyone were to ask—and if she were the sort of person that responded every time someone talked to her, she wouldn't have been able to explain it, but she felt like that would be the more efficient way down. Perhaps it was an obsessive-compulsive thing, or perhaps it was instinct after having been walking around Hogwarts for three years, but she just did.

And suddenly, as she walked and adjusted the strap on her shoulder so that it wasn't practically cutting into her collarbone, Vesperra felt a very small jolt in her stomach. It wasn't too unlike the random spasms that she sometimes had while it was cold—and sometimes when it wasn't, as well, so she supposed it was a random muscle contraction from her being starving. However, a strange sensation remained in her lower chest that she might have associated with Severus, had he been around. Ignoring it, she continued walking and looking only straight ahead.

But it happened again, seconds later, no less subtly than the last time. Though now suspicious, her shoulders relaxed from their stiff state, as did her seemingly permanent scowl. Before she could react, she felt it again, and was now feeling what she could recognize as bliss, bliss that had come from nowhere—bliss that shouldn't _be_ there at all. And then, the moment she realized what was going on, her heart was lightened again—but too much, and she smiled uncontrollably for a moment before she was able to right herself and force it down.

Her anger at whoever was doing this was enough to override the increasing giddiness, and she pulled her wand out of her sleeve at once, swiveling around on her heel at the same time. But that was a mistake—

"_Expelliarmus!_" said a voice with a thick Irish accent, which belonged to a freckled boy with sandy hair off to her right on the other side of the corridor. Vesperra had only a second's furious glance at Finnigan before her head whipped to her left, in which direction her wand had flown out of her hand. To her horror, it very nearly soared straight through the open window, but luckily hit one of the stone columns in between the arch-shaped windows and was now sitting on the ledge, dangerously close to being at enough of an angle that it could have become suddenly unbalanced and fallen four stories to the grass below.

Panicking and straining herself to be angry, Vesperra instinctively took a defensive stance and turned to face Finnigan, who was grinning and laughing along with everyone else in the corridor. He didn't raise his wand again, but Vesperra felt another jolt—this time almost like a jab, and causing her to actually let out a laugh. Another whip of her head to the left, with which she felt her neck crack, she saw Dean Thomas, Finnigan's best friend, not too far down the corridor.

_Of course,_ she managed to think through all the contentment and happiness that was fighting to take over, _they won't do this unless it's two against one, and the one they're against is wandless._ Now, as her eyes quickly swept her surroundings in hopes of seeing a prefect or a teacher, she saw that there were none—there weren't any other Slytherins, either.

Vesperra almost instantly lost hope of a teacher showing up and stopping this, for over half the school had to be down in the Great Hall by now, and this was a generally unused corridor. It was a turn off of a fourth floor corridor that hardly held any used classrooms… which was most likely why Thomas and Finnigan had chosen to do this here.

"You—!" She had been about to call Thomas a curse word that even Severus would have been angry at her for using, but he pointed his wand at her yet again, saying the incantation under his breath, and caused her to feel such a jolt into happiness that it was unrealistic. At this, she realized that Thomas was extremely over-doing it, whether purposely or not, and in a way that he wasn't even concentrating hard enough to make Vesperra feel nothing but contentment. All the anger and indignation she felt was subconscious, but she could still feel it easily and clearly.

"I thought you could do with a bit of cheering up, Grease-perra!" laughed Thomas.

Inhaling sharply, Vesperra was now hunched over slightly and visibly struggling not to smile like a maniac; although, ironically, the way she was hunched over made her look like a maniac anyway.

Sniggering and even outright giggling echoed in her ears through her mad storm of half-murderousness, half-giddiness. The literal internal conflict had her shaking, and the subconscious fury and hatred for Thomas and Finnigan flashed behind her eyes for a split second as she suddenly wished with every fiber of her being that she had the Malignant Cards again. Her promise to Severus was irrelevant at the moment—she wanted the worst for those boys, who had done as she feared and used the Cheering Charm as a jinx, meant to humiliate rather than actually harm.

Vesperra's shock overwhelmed everything else a half-second later when something small appeared in her right hand as though it had squeezed itself into the grip of her clenched fist. She simply couldn't believe it, and she couldn't help looking to her right hand and almost gaping before regaining control over herself; the Twenty-Six (twenty-four, now) Malignant Cards had appeared in her hand at her desire to have them. They had traveled instantaneously all the way from her bedroom in Stoneyard to her hand, as she stood here in Hogwarts….

Her hand had been covered, to a point, by her robe sleeve, so Vesperra didn't think anyone had seen, and even if they had, it would have been such a subtle change that they would likely have figured the thin deck of cards had been in her hand all along. The Cards had come rather uselessly, she thought—there was no way for her to use them, unless she dropped them…. But she was still so confused as to how they had appeared merely because of her immense anger and shocked at their unexpected arrival that she did not think about it. In fact, she now wished that they were gone… but they didn't leave her hand and return to their box when she thought it.

Another string of muttered words and a jolt in her stomach, and the confusion was temporarily gone. Immense happiness had taken over conscious thought, and Thomas had over-done the spell so much that it was now impossible for her to resist for more than a second; Vesperra first giggled shakily, and then burst out laughing. She was very surprised at first, because she had no idea that such a noise could even come out of her mouth.

Her entire body was convulsing with the laughter—or was it internal confusion? There was still a small part of her that retained her fury at the entire situation, because Dean Thomas hadn't done the spell correctly. It was like her consciousness was split in two, and the smaller half was trapped deep inside the large one, unable to make any effect or do anything but just be there and rage inside of her, conflicting enormously with the artificial happiness Thomas's warped use of the spell was causing.

Vesperra unconsciously clenched her fists so hard that she bent the Malignant Cards back on both sides, and they shot straight out of her hand to the ground. At the same time, she doubled over, but was laughing too hard to react to the pain of colliding with the stone floor. Besides, there was enough pain from the laughter, anyway; she could hardly breathe for it, and tears squeezed themselves out of her tightly closed eyes. As she clutched at a stitch in her side, the laughter of everyone else in the corridor as she was on the ground, humiliated so horribly in a circle of onlookers, rang through her ears.

Soon enough, she was sure, this would become so unbearable that she'd explode…. But before Thomas could strengthen it, Vesperra heard another cry of "_Expelliarmus!_" It was a familiar voice, deeper than Finnigan's and Thomas's. She then heard the clatter of a wand on the floor, and then a loud shout from Finnigan before he was apparently disarmed as well.

At this, Vesperra regained some of her control—enough of it that, throughout her continued uncontrollable laughter, it fully registered to her that the Malignant Cards were all over the floor around her. She immediately made to try and pick them all up before any of the surrounding students became too curious, and her laughter even started to lose its mirth, her fury resurfacing to her conscious self.

Judging by the sounds of running footsteps (though they sounded oddly distant and muffled), it seemed that Thomas and Finnigan had grabbed their wands and run off, and the other students had gone as well. Vesperra wasn't sure of what had happened in her ten to twenty seconds of complete separation from reality as she had started panicking, but she really didn't care at the moment. The mutilated remains of what Thomas had intended to be cheer and contentment were still within her, causing her to tremble and grin manically despite the fact that she felt she was the absolute antithesis of cheer right now.

And then, while she scrambled to gather up all the cards, yet to decide what to do with them later, she heard footsteps again—which she ignored. In a few seconds, Nott was bent down next to her with her wand in his outstretched hand, his expression full of sympathy.

"Here's your wand back—" He started to say before Vesperra jerked it angrily out of his hand, not even looking at him or thanking him. She hastened even more to pick up any of the Malignant Cards that were still on the ground, and only vaguely registered that Nott was helping.

Apparently having noticed that Vesperra was shaking so hard that it was difficult for her to stand up, he wordlessly got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. In her fury, however, she smacked his hand away and forced herself to get up as well, and then looked at him, her usual wall of coldness fractured and unskillfully repaired with rage.

Humiliated and angry, she lashed out at him, aware that tears were staining her face and that there was still a sort of laugh in her voice. "I _didn't_ need you to rescue me from those idiots, and I _don't_ need you to help me up!"

Nott looked taken aback and even a little hurt, but Vesperra didn't care. She immediately turned to walk away as quickly as possible, but before she had even swiveled all the way around, Nott's eyes widened, and he moved his left hand forward, which was clearly holding a card.

"Hey—wait!"

But Vesperra didn't stop, though she had realized what had just happened. It didn't matter, anyway; the card's curse, whatever it was, would have an effect on Nott whether or not she took it back from him. Her legs carried her downstairs through the empty corridors, and straight into the dungeons instead of the Great Hall—she wasn't the least bit hungry anymore.

And after she returned to her dorm and collapsed, feeling just _awful_, onto her bed, she looked through the Malignant Cards and realized that the Heartbroken card was missing.

* * *

Had Severus been aware of Vesperra's… _incident_, he'd have been filled with grief for how humiliated she must have felt (he knew the feeling, and wouldn't have been able to help but recall the memory that he associated with humiliation like that), and would have likely murdered Thomas and Finnigan. However, she didn't tell him about it later that night, both because she didn't think she could handle admitting it, even to him, and because she wanted to get her own revenge on those boys.

Instead, she told him that she had been given so much homework that she wanted to finish it as soon as possible before the Easter holidays so that she could have more time to spend with him. Knowing her habit to put too much stress on herself, he easily believed it and told her that she really didn't need to work so hard when she had all the time she needed to finish her homework.

Vesperra dreaded what Malfoy and the others would do when they found out—which had been inevitable, and also wondered what they would say to Nott for coming to her aide. Even after the Easter holidays had officially begun, she hadn't gotten over the humiliation of it and was still angry at him, not sorry at all that he'd been cursed. She didn't think very much about the card that he'd accidentally picked up, but instead had her head absolutely swimming with more questions about the cards' properties.

_The fact that they appear in your hand if you're angry enough would have been pretty damn useful to know,_ she thought while stuffing the remaining cards into a sock and then deep into her school trunk, which she slammed shut. Her anger was temporarily directed at Mr. Borgin for not having told her, but Vesperra soon realized that they would have come whether she had known about that or not.

The one thing that particularly perplexed her was how the Malignant Cards had transported from their box under a floorboard in her house, into the castle on their own. Hogwarts was supposed to be protected by the most powerful enchantments; Vesperra didn't think it was possible for anything to force itself magically within that barrier. Apparently, she had been wrong.

If there were exceptions to the rule of Hogwarts's protective enchantments, then what if Sirius Black had been getting in essentially the same way? That would mean that he hadn't necessarily _broken through_ the barriers, but rather, had found an exception to them.

A smirk had come to her at this realization, for she realized that this was a theory she could tell Severus without telling him anything about the cards or the Cheering Charm incident.

* * *

"That is… actually, extremely possible," said Severus after she had explained it to him on the Sunday after term ended. He gave her a rare smile, amazed at her brilliant mind—but in all honesty he shouldn't have been. Vesperra had repeatedly shown in the past just how intelligent she was. "The only problem is that we don't know _what_ exactly that exception is…. Still, we're one step closer."

"Have you ever heard of any other exceptions to Hogwarts's protections?" asked Vesperra, her expression lifting slightly in pride at his smile. "Has anything remotely similar ever happened before—like when you were a student? And You-Know-Who doesn't count, since he was and still is only a mutilated soul…. Black's alive, so he wouldn't be able to possess anyone or preserve his memory in a book."

"As far as I know, this is the first time that someone has broken into Hogwarts at all…." Although, Severus did vaguely remember something that registered with the word "exception"—but he couldn't figure out what it was. He didn't feel it important to tell Vesperra, since it was no information to go on, on its own.

"Well, what about other students smuggling in Dark objects? We both know _that_ has happened before…."

"Yes, but that's not really against Hogwarts's barriers—Dark objects have almost always been confiscated if found, but nothing's ever been done to make sure they aren't brought into the castle at all—"

"I know," Vesperra said, "and that's exactly my point. Since Dark objects can easily get within the castle walls, it wouldn't be difficult for Lupin to use one to somehow get Black inside, using whatever exception he's found."

Severus let himself fall back and lean firmly on the back of his couch, huffing slightly. "And once again, we're brought to a stalemate," he said with slight disappointment. "There's a good chance that you're correct, and it _is_ some sort of object that he's using, but I've already searched his office. If he has anything, he keeps it where I can't get to it."

"Hm." Vesperra slumped back into the couch with him, absentmindedly swinging her hand back and forth with his like an upside-down pendulum as she continued to think. "And there's also a good chance that I'm wrong and that it's some other exception he's discovered," she sighed. "But like you said, it's one step closer."

* * *

Throughout the beginning of the Easter holidays, Vesperra as well as the rest of the school was up to her knees in homework. Of course, she never put off her homework until the last few days, so she didn't have any of the essays that had been assigned by her classes earlier during the last week of term. Almost no one ever went home for Easter, so the Common Room was often still full.

Unexpectedly, the other Slytherin third years—or any of the Slytherins, for that matter—didn't seem to have heard about what had happened on Friday. Vesperra had noticed something was out of the ordinary when the weekend had passed and, still, no one was saying anything to her, not even Theodore Nott. She assumed that, like Valentine's Day the year previous, when she had cursed Malfoy, only the small group of people that witnessed it as well as some others knew about it. Nott wouldn't have told anyone, and perhaps Thomas and Finnigan refrained from telling anyone out of fear of getting found out by a teacher—namely Severus.

During the holidays, Vesperra spent enough time either with Severus, doing homework, or studying that she didn't carry out any sort of revenge for Thomas and Finnigan—though she did think up several plans for them when she had had nothing better to do. Severus hadn't been any less busy (not counting the fact that he didn't have any classes to teach), so he hadn't even mentioned the clearing by the lake; however, part of her suspected that this was only because he didn't want to get her hopes up.

The week didn't last long, however, and the new term started like a slap in the face after a very brief nap. As the main hustle and bustle of students walking to classes, hunched over slightly because of their now rather heavy schoolbags hanging from their shoulder, resumed, so did the high energy and spirits whose cause would have been obvious even if Vesperra had not been aware of it beforehand: Quidditch.

On the first Saturday of term was the final Quidditch match of the season, whose outcome determined the overall victorious House—either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Both teams had been practicing incessantly, it seemed (Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team was often gone during breakfast and dinner to get to his practices), and tension that had been building since the beginning of the Easter holidays was ready to break.

Though Vesperra had only been attending Hogwarts for three years, she felt sure that it must have been several since the entire school had been in such a highly charged atmosphere prior to a Quidditch match. Minor duels and scuffles in the corridors were happening quite often—mainly between Gryffindors and Slytherins. Both Houses were trying to sabotage the other, and it occasionally included supporters of either House from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

Seeing her chance for revenge almost at once, Vesperra took advantage of this and joined in the supposed support for her House. On Thursday, she managed to shoot a well-aimed hex at Thomas and Finnigan from behind (since they had been so cowardly as to do that, she was going to do this just as underhandedly), who had been walking together in the corridors; the two of them broke out in angry, red, unbearably itchy rashes. She'd have liked to have done worse, but even with no teacher around, something like the _Vacubilus_ curse would have risked major detention. They went immediately to the Hospital Wing, though, so she was somewhat satisfied. No one but them would think that it had been for any reason but the House rivalry, so she was safe from any questions from students—or teachers.

Saturday arrived with a flurry of excitement from the rest of the school, but with disappointment for Vesperra. The night before, Severus had told her that it wouldn't be very smart—well, especially less this time—for her to sit with him at the match. In his words: "_It isn't mandatory, but it is tradition will be expected of me to be seated in the very front row of all the Slytherins, who generally all sit together to support our House if our team makes it to the Finals. Teachers and older students would think it was odd if I wasn't…. I'm very sorry—I'd very much prefer to sit with you, you know that, but I simply can't._"

Vesperra understood, and wouldn't ask him to risk the secrecy of their relationship just to sit with her, but couldn't help but feel rather disappointed as she went out to the Quidditch field and found a seat at the very back of the Slytherin section, behind a tidal wave of green and silver, a serpent glittering on each flag and banner that protruded from it. She tried not to sit anywhere near Malfoy, but she found, after her bottom was already touching the bench, that Theodore Nott was only a row in front of and ten or so people down from her. He glanced at her and hastily looked away, just as she had caught him doing a few times before during the week. He had hardly spoken to her even during that week's Ancient Runes lessons, so Vesperra supposed he was still confused or hurt about what had happened. And she was only slightly less angry at him.

When the surrounding cheers, comprised mostly of the voices of Gryffindor supporters (pretty much everyone that wasn't in Slytherin), reached its peak, the players began to come out onto the pitch. Vesperra groaned inwardly at the discomfort from her eardrums caving in, but watched with suspense nevertheless.

* * *

"And here are the Gryffindors!" The voice of Lee Jordan, who had been the commentator for Quidditch matches for the past four years, rang out excitedly over the stands. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"

His voice was then drowned out by boos from the Slytherin crowd. Severus sat in the very front row, wearing green to show his support and smiling rather grimly—though he was now a bit annoyed by the unnecessarily loud noise behind him. He was just as hopeful to see Slytherin beat Gryffindor in this match, but the bitter reality of how unlikely that was overwhelmed the anxiety. He was sure that he'd have felt better with Vesperra right beside him and with her hand to squeeze, but as he had told her, that wouldn't have been prudent.

"And here's the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint," continued Lee Jordan over the noise. "He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill—"

_Finally, someone else addresses it…,_ thought Severus and Vesperra at the same time, sure that, however far apart they were, that the other was thinking the same. The rest of the Slytherin end drowned him out again with a tide of boos, but Severus didn't understand why no one else agreed; bulk didn't determine victory, not most of the time, at least. That _was_ a Slytherin ideal, wasn't it? And they wanted their House to _win_, didn't they?

Down on the pitch, Flint and Wood were shaking hands. Once Madam Hooch had blown her whistle, fourteen brooms were up in the air, and the crowd on both ends was roaring again. Severus's grim smile faded into a serious look as the Quaffle was thrown up into the air by Madam Hooch, and the Quidditch Final officially began.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by—Johnson, Gryffindor back into possession, come on, Angelina—nice swerve around Montague—_duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!_—SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina Johnson gave the air a celebratory punch as three-fourths of the crowd cheered and the rest of them groaned—Severus groaning only inwardly—but then Marcus Flint soared straight at her, and he smashed into her so hard that she nearly flew off her broom.

The Gryffindor supporters all booed, while the Slytherins laughed with approval. Severus's lip curled, however, as he knew that such revenge had been pointless and would only cost the Slytherin team. Sometimes, he was ashamed to have such idiots in his House….

Just afterwards, one of the Weasley twins chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. It was high above, but Severus could still see the blood on his face; annoyed as he had been at Flint, he was now angry at Weasley for harming him.

Madam Hooch zoomed in between them at once, shrieking so loudly that it was very audible from the stands, "That will do! Penalty shot to Gryffindor for unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to _their_ Chaser!"

Severus, now somewhat satisfied that the penalties were evened out, only heard a Weasley twin shout, "Come off it, Miss!" before the whistle was blown again. Spinnet flew forward to take the penalty and after the encouragement of Lee Jordan—to the general dismay of the two hundred Slytherins—made the Quaffle past Bletchley.

"YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Flint then flew forward, blood still dripping from his nose to the ground so many feet below. Jordan continued to commentate during the wait for Madam Hooch to blow her whistle again:

"'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!—Superb! Very difficult to pass—very difficult indeed—YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Flint soared away, frustration just as obvious on his face as it was on Severus's. Scowling and idly wondering when the last time was that they'd had a Slytherin commentator, he stiffened and watched. The players resumed play, and Severus's eyes were darting back and forth between them, occasionally moving to Potter and Malfoy. Surely the Slytherin team would pull back soon….

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherins in possession—no!—Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field—THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Once again, the Slytherin team had shown their learned underhandedness; Montague had swerved in front of Bell and grabbed her head rather than the Quaffle under her arm. The momentum caused the girl to cartwheel in the air and nearly fall off her broom—and she dropped the Quaffle. A whistle sounded and Severus waited in fuming silence for Madam Hooch to finish yelling at Montague. He was already angry that his House's team was resorting to such tactics already, and even angrier when Bell made another penalty shot past Bletchley.

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—"

"Jordan," shouted Professor McGonagall, "if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—!"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Severus wished that McGonagall would hold actually hold up to her threats and find a new commentator, but before he could even complete the thought in his head, he saw that Potter was speeding towards the Slytherin end of the pitch with Malfoy haring after him. The Slytherin Beaters tried to take care of that, though; Derrick hit the first Bludger right past Potter's ear, and then another shot grazed his elbow. Bole closed in, raising his club as Derrick was, and with the Bludgers at quite a distance from them Severus was sure what they were about to do—

Potter turned his Firebolt up at the last second, however, and Derrick and Bole collided with a sickening crunch. Part of Severus was frustrated yet again, and yet another part was glad that the Slytherin Beaters' plan had failed, because they'd otherwise have likely given Gryffindor another penalty shot or had the game postponed and another fifty points taken from Slytherin.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan, further incensing the Slytherin crowd. Derrick and Boyle lurched away from each other, both clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll have to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle—Flint alongside her—poke him in the eye, Angelina!—it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke—oh no—Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save—!"

But Flint had finally scored, making the current score thirty to ten. The Slytherin end erupted in cheers, Severus smirked in spite of his eardrums threatening to pop, and Jordan swore. As McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone from him, he said hastily, "Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, Gryffindor in possession—Spinnet has it, passes to Johnson, and it's caught by Pucey instead—damn—I mean _darn_, sorry, Professor!—YES, back to Spinnet, c'mon Alicia—HEY, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING—"

"_Jordan!_" McGonagall warned him. Bole had hit Alicia Spinnet with his club, and she had just barely clung to her broom; one of the Weasley twins had flown past him immediately after and elbowed him in the face in retaliation.

After another few minutes of shouting, Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties. Spinnet made it and Wood saved Flint's, moving Gryffindor up another ten points. At this point, Severus was calling both teams all kinds of swear words in his mind. He was angry at the Gryffindors for winning, and at the Slytherins for being so talentless that they had so quickly resorted to any measures to take the Quaffle.

It was hardly two minutes before Bell scored, but Severus's eyes were on Derrick and Boyle on the other side of the pitch, who had raised their bats and shot both Bludgers straight at Wood. They caught him consecutively in the stomach, and Severus couldn't help but cringe very slightly as Wood, looking completely winded, rolled over in the air—he was reminded of something quite similar from his first year that had involved Black, Potter, and him.

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" shrieked Madam Hooch as she flied up there, absolutely beside herself. "Gryffindor penalty!"

And it continued; as Gryffindor's head-start lead grew, so did Severus's dread. Johnson made the penalty, and Spinnet made another goal only moments later. The screaming all around was deafening, but Severus was beginning to become numb to it—especially when there was greater shock and dread to take the place of his headache: Potter zoomed across the field again, already starting to stretch out his hand.

However, Malfoy caught up with him and had thrown himself forward, off of his own broom, to grab the tail of Potter's Firebolt. This time, Severus's jaw started to clench, but he then realized that Malfoy, no matter how much damage he might have done, had just prevented an immediate Gryffindor victory.

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" howled Jordan, dancing out of McGonagall's reach so she couldn't take the megaphone away. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING, BASTARD!"

Professor McGonagall didn't berate him, but was instead shaking her finger reprovingly at Malfoy, who had gotten back on his broom, and shouting furiously. The penalty was taken by Spinnet, who, to the Slytherins' delight, missed. Montague scored soon after, and, though he'd never have told Vesperra, Severus was very grateful for Malfoy at the moment.

Potter was now flying extremely close to Malfoy, apparently in an attempt to block him from making any turns, but once again everyone's attention was drawn away, for now Angelina Johnson had the Quaffle and every single Slytherin player but for the Seeker was streaking through the air towards her to block her—

And then, proving intelligence Severus had never seen in him, Potter bent low against his broom and shot towards them all like a bullet. They scattered, yelling, and—

"SHE SCORES!" whooped Jordan. "SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty to twenty!"

Miles behind Potter, Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph unmistakable on his face even from this distance; it caused a hopeful gasp from much of the Slytherin crowd. Even Severus's heart stopped, and something about this moment told him that these were the final seconds, that everything would end here….

Potter turned around moments later, seeing Malfoy, and pelted after him. His Firebolt was quickly catching up—Severus began to lose hope—and he dodged the Bludger that Bole sent at him, then made it directly behind Malfoy—then at his side, stretching his arm out… And in the next second, he had thrown himself forward, knocked Malfoy out of the way, and grabbed the tiny, golden, fluttering Snitch.

"YES!" Potter's yell echoed throughout the entire stadium as he pulled out of the dive, and the stadium exploded with cheers.

But Severus, along with the rest of the Slytherins, had grief beyond hisses or boos, and fell silent in horror. He had been correct… it had all ended there. Only, Gryffindor had pulled through and won… _they had won_… the Quidditch Cup. While hundreds of scarlet-clad students, as well as Hagrid, McGonagall, and Dumbledore were spilling onto the pitch to jump up and down in celebration and lift Potter onto their shoulders, Severus and his House felt as though they were in the lone, dark corner of it all.

The gears working furiously in his mind to fully comprehend what had just happened, he fumed silently, hating Potter and every single person in Gryffindor House. Severus couldn't say he hadn't expected this at all, but that didn't make it any less aggravating—to say the least.

And several rows behind him, Vesperra sharply flailed her arms in place of throwing something on the ground, which she'd have definitely done if she had anything to throw, and had actually let out a noise of pure, unadulterated frustration.

* * *

**I know this is at least the second time I've ended with a Quidditch match, but I didn't want this chapter to drag on too long. Also, I know that more of you must be mad at me... But I know you know what I'm talking about, so I'm not going to directly state it. That way you guys can actually REVIEW and tell me what you thought about all of this. **

**Seriously, I'm getting so little reviews now! Please, PLEASE review... I mean, there's so much for you to tell me about! I know it's extra effort for you guys, but it's _nothing_ compared to the effort I'm putting forth in order to rewrite the entire Harry Potter series from Snape's point of view-AND to complete a chapter a week. The least you could do is give me feedback. Reading reviews actually makes it easier for me to write, and when I only get a single review for a new chapter, it's difficult for me to get into a writing mood. So PLEASE review.**

**Also, there's only one chapter left for Book 3! ^_^ Although, it might end up getting so long that I split it into two.**


	45. Book 3: Chapter 17

**GUYS GUYS GUYS ASDFGHHYYGESRDFBJHK...**

**I've finally finished rewriting Prisoner of Azkaban from Snape's point of view! This chapter ended up getting so long that I had to split it in half. Also, this includes a lot of stuff directly from the chapters _Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_; _The Servant of Lord Voldemort_, _Hermione's Secret_; and _Owl Post Again_, so I'm going to go ahead and say that I obviously don't own any of it.**

**Oh, and thank you SO MUCH for all the new reviews! I hope you enjoy the final chapters! ^_^**

* * *

The aftermath of the Quidditch Final was of conflicting spirits; the Slytherins, unwilling to let go of losses as always, remained angry with great frustration and animosity towards Gryffindor, but every other House was celebrating. For the next week or so, rarely any non-Slytherin was seen without a grin, and they continued to shove it in the Slytherins' faces.

Even Vesperra, who generally didn't care for Quidditch, did not let her bitterness go. Now that Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup, they had pretty much also won the House Cup overall. Unless Dumbledore was going to award Slytherin some last-minute points that put them over-the-top at the end of the year… But that wouldn't happen, because Dumbledore loved Potter too much. Vesperra could have single-handedly caught Black and the old man still wouldn't let Slytherin win this year.

However, her and Severus's bitterness soon slipped from being a grudge to simply being resentment, because exams were only two months away, which took greater precedence in their minds—especially for Vesperra. Sirius Black could have broken in again, but aside from _everything_, she needed to ace her exams. She was just that way.

The weeks from then up until June were filled with excessive amounts of homework and studying. Just like the previous two years, Severus exempted her from Potions homework; though she argued at first, she ended up rather grateful for it.

While the sky outside was growing clearer and the weather grew warmer, many students didn't hesitate to express their desire to go and find a tree outside to sit under and just do nothing. Vesperra preferred the dungeons to the outside, so she didn't mind it so much, but even she couldn't argue with the fact that each passing day seemed to be teasing them, since no one could go out and enjoy them. At least Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology classes were becoming more bearable.

Ancient Runes lessons were less awkward than they had been since around Easter, and Nott didn't seem nervous around her anymore—he must have realized that Vesperra couldn't really hold a grudge against him for coming to her rescue, however much pride she had. She hadn't thanked him, though, or even apologized for lashing out at him; she figured that he wouldn't have expected that of her, anyway.

Possibly the one class that Vesperra truly wished she could just give up altogether was History of Magic, as the classroom was stuffy in the sweltering summer heat and that made it much more difficult to pay attention to Binns. As she'd always done, she used the textbook for her homework and took notes on her own rather than taking notes during class; it took more time, but it was easier.

Vesperra's only real comfort was her time with Severus, whether it just be his voice or all of him. He often told her that she needed to calm down and not overwork herself so much, and even gave her Calming Draughts at times. However, the fact that it was limited time was stress in itself to be added to her sleepless nights of studying, and her thoughts all the while were plagued by Black and Lupin.

She supposed that talking to Damien might have been a bit of relief as well, because she still wanted to know about his progress with reuniting his mother and father, but they weren't writing back and forth to each other. Vesperra hadn't spoken at all to him since the Hogsmeade trip, and figured that her cousin would simply tell her when he started to make progress.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was at his worst. All of Slytherin House was angry at him for letting Potter get past him and get the Snitch, and he was no longer confidently swaggering around the corridors like he owned them. Noticeably subdued as he was, this put him in a constantly foul mood and, in turn, he was taking out his frustration on Vesperra. It was becoming so much that, many times, she decided to skip meals in order to avoid him. It was necessary to stay on her guard for Malfoy coming around the corner with Crabbe and Goyle to knock her books out of her arms or even push her straight to the ground almost daily, and even then she couldn't often avoid it.

However, in the last week before exams, the spoiled, blonde brat regained his confidence upon hearing from his father that Buckbeak's execution was to take place on the sixth of June, when they all finished their exams. From what he practically announced to the whole Slytherin table, the Minister and an executioner would be coming up to the castle to do it and that there really wasn't going to be any appeal. Over the next few days, Malfoy laid off Vesperra somewhat in favor of purposely walking near Potter, Weasley, and Granger, and sneering about how Hagrid was going to be blubbering so hard that he might just flood the grounds. He seemed thoroughly pleased that he had brought all this about.

With exams only a few days away at this point, Vesperra hardly had room inside her mind to be annoyed with Malfoy, though. When the third of June finally arrived, she felt weighed down with every step out of the Great Hall and through the corridors, especially because of the unnatural hush that had fallen over the entire castle. She should have felt confident that she would pass each exam with high marks, considering how often and how hard she had studied—as well as her general intelligence, but she just couldn't help but fear the worst.

On Monday, the third years had Transfiguration first thing after breakfast in one of the larger classrooms in the Transfiguration corridor. Professor McGonagall went over the usual short lecture about how cheating was impossible and that the attempt to do so was not tolerated and would be punished severely. She then set them all to an hour and a half of silence, which was broken only by the sound of quills scratching on parchment, the shuffling of pages, and the occasional tinkle of glass when someone had to dip their quill in ink.

Vesperra found the written portion of the exam fairly easy, as it was all counting on memorization rather than skill. The questions ranged from simply asking for the incantation required in order to achieve certain effects to asking about the fundamental properties of animation spells. Granted, she reached a standstill on a couple questions, and spent several minutes trying to remember her notes, knowing that she'd gone over it a million times and yet not being able to recall the answer. It was with great resentment that she wrote down a half-hearted answer and moved on, though she knew they would hardly affect her overall grade.

For the next hour and a half, she and the rest of the third years waited to be called into McGonagall's office, where they were told to turn a pocketwatch into a crab, a teapot into a tortoise, and a pencil box into a gerbil. Vesperra was glad that, because of the order being alphabetical by last name, she didn't have to wait forever to be called up; at least she could get it over with.

It was easy enough to Transfigure the pocketwatch and pencil box, and Vesperra was actually quite proud of how well she did, but she was no exception to the difficulty of turning a teapot into a tortoise. For the most part, she thought, she'd done well, but the end of the tail still looked concave like a spout, and she thought that the head was too thick vertical-wise and that it hadn't completely transformed from being a handle.

"Better than most others, I daresay," said McGonagall in a tone that wasn't entirely reassuring, though with a small smile, as she jotted something on her clipboard. "You may leave. _Finch-Fletchley, Justin!_"

Leaving the office and returning to her seat, Vesperra passed Finch-Fletchley, who looked extremely nervous. Later, after everyone had been tested and the bell finally rang, signaling lunchtime, she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest. She was relieved especially in that Transfiguration was most likely the most difficult exam besides History of Magic—and that meant she had gotten the worst out of the way first. Many of the others around her looked exhausted and some were covered in soot (including Finnigan), probably from accidentally causing minor explosions with their practical tests.

By the sound of it, only a few others had made so few mistakes as her. This didn't reassure Vesperra very much, though; she didn't think merely being better than a bunch of idiots was something to be proud of. She could not help but be frustrated solely at the fact that she hadn't gotten it perfect.

Lunch revived her a bit, though she hurried through it before heading back upstairs to Charms with the rest of the third years. During the practical part of it, Flitwick tested them on several spells, including Cheering Charms, in which they had to pair up again. At this, her dread took a sudden increase, but she managed to get to Nott before Blaise could. He seemed slightly surprised that she would have chosen him after the last event that involved the both of them and Cheering Charms, but quickly agreed all the same.

They were once again called to Flitwick's office pair by pair, and Vesperra was hardly as nervous this time around. After a deep breath she started casting hers, and Nott seemed reasonably content afterward by the grin on his face. His, however, didn't seem to have much an effect on her, no matter how many times he tried. She did feel the deep-seated contentment that she could even call bliss, but it hardly showed on her face—and though she knew it jeopardized Nott's chances of passing, she didn't try to smile for his sake.

Before Flitwick could even comment, Nott turned to him and said, with slightly slumped shoulders, "You're not going to count points off for her not smiling, are you? She's always like that. I don't think Cheering Charms work on her like they do everyone else."

"Yes, yes," squeaked Professor Flitwick with somewhat of a chuckle, "I've noticed that as well. Miss D'Monicas definitely looks much more relaxed than usual, so you did rather well. Off you go, then!"

As Vesperra and Nott left, Flitwick called in Finnigan and Thomas, with whom they shared mutual death glares as they all passed each other. Vesperra sat, smirking inwardly at the thought of Thomas overdoing his, but both boys emerged a few minutes later without signs of hysterical laughter; he must have practiced more since Easter, then.

She half-expected Nott, who was sitting beside her, to bring up the topic of the Cheering Charm incident and possibly even ask about the card he had picked up, but he didn't. An hour later, during which Weasley had been put into a fit of laughter by Potter and moved to another room, they were allowed to leave and go downstairs to the Great Hall once again.

It was another hasty meal and then about four straight hours of studying before Vesperra fell asleep. She didn't take any breaks to talk to Severus through the journal, for she didn't want any distractions. The next morning, she awoke with an Astronomy Chart sticking to her face, and had to scrub hard in the shower to get the backwards imprint of Orion off of her right cheek.

Her second day of exams was hardly as heavy on her as the first had been. After breakfast, the third years who had Care of Magical Creatures headed outside and gathered around Hagrid's hut. It was a particularly warm day with a slight breeze, so Vesperra and many others were quite glad to be outside—especially near the Forbidden Forest, where there was cool air wafting about and a bit of shade.

"Righ'," said Hagrid, carrying a huge bucket and practically dropping it when he set it down. He looked extremely disheartened, but Vesperra didn't think much of it, since she knew the reason. There was a writhing, brown mass within the bucket, which she only recognized after a few seconds. "Fer yer exam, I want yeh all ter take a flobberworm, and make sure it's still alive a' the end o' one hour."

In the years to come, Vesperra would always remember this as the easiest exam she'd ever taken. Once she'd found a spot to lay down a few handfuls of lettuce and her flobberworm, she had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the hour, for they flourished best if left to their own devices. The fact that all the studying she'd done for Care of Magical Creatures (which really wasn't that much) had been useless annoyed her a little, but otherwise she was glad to just sit down on a patch of grass in the shade and relax.

It was such a nice day that she'd have liked to lay on her back with her arms folded behind her head, but with so many other people around, even with some of them doing as she'd have liked to, she wasn't going to display that kind of carefree spirit. Instead, she sat cross-legged with one hand supporting her face as she watched her flobberworm squirm around and slowly excrete slime over the lettuce before consuming it. Vesperra occasionally glanced up to see what the other people were doing. A ways away, Hagrid was talking to Potter, Weasley, and Granger, from whom she quickly looked away; there were several other groups of friends sitting around and talking as well.

About halfway into the hour, while Vesperra was staring somewhat dazedly at her flobberworm, there was suddenly a dark shadow cast over it. A single glance upward told her that Malfoy had come around with Crabbe and Goyle, and Crabbe had one huge foot suspended over the flobberworm. She was on her feet within the next second, her wand already out of her sleeve and in her hand, pointed directly at Malfoy's face.

"Don't you _dare_!" she hissed, taking a quick glance down at the flobberworm, which was still under threat of Crabbe's foot, and then towards Hagrid, who was all across the field.

Malfoy seemed a little nervous from being at wandpoint, but didn't unfold his arms and retained his arrogance. "I'd ask whether or not you were really bold enough to curse me while a teacher was around," he drawled, "but I don't really consider Hagrid a teacher…. Crabbe," he sighed, "don't step on it."

Apparently disappointed, Crabbe returned his foot to a normal position. But they didn't leave.

"Shouldn't you three be off watching your own flobberworms?" growled Vesperra, sliding her wand back in her sleeve. "And I thought you'd be too busy gloating about the hippogriff getting executed to come over and terrorize me, _Malfoy_."

Smirking, he said, "Pansy's watching ours. And I alternate occasionally, _Grease-perra_—I was bored." With brief, malicious laughter, he started walking away, and his cronies followed him at once.

In a small huff, Vesperra sat down and waited for the hour to end. During that time, she had nothing to do but think— and when all her unanswered theories about Sirius Black and Lupin drifted through her mind, she pushed those out and focused on thinking over potions instead.

After Hagrid had come over to her and checked that her flobberworm wasn't dead, she deposited it back in the bucket and was free to do whatever for the next two hours before lunch. Naturally, Vesperra returned to her dorm and used that time to study. She felt sorry for Severus, whom she knew was still dealing with students.

Unlike most others, she was looking forward to her Potions exam—not only because Severus was there, but also because she knew it would be tremendously easy for her.

* * *

Having just spent three hours with the few sixth years that had been allowed into his N.E.W.T. class, Severus wasn't nearly as irritable as he could have been. All ten of the students had gotten an Outstanding on their O.W.L., and so they were all competent enough to earn his respect; there wasn't very much sneering taking place. Before heading down to lunch, he put away the flasks of Elixir to Induce Euphoria to be graded later.

No one but Dumbledore or Vesperra (and possibly Lupin) would ever have guessed that Severus was sort of looking forward to his exam with the third years, but he was. Vesperra's presence alone, even if she couldn't talk to him, was enough to calm him down and lighten his mood considerably.

During the written portion of the exam, his eyes were almost constantly scanning the room, and they lingered on Vesperra for extended periods of time. Behind her curtain of hair that fell to her desk as she leaned over it, he could very nearly make out a smirk of confidence. He wouldn't have expected differently from her.

At her desk, Vesperra's quill was moving at a constant speed with only the occasional pause to shake her hand and make sure it didn't cramp up. She realized that she was probably overdoing it on some of the essay-ish answers (any that started with "Explain…," "Prove that…," or "Describe…."), but it didn't really cost her time, and it definitely wasn't going to cost her any points. When she was finished, she waited impatiently for Severus to announce that their time was up and to summon all the tests to his desk, and then tell them to get out their cauldrons.

For the second half of their exam time, they were to brew a Confusing Concoction from memory. Severus prowled around the room, leaning over the students' cauldrons and observing their progress. He remained slightly longer behind Vesperra, as he was taking the time to allow his chest to swell with pride for her; there was hardly any hesitation in her movements, and had this been an actual lesson, he'd have shown off her genius in order to degrade the Gryffindors. Instead, he settled for leaning a bit closer over her shoulder, cocking his head to her at an angle, and smirking.

While crushing sneezewort leaves, Vesperra saw his smirk through her peripheral vision and smiled slightly. So softly that it was only just barely distinguishable from a normal exhale and that even he could hardly hear, she whispered, "You're distracting me, Professor."

He really was. It was hard to concentrate with him standing there and smirking, making her chest grow extremely warm like that. In fact, that was about the only thing that could throw her off her usual focus.

Severus wasn't sure whether she was serious or joking, but he straightened himself and walked away anyway, for there were about thirty other students to observe— and this was only the first half, when he made the progress check simply for his own sake. He would come back around for the actual mark when they should nearly be finished.

As he passed Potter and Longbottom, he felt a definite vindictive pleasure; Longbottom had done considerably worse, but Potter had more recently done something to anger him so severely, so his pre-decided grades for them were about even. Potter wasn't able to manage to get his Concoction to thicken, and Severus spotted the mistake immediately—he hadn't added enough toad eyes when it had been necessary. With a smirk, he thought of how Vesperra would have managed to rectify the mistake if she had even made it in the first place.

_He clearly doesn't have any true understanding of the properties of potions, then_, thought Severus as he scribbled a zero onto his notes. _Vengeance is sweet, isn't it?_

Twenty minutes later, the bell rang again and the students were allowed to leave. Vesperra purposely took her time so she could stay a minute or so after everyone left.

Rather than anything that was in good spirits, a grim thought took hold of her as she approached his desk, and she was reminded of the Potions exam from her first year. It felt like less than a year ago, since they hadn't even had exams her second year.

"You know, Severus, I've been thinking…," she said, stopping at the side of his desk. He twisted in his seat so that he was facing her, and she put her hand on the edge of the desk to lean on it. "And if anything's going to happen, it's going to happen soon. Black has less than two weeks before everyone leaves on the Hogwarts Express, and I think he'd prefer to try before Potter leaves the castle."

Stiffening, he gave her a small half-grimace. For a split second, the lines on his face became very prominent, and he looked aged far beyond his years. Quietly, he said, "I've thought that as well. History does tend to repeat itself… especially in Hogwarts." He exhaled quickly and his voice became casual again. "You'd better get down to dinner. I'll head down in a minute. And if you realize that you don't need to study as hard as you do, I'll talk to you later tonight."

He covered her hand with his, and she twisted hers so that she could briefly intertwine their fingers. "I'd have considered it if I didn't have Astronomy tonight and History of Magic first thing tomorrow," she sighed. "I'm sorry that you have to be on the receiving end of this now…. But it's only a couple more days."

With difficulty, she let go of his hand and bade him goodbye before leaving. Severus listened to her footsteps die as he hurried to sort the essays and flasks away. He knew he could handle just two more days…. But what he was more worried about was when Black was going to attempt to break in for the third time, and whether or not the man would succeed.

_At least this paranoia won't have to last any longer than two weeks,_ he thought.

* * *

Vesperra got through her next day of exams on little sleep, though she felt she did okay in History of Magic. It was all memorization and occasionally actually having to have a thorough understanding of the events and why they happened. Next was Herbology, which would have been easier had she not been baking in the hot sun, which was only intensified by being in the greenhouses.

On Thursday morning, she was starting to dread her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam a little, for she would have to spend three hours in a room with Lupin.

But that proved not to be the case. When the third years had all arrived in the second floor corridor, Lupin emerged from his office and redirected them at once.

"There won't be any written portion to the exam," he said to general relief and somewhat excitement of the students, "so it won't be necessary to stay inside at all. Come with me, please."

He led them out to the grounds, where he had set up what looked like an obstacle course comprised of many of the creatures they'd learned about in the beginning of the year. Their points apparently came from how well they got past each task: they were to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, cross a series of potholes filled with Red Caps, squish their way through a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, and then climb into a trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

Vesperra was admittedly nervous as she waited—mostly because of the Boggart, but was also resentfully impressed at the fact that they actually had such a practical exam. Watching the others run the course was entertaining, though. Lupin wasn't calling students in alphabetical order, but instead by groups of friends or whenever they wanted to go. Crabbe and Goyle, as expected, hardly made it through the pool, and she heard a muffled scream when Malfoy entered the trunk. He hobbled out of it a minute later, looking quite shaken—though he must have still defeated it. She guessed that the amusing form of it would have been the hippogriff getting its head chopped off.

When it was her turn, her heart was pounding, but she refrained from looking at Lupin and stepped straight into the pool.

As she waded through, she kept her eyes on her feet to watch out for the grindylow and avoided the tangles of seaweed that they would likely be hiding in. However, it was necessary to go near them close to the end of the pool, and the little water demon jumped out at her ankles. Vesperra reacted a second too late; the grindylow managed to tear two very clean cuts on her leg before she could break its fingers and kick it several feet behind her.

Getting past the Red Caps and hinkypunk was as easy as simply having self-control, since all Vesperra had to do was avoid their mesmerizing effects and not be fooled by the creatures she'd been learning about all year. Finally, she stepped out of the marsh, wet, disheveled, and muddy, and stopped at the sight of the large, wooden chest. She knew what lay inside, and now that she was so close to it, she didn't want to face it, she just couldn't….

"Miss D'Monicas," said Lupin, who had been standing on the sidelines and was now closer to her, "you don't have to battle the Boggart, I know—"

It was that that pushed Vesperra to do it, for it incensed her that Lupin was trying to appear sorry for her. The fire inside her had been reignited, and she was determined to do this if only to prove that she could. _At least he's not calling me Vesperra anymore…._

While a part of her told her that this was extremely stupid and that she should have avoided it while she could, she seized the handle of the trunk and pulled it open, at the same time pulling herself in and getting mentally prepared.

The door closed with somewhat of an echo; it was very dim inside the trunk, but not so dark that she couldn't see. It was a few seconds before she saw what was lying on the ground at her feet; the sight of Severus's dead body again made her breath hitch, her chest constrict and the rest of her body want to collapse with hopelessness—but she had been prepared to see it this time, so she was at an advantage.

Steadying her stance so that her knees didn't buckle, Vesperra focused hard on the same thing she had thought of every time she had attempted to cast a Patronus, and said with all the confidence she could muster, "_Riddikulus!_"

Suddenly, there was a loud crack that echoed within the small space, and the Boggart-Severus was no longer lying dead on the floor. The blood was gone, his hair and robes weren't disheveled, his eyes were cold as ever but very much alive, and he was standing up. Boggart-Severus stepped towards her in his darkly menacing way that she loved and bent down enough that their faces were level, then grabbed both sides of her face and kissed her.

Vesperra knew it wasn't real, but she still enjoyed it immensely. When Boggart-Severus's lips let go of hers several seconds later, she let out an uncharacteristically dazed giggle. At once, the Boggart's borrowed face looked horrified, and she climbed out of the trunk before it could do anything else.

"Well done, Miss D'Monicas," said Lupin as she straightened her robes and walked out, though he was looking slightly confused. She hardly acknowledged him as she went to get her schoolbag and headed back up to the castle to change into clean robes before lunch. As she did, she realized that the next person to enter that trunk would see Severus, and they'd be very confused. Smirking at the thought, she pushed open the front doors and went into the Entrance Hall.

Her final exam of the day was Ancient Runes, and Vesperra was surprised to see that Granger wasn't there. Professor Babbling didn't seem to think anything of it, and no one asked—though they must have been just as confused as her, since Granger had just been outside with them during Lupin's exam.

Their test was to translate a couple paragraphs of runic sentences into English, and then different sentences from English to Runes. Almost everyone finished at different times, Vesperra being one of the first, so she had a lot of time to just sit and think. It hit her that this was the very last exam, and though there was an immense wave of relief at that, there was also dread, for whatever would happen concerning Black, seeping into her. She also thought of how she would be leaving Hogwarts in about a week, and that was a little saddening.

At last, the bell rang, signaling dinner and the end of that year's worries (for everyone else, at least), and there was a noise of mild celebration coming from most of the students in the room. They all hurried to sling their bags over their shoulders and leave, including Vesperra. Nott walked beside her at the same pace.

"I can't believe that was our last exam…," he muttered. Vesperra turned her head slightly to him. "And essentially, it's the end of the year and all there is left is to get our summer homework—but I don't want to think about that just yet…. Even _you've_ got to be excited about this!"

"I don't think it's up to you what I've _got_ to be," said Vesperra with a slightly joking tone. "But I am relieved."

"You don't sound that relieved."

"Since when have I been known to be very expressive?" She arched an eyebrow, and Nott's mouth twitched into a brief smirk.

"Never—and that's why I had a hard time figuring out whether or not you hated me." At that, both of Vesperra's eyebrows raised, and the rest of her face hardened on reflex. Nott seemed surprised at himself, and he shut his mouth.

After she ended her curious look with a sharp breath and looked forward again, she said dryly, "You've never been cruel to me like Malfoy and every other Slytherin is, so I don't hate you."

A few seconds of silence passed, and then Nott took a sudden turn to walk sideways so he could face her. "Vesperra, I—"

But then he glanced to the left, saw that they were about to enter the Great Hall, and went a little red in the face. He turned again and continued walking, looking as though his voice had completely escaped him. Frowning, she looked at him and said, "What?"

With a hasty "Nevermind," he quickened his pace and took a seat at the Slytherin table. Still confused, Vesperra sat down as well and tried to enjoy her dinner.

* * *

Reclining on the couch in his office, Severus held his journal in one hand and a quill in the other, waiting for Vesperra to respond. It was the first day since the previous Saturday that he'd spoken to her in the evening, and this was the main reason that he was glad for the end of exams.

Just as her next message began to appear on the page of the journal and rang out in her voice as though she was in the room, Severus had a sudden, irrelevant realization; it was the full moon, and Lupin had not come around to take his Wolfsbane Potion yet tonight. Annoyed that the man had forgotten, he quickly replied to Vesperra's message and slashed the corner, then stood up and filled a goblet with the potion sitting in a cauldron on a table in the middle of the room.

He took a handful of Floo powder from a jar on his mantle and threw it into the empty grate, then said loudly, "Lupin?" There was, however, no answer, and this left him confused and a bit suspicious. A moment ago, Severus had thought this would be a quick exchange and therefore he wouldn't have had to tell Vesperra that she'd have to wait about ten minutes for a response and not to worry, but now it was necessary. After scrawling a quick message of telling her exactly that, he marched out the door and carried the goblet up to Lupin's office.

When Severus arrived, the door was already open. Even more suspicious now, he forgot common courtesy and walked straight in. As he approached Lupin's desk, he supposed that the man could simply have been in his quarters or taking a bath, especially since it was nearly ten o'clock, but what he saw lying open erased everything of that nature from his mind.

Severus recognized it at once as the Marauder's Map, but he wasn't even troubling himself to wonder why Lupin had had it open, for that was obvious within two seconds; at his first glance, he saw a tiny dot labeled _Remus Lupin_ going very fast down a passage… the passage from the base of the Whomping Willow. In another few seconds before Severus's shock wore off, Lupin's dot disappeared, apparently going out-of-bounds.

Immediately, he set the goblet of Wolfsbane Potion down on the desk so hard that it nearly spilled over the edge, and didn't hesitate to run pell-mell out of the office and down the corridor. All thoughts of Vesperra were lost in these few moments, for this was what the year had led up to, this was the moment he had both been dreading and waiting so impatiently for… _this was it_. Black was here… _here_, and Lupin was helping him—and he had proof, actual _proof_ this time! There was no denying what the werewolf rushing down that tunnel meant…. But he had no time to retrieve Dumbledore, nor did he want to—Severus wanted to do this alone.

A flurry of emotions overwhelmed him as he ran down the staircase to get to the ground floor: dread for Potter's safety, a mad sense of being absolutely overjoyed at finally being able to catch that man, anger and loathing for Black and Lupin, hopefulness for Lily to forgive him after he avenged her… after he killed the man that had revealed her location to the Dark Lord twelve years ago….

With every echoing step his growing madness was redefined. For the life of him Severus could not believe that he was finally getting this chance, but he could not be any happier for it now. It was an extremely twisted sense of happiness, though. And had he felt sane at the moment, he'd have wished he could have told Vesperra before leaving.

His adrenaline was running in such high levels that he hardly registered his calves burning as he charged out of the front doors of the castle. Severus ran towards the Whomping Willow, which was thrashing about in the moonlit grounds, and even through his burning desire to capture Black he realized how horribly familiar this was…. Apart from the fact that the Willow was not currently still, everything about the setting, the lighting, the mood, the fact of what he was doing—all of it… it felt exactly like the night seventeen years ago when he had been tricked into going down the tunnel by the young Sirius Black in order to see what was wrong with Lupin. For a single moment, he truly felt like he had reverted back into his teenager self—his burning hatred for Black was definitely still the same. But then the strange sensation passed, and he skidded to a halt at the tree that was literally at the base of it all.

Breathing fast and hard, Severus looked frantically around to see if anyone was around; he had had the strangest feeling that someone was watching him… but there was no one. Something on the ground, however, caught his eye, and he picked it up at once. It was black, and yet it glittered in the darkness… it was solid, and yet it felt like water and as though it might slip through his fingers…. In the next moment, he knew what it was, and several things clicked in his mind, past events suddenly making sense to him: This was an Invisibility Cloak—_Potter's_ Invisibility Cloak.

But there was no time to marvel in the convenience of it or even feel the immense dread of the fact that this proved Potter was down in there closing in over his heart, so Severus seized a large branch that was nearby and, making sure to stay out of reach of the Willow's flailing branches, prodded the knot at the base that he remembered from so many years ago. They were suddenly still, and he threw the cloak over himself before crouching down and squeezing himself into the gap in the Willow's roots.

Just as it had happened last time, Severus slid down an earthy slope until the bottom of the tunnel evened out. Although, it didn't take as long, since he was now taller and somewhat heavier. And then, as quickly as he could with the cloak staying on him, he crawled down the passageway.

It felt extremely odd. The tunnel felt much smaller than it used to be, and Severus had to crawl on his hands and knees for it to be the most efficient—but what felt stranger than everything else was the fact that he was wearing what James Potter must have worn countless times. It seemed so obvious now that he was the original owner of this, and _that_ was how the Marauders had managed so much mischief without being caught in their school days—and the same with the younger Potter, who was living up to his father's name…. _Potter… Dammit, Potter, you have to get yourself in every bloody life-or-death situation, don't you? Selfish—little…_

Occasionally as he crawled, it occurred to Severus that Potter may not be still alive, but those thoughts only partially broke through his madness. He could _not_ let Potter die, especially not at the hands of that man... But even if he did, Black would still be punished. Whichever way he looked at it, Severus knew the next couple hours would be where either he caught Black and fixed everything, or where everything was royally screwed up.

An eternity later, the tunnel began to rise, and a mad smile flashed on Severus's invisible face, as he knew he was close now. The tunnel twisted, and he could then see a patch of dim light ahead through a small opening. Since he had the Invisibility Cloak on, he didn't hesitate to push himself through, but he tried to stay quiet as he did.

One look around the place wasn't necessary for him to know where he was, but he couldn't help but take it anyway. He seemed to be inside a sitting room of a house that hadn't been inhabited for years; all the furniture was broken and thrown about, the windows were boarded up, paint was peeling off the walls, and there was a thick layer of dust over everything. It was the Shrieking Shack, and though Severus had never actually stepped foot in here, it held awful memories for him.

There was creak from up ahead, and he could hear muffled voices. His heart lodging in his throat as though his subconscious wanted him to hold his breath so as to not risk being heard, he crept down the hallway from the open door to his right. Dust clouds came up every time he took a step, and they puffed sometimes from the ceiling as well. Soon, he reached a staircase, and was careful not to slip on the dust in the extremely dim lighting. The voices ahead grew louder….

And finally, he reached a door behind which he knew Black was. It had no doorknob, so it couldn't be properly closed. Heart beating fiercely, Severus made a split-second decision and, sure that no one would see him, pushed open the door.

"—how it began…" Lupin, who was standing several feet in front of the door, was saying before he broke off and turned around. Severus immediately stepped to the side and stood against the wall, making sure to keep his footsteps silent. He couldn't believe the scene in the dilapidated bedroom before him; Potter and Granger were standing and facing Lupin, Weasley was on the floor with his leg at a painful-looking angle, and Black stood closest to the large four-poster bed, staring at the ginger with a hungry, mad look. What was even stranger was that the students were the only ones with wands.

Severus kept his eyes on Black, hating the man with every fiber of his being—it took all his self-control not to reveal himself right then and curse him—bind him—_kill_ him, do _something_… Immediate vengeance was what he craved. Black looked quite the opposite from what he used to; once considered handsome by most of the girls in Hogwarts, he was now wasted away, no longer filled with arrogance but instead absolute madness.

The fact that the door had opened seemingly of its own accord did not go unnoticed, nor had Severus expected it to. All five of those in the room stared at the doorway, and Lupin strode toward it, looking out into the landing. No one gave a second glance to the spot where he was now standing.

"No one there…," said Lupin.

"This place is haunted!" said Weasley, his voice sort of a painful moan.

"It's not." Lupin was still looking at the door, puzzled, and Severus knew that he had achieved what he wanted—they would be suspicious, but they would just put it off as something strange and not bother with it after a minute. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted…. The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

At this, none of the students seemed particularly surprised or confused, so Severus surmised that they must already know about Lupin being a werewolf. This would have incensed him if he wasn't already nearly shaking with anger for Black and worrying for the students' safety. He knew that he couldn't pull off the cloak now, for they could all still be on their guard, but he was ready to fight the moment Black or Lupin tried to hurt them. As much as he hated it to just stand by and watch while Black was _right there_, he waited.

"That's where all of this starts—with my becoming a werewolf," continued Lupin, looking sober and tired. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't been bitten… and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…." Weasley opened his mouth to interrupted, but Granger hushed him and seemed to be watching the man intently. "I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform…. I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again."

Severus was listening, as he really had no choice, but he didn't take in much of what Lupin was saying. He knew, without even having to know what had gone on before he showed up, that Lupin was trying to make himself seem innocent to the children and to make them take pity on him. This was a common tactic when someone was unarmed; they would just keep talking in hopes to drag it out and take advantage of the other person when they least expected it. Whether or not those childhood werewolf stories were even true, Severus didn't care—he was waiting in agony for the perfect moment.

"Before the Wolfsbane potion was discovered, however," Lupin went on, "I became a full-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to the school…."

_And how wrong that foolish old man was, _Severus snarled inwardly._ He should have never let you inside Hogwarts…._

Then Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Potter.

"I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I came to Hogwarts. This house"—He looked with an obviously feigned miserable expression around the room,—"the tunnel that leads to it—they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone from coming across me while I was dangerous."

_That didn't work, though, did it?_ thought Severus scathingly.

"My transformations in those days were—were terrible," said Lupin. "It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor…. Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…. But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry—James Potter."

Severus felt a rush of anger aside from what he was already feeling at the mention of all of them, but continued listening to Lupin.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her…. I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth…."

_So Granger was the one to figure it out…. And you'd have saved me a lot of trouble, Granger, if only you'd told your idiot friends…,_ Severus thought, his mental voice on edge.

"And they didn't desert me at all," said Lupin. "Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" said Potter, apparently astounded to the same level that Severus was disbelieving.

"Yes, indeed. It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong—one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

This story didn't for one second pierce Severus's mind with the slightest possibility of being true; he wasn't even paying complete attention to it in the state of reeling emotions he was in. He was absolutely sure that this was just another ruse of Lupin's to prove his innocence…. Black and Potter, the cleverest students at Hogwarts? That had to be the hugest lie ever told. There was no possible way they could have become Animagi….

"But how did that help you?" said Granger, sounding confused, yet not accusative or even the least bit frightened.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," explained Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, catching Severus by surprise. Though that bastard's voice was much gruffer that it used to be after twelve years in Azkaban, he could still hear the arrogant tones somewhere deep in there.

Black hadn't taken his eyes off Weasley since Severus arrived, and was now staring at him with a more intense and murderous—and sort of hungry—look. This confused Severus greatly, more so the fact that he was looking at _Weasley_ than the fact that none of the children had seemed to react to Black's statement that so obviously meant for Lupin to hurry up and kill Potter…. They must have been Confunded, and powerfully so. Though a small part of him feared that Potter had foolishly come to trust the other two men of his own accord, the rest of him, already half-lost to madness, was sure that the Confundus Charm was the only explanation.

_Then why keep them talking?_ asked a voice inside Severus's head. _If they're Confunded so powerfully, what's the point of Lupin continuing to explain?_ Well, perhaps the werewolf was just as mad as he was.

"I'm getting there, Sirius," assured Lupin, "I'm getting there… well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students found out more about the Hogwarts grounds than we did…. And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

It should have occurred to Severus that the Animagi story made a lot of sense when considering their nicknames, but he was beyond rational thought now. He simply refused to believe it.

"What sort of animal—?" Potter started to say, but Granger cut him off.

"That's still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless—carried away with or own cleverness." He sighed. "I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course… he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other Headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…."

Lupin's face hardened, and was briefly a scowl reminiscent of Vesperra's almost permanent expression. There was self-disgust in his voice as he continued—but it didn't fool Severus:

"All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Severus stiffened at the mention of his name.

"Snape?" growled Black harshly, looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin. At this, Severus's heart stopped and he very nearly tore the cloak off—until he realized what the werewolf meant. "He's teaching here as well." Looking up at Potter, Weasley, and Granger, he said, "Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons… you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me—"

A derisive noise from the back of Black's throat interrupted Lupin, and he sneered, "It served him right. Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to… hoping to get us expelled…."

Severus felt his hatred for Black increase, the fire rearing up inside of him like a distressed horse.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Lupin told the trio. "We were in the same year, you know, and we—er—didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field… anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be—er—amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it—if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf—but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…."

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Potter slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

His anger having built up for too long and too quickly—especially at the explanation of his own near-death from Lupin, Severus had made the decision before Potter had even finished his sentence.

"That's right," sneered Severus, for a moment a disembodied voice in the wall before he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, revealing himself with his wand already pointed directly at Lupin's chest.

All at once, Granger screamed, Black leapt to his feet, and Potter, Weasley, and Lupin all stiffened but otherwise didn't move—not that the latter two even had a choice.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," Severus said, holding up the cloak for a split second and throwing it aside. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…."

He was slightly breathless as he stood—not because it was taking so long for him to catch his breath from the run up here, but because he was feeling an overwhelming sense of triumph. It could not be contained inside him, as he had never felt quite such satisfaction before; out of habit, he suppressed the triumph in his face, but it was still obvious from the fact that he was starting to hunch over, chest heaving intensely.

"You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" said Severus, his eyes glittering maliciously as he swept them quickly across the room. It was a habit, he realized, to explain all that you've done to get to a certain point when you had the upper hand and had lost a bit of sanity like he had. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did… lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus—" Lupin began, but whatever he had intended to say was lost to Severus's icy voice echoing in the dusty room of the Shrieking Shack.

"I've told the Headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Sirius is not here to kill Harry—"

But he wasn't listening.

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Severus, his eyes gleaming still more fanatically and his voice becoming somewhat more nasal. The base thoughts circling his mind were, _This is finally happening, I finally have him, right here… his throat might as well be beneath my hand—_both_ their throats._ "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this…. He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a _tame_ werewolf—"

"You fool," said Lupin softly, his voice betraying the first hint of anger Severus had heard all year. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

The werewolf's words pushed Severus's anger to the limit—_You don't know the _half_ of it, you son of a bitch… _And in the very next moment, he used a non-verbal curse that caused thin, snakelike cords to burst from the end of his wand with a loud BANG, and they twisted around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles. Unable to stay balanced or move at all, he fell over and landed on the floor with a dull _thunk_.

At that, Black roared with rage and started towards Severus—but that was extremely stupid, considering he was unarmed. Severus shifted his stance swiftly and pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. His self-control was waning.

"Give me a reason," he whispered venomously and loathingly, staring straight into the sunken, dark grey eyes of the man who had good as murdered Lily Evans. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will." Black stopped dead.

For several drawn-out seconds to make up for the years of being unable to express their mutual loathing directly to one another, Severus and Black stared each other down. Severus wanted nothing more than to see the light leave this man's eyes in a flash of green light—nothing more than to have his justice on this man for all he had ever done… and he was not past murder at all. The only thing that kept him from killing him on the spot was the prospect of giving him a better punishment, worse than death….

What brought him out of his haze of loathing and pain was Granger taking an uncertain step towards him and, rather breathlessly, saying, "Professor Snape—it—it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w—would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," he spat, jerking his head to the side but still keeping his wand pointed at Black's face. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue_." He realized the cruelty in his voice as he said it, and felt slightly more triumphant as well. There would be no getting out of _this_ punishment for those brats….

"But if—if there was a mistake—"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" shouted Severus, his face twisting; he looked suddenly quite as deranged as he felt. It was the anger, the years of anger, overflowing and taking charge. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

In his fury, a few sparks flew out of the end of his wand and nearly ignited Black's hair. Finally, the damned little know-it-all shut up. She did not understand at all… There was so much more to this than what she might have heard from Lupin. She could not have known that Black's actions had _ruined his life_….

"Vengeance is very sweet," Severus breathed at Black, having suppressed his fury somewhat and let his face's contortion relax. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…."

"The joke's on you again," snarled Black. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle"—he jerked his head towards Weasley—"I'll come quietly…."

The mention of a rat once again did not register to Severus.

"Up to the castle?" he said silkily, momentarily feeling like his usual self. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…."

This was not a student, and so the fear was not what Severus intended, but Black's reaction was nevertheless sadistically pleasing to him; he blanched, and appeared as though he suddenly could not breathe.

"You—you got to hear me out," croaked Black. "The rat—look at the rat—"

But he still wasn't listening. There was a horribly mad glint in Severus's eyes—the sort that he'd have been extremely afraid to see in Vesperra, and he was beyond reason. _Nothing_ was going to stop him now that he'd gotten so far—he wouldn't let it.

"Come on, all of you," said Severus shortly. He snapped his fingers, and the end of the cords that bound Lupin, who stared hopelessly and pleadingly up at him, flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too—"

Unexpectedly, Potter crossed the room in three strides and stood defiantly in front of the door. Severus was almost too shocked to be angry.

"Get out of the way, Potter," he snarled, "you're in enough trouble already. If I hadn't been here to save your skin—"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Potter said impertinently, bordering on aggravatingly simply by having interrupted him. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

Had the situation been different, Severus would have cared more about the proof that he had been correct in guessing Lupin had taught Potter how to cast a Patronus.

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," he hissed, though that had been exactly what he'd been trying to do all year. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Potter yelled at once; the firmness in Severus's voice that would generally scare any student into doing as he told them had not seemed to faze him. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—"

"SILENCE!" shrieked Severus, looking and feeling angrier than he would have thought possible—pushed far beyond the boundaries of sanity. "I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT! Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well-served if he'd killed you!" Seething, Severus realized that this was a large part of what he had wanted for years. Part of him wanted the boy to know how much he had risked and sacrificed so far to make sure he lived, and for Potter to thank him. If only the boy just _thanked_ him for once, and proved _not_ to be exactly like his father…

"You'd have died like your father," continued Severus without pause, "too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black—now get out of the way, or I will _make you_. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

When the boy made absolutely no movement to get out of the way, Severus started to take a step toward him—but then, giving him absolutely no time to react, Potter raised his wand and, along with Weasley and Granger, shouted "_Expelliarmus!_"

He had not expected it in the least; even if he had, however, he may not have been able to defend himself from three disarming spells at the same time. This vague thought was lost in the second's worth of infuriation and horror Severus felt as he soared backwards, his wand no longer in his hand, towards the wall.

The moment his head collided with the wall, the dim light around him quickly diminished. All conscious thought vanished, and darkness engulfed him.


	46. Book 3: Chapter 18

**Second half! Make sure to read the A/N at the end.**

* * *

After dinner, Vesperra was surprised when Nott suddenly seemed to be avoiding her again and didn't try to finish what he was going to say to her. She wasn't disappointed, but simply confused at Nott's behavior. But she didn't think too much of it, because she was distracted by more important things—talking to Severus.

Their conversation through the journals lasted a while, and Vesperra was sure it was going to last well into the night—but then Severus told her it might be ten to twenty minutes before he wrote back, since he had to go give Lupin his Wolfsbane Potion. Twenty minutes turned into half an hour, which turned into an hour….

* * *

When Severus regained consciousness, there was a horrible pain in his head—both on the front, where it was throbbing, and on the side, where it seemed he had a cut. Dried blood was caked on the side of his face, and there were several small cuts on his forehead as well. He clapped a hand to his head and made to leap to his feet, but then he realized that he was already standing—or rather, floating in a standing position in mid-air.

Seconds later, his consciousness made the spell lose effect and he fell a foot to the ground. The night around him was extremely dark now, and the only light came from the windows of the castle. About thirty feet behind him was the Whomping Willow, standing completely still.

Severus looked frantically around for his wand, which he felt completely vulnerable without, and thankfully found it lying nearby. He hardly had time to feel as angry as he wanted to about being bested by three children and Lupin and Black escaping his grip, because he quickly noticed that Weasley was on the ground, motionless. His eyes were only half-closed and his mouth was hanging open, his breathing audible—Severus recognized the curse, and knew that it was a common one for Death Eaters. Black must have done it…. And, what had happened to Potter and Granger? _Merlin, no…_

But then he glanced upward and froze at what he saw. There were at least a hundred dementors drifting eerily through the sky—they appeared to be returning to their posts at the entrances to the grounds, rather than going _towards_ anyone, namely Black…. Knowing that there was only one thing to do and that he'd be wasting time otherwise, Severus immediately conjured a stretcher and levitated Weasley onto it, then held his wand up as he ran in the direction of where the dementors had seemed to be leaving from: the lake.

Weasley on the stretcher floating at his side and following, Severus reached the lake's edge on charged energy. To his immense relief, he saw three bodies lying on the bank; they were the limp forms of Potter, Granger, and Black. All three of them were still clearly alive, and Severus's triumph was enough to override the sinking feeling of Potter almost having died _again_ and the confusion of why the dementors had retreated.

So it wasn't all lost… He hadn't done all that for nothing. Now he really _did _have Black at his mercy…. The man was unconscious, powerless… and _he_ finally had him.

Conjuring three more stretchers and levitating Black (who he first bound and gagged), Potter, and Granger onto them, Severus felt the mad desire to laugh. _Well,_ he thought as he started towards the castle, holding his wand in front of him, _I can laugh later, after he's received the Kiss… and Vesperra can join in._

Soon, he reached the castle doors, and found the Entrance Hall to be completely empty. As he brought the unconscious students and Black to the Hospital Wing, he sent a Patronus to Dumbledore to tell him that he had Black. Severus thought of what the old man would think now that he was proven wrong….

The Hospital Wing was deserted when he got there, but the noise evidently alerted Madam Pomfrey almost immediately (either that, or she had some sort of alarm every time someone entered the room), as she rushed out of her office no longer than a half a minute later.

"Professor Sna—" she began to say before stopping dead, her eyes widening. "_My word_, what—is… is that—?"

"Sirius Black, yes," confirmed Severus with a thin-lipped smirk. "I don't have time to explain—but Potter, Weasley, and Granger are all unconscious. They need treatment." He lowered each of the children onto beds, Vanishing the stretchers as he did.

Still gawping, Madam Pomfrey rushed over to them. "What happened to them?—Did Black do this? Why were they—?"

"Weasley was cursed by Black, and the other two passed out from dementors."

"It's a miracle they're still alive…," she breathed, starting to wave her wand over Potter and mutter under her breath. "Or rather, lucky that you were there to save them, Professor."

There were a few seconds of silence before the door to the Hospital Wing burst open, and both Severus and the matron whipped their heads around. Dumbledore was striding in, looking grave yet impressive, and following him was Cornelius Fudge in his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his bowler hat, as well as Macnair, who Severus recognized from his Death Eater days. He knew that the latter two had come to the school to carry out the execution of a hippogriff, but he hadn't thought they would still be here. Well, this made things a hell of a lot more convenient, so he wasn't complaining.

"Bloody hell," rasped Macnair.

"Dear Merlin!" exclaimed Fudge upon walking a few feet into the Hospital Wing. The Minister dropped his bowler hat on the floor—and had Macnair been holding his executioner's axe, Severus thought he might have dropped it as well. His shock seemed to be overwhelming what should have been relief. "You really have caught him! And the Ministry's been after him for almost a year—but—_how_?"

"I will explain it all, Minister," said Severus, "but we should get Black somewhere confined, first, before he receives the Kiss—"

"Professor Flitwick's office will suffice," said Dumbledore. Severus thought it slightly odd that the Headmaster had not spoken until now. "Filius is away for the night—I am sure he will not mind, it is in a high enough tower that it will be impossible for him to escape, and I would like to question him."

"Yes, yes, very well then—I suppose… we'll go immediately," said Fudge, still apparently too shocked to react properly. "Although I'm not sure what you want to question him for, Dumbledore—we already know what he's done—"

"But it is often helpful to know all sides of a story, Cornelius. There are other things I want to ask him, anyway," said Dumbledore calmly. Then, turning to Madam Pomfrey, who had just opened her mouth, he said, "Forgive us, Poppy—we will leave and disturb you no longer."

As the three of them left (four, if you counted Black), Severus felt sure that Dumbledore would ask him what had happened to Potter, Weasley, and Granger, but the old man stayed silent, presumably to let Severus get to that information on his own time. And so, as they were heading to Flitwick's office at a swift walk, he only had time to tell them the major events and not many details. In his explanation, however, he included the fact that Lupin had transformed while he was unconscious and was currently running around somewhere on the school grounds.

By the time he was finished with the condensed version of the story, they were halfway up the tightly spiraling staircase that led up the West Tower to Flitwick's office. Dumbledore nodded solemnly and looked deep in thought, Macnair was looking at Black with a wicked grin as he had been the whole time, and Fudge said, "Unbelievable… and so strange that it would all happen tonight. And to think, Potter nearly died when the whole of Wizarding Britain's been putting in their best to protect him!"

When they reached Flitwick's office, Severus Vanished the stretcher Black was on and let him fall straight to the stone floor, still unconscious. With a flick of his wand, Black was no longer bound and gagged, and then Dumbledore stepped forward.

"I think I will take it from here," he said casually. "If I may ask you three to leave—I want to question him alone."

"Very well, Dumbledore," said Fudge, stepping backwards towards the door. He closed it once the other two men were out, and said, "Macnair, go fetch the dementors, as quickly as you can…. Ugh, I can't imagine a more stressful night—and yet, relieving all the same…."

The executioner nodded and hurried ahead of them. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Severus remembered something.

"Do you mind, Minister, if I leave you for a few minutes?" he asked. "There's something personal that I must take care of—I was in the middle of something just before I headed out to the grounds, and it cannot wait—"

"Of course, of course…," said Fudge, waving an airy hand in spite of his still nervous-looking face. "Go on and take care of your business. I'll be back at the Hospital Wing to check on the students…."

After a short nod, Severus began walking very quickly towards the nearest entrance to the dungeons. He hurried to his office, where his journal still lay on his desk, seemingly forgotten. There were two messages from Vesperra written on there:

_**It's been a half an hour, Severus. Is everything okay?**_

_**Severus? Are you there? Please tell me you're okay…**_

Imagining that she must have felt the same sort of worry that he had felt when she never answered his message at the end of her first year, Severus frowned and mentally hit himself for forgetting her. But it would all be worth it, for she would surely understand this…. So he quickly wrote:

_Vesperra, I'm extremely sorry that I didn't reply earlier. I know you may very well be asleep right now, and I'll tell you the full details later, but I've caught Black. He will receive the Kiss tonight, and it's likely that Lupin will as well. Don't write back for the rest of the night, because I have things to attend to._

Slashing the corner and causing the inked words to sink into the page, he immediately ran out the door again and returned to the Hospital Wing.

"Oh—Snape!" said Fudge when he turned a corner and arrived outside the ward. "I was beginning to worry, you were gone so long."

"I apologize, Minister—"

"Oh, no need! It's just irrational worry, you know, from all that's happened tonight. I admit I'm still a bit shaken…. Shocking business… shocking… miracle none of them died… never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…."

"Thank you, Minister."

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, I'd say. First class, if I can wangle it!"

Severus imagined himself with an Order of Merlin, which would just be another accomplishment on top of finally avenging Lily…. He thought of the recognition he would gain in the Wizarding World—he would be thanked by students and teachers alike…. And what he looked forward to more than anything else was how proud Vesperra would be of him.

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there…," said Fudge, gesturing to the side of Severus's head, which was still caked in blood. "Black's work, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact," Severus said silkily, "it was Potter, Weasley, and Granger, Minister…."

"_No!_"

"Black bewitched them, I saw it immediately." There was a hint of self-satisfaction in his voice, as he couldn't help but be happy at how so many things were going his way tonight—including the prospect of the trio's punishment. "A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions. On the other hand, their interference might have permitted Black to escape…. They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got away with a great deal before now…. I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves… and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the Headmaster—"

"Ah, well, Snape… Harry Potter, you know… we've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned," said Fudge a little sheepishly. Severus's lip curled slightly.

"And yet—is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended—at the very least—for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister—against all school rules—after all the precautions put in place for his protection—out-of-bounds, at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer—and I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too—"

"Well, well… we shall see, Snape, we shall see…," the Minister said, glancing around and apparently thinking hard about something. Severus was very grateful for the Ministry having power over suspensions, since he knew Dumbledore would never have punished Potter, no matter what the brat did. "The boy has undoubtedly been foolish…. What amazes me most is the behavior of the dementors… you've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister… by the time I had come 'round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances…." Well, Severus knew that it must have been an extremely powerful Patronus, but the question was _who_ had conjured it.

"Extraordinary. And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl—"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them. I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers, and brought them all back straight to the castle."

"That was certainly some quick thinking on your part…. And what about Weasley? What exactly happened to him?"

"I wasn't conscious when it happened, Minister, but I'm sure that was Black's doing. It was very Dark Magic…. He'll heal overnight, though."

"Good, good…. I must say, I cannot begin to think of what would have happened if you hadn't shown up—"

But then, a loud shout of "WHAT?" in Potter's voice came from inside the Hospital Wing, and Fudge jumped in alarm. He then opened the door all the way and the both of them entered the ward after exchanging a confused look.

Potter and Granger were standing up in front of their beds, fully conscious and looking angry.

"Harry, Harry, what's this?" said Fudge, looking agitated. "You should be in bed—" He turned to Madam Pomfrey anxiously. "—has he had any chocolate?"

"Minister, listen!" said Potter urgently. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's—"

Severus's lip curled—mostly out of annoyance and anger that Potter would be trying to ruin it all for him, and Fudge was shaking his head with a sympathetic smile on his somewhat wrinkled face.

"Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got everything under control…."

"YOU HAVEN'T!" yelled Potter, startling Severus. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

Granger hurried to Potter's side and gazed imploringly and desperately at Fudge. "Minister, listen, please…. I saw him too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus, Pettigrew, I mean, and—"

"You see, Minister?" sneered Severus. He had kept Lupin's entire Animagi explanation from Fudge for fear that he might consider it, and he wanted it to stay that way. "Confunded, both of them…. Black's done a very good job on them…."

"WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" roared Potter. He looked like he might have yelled again, but then Madam Pomfrey stepped forward.

"Minister! Professor!" she said angrily. "I must insist that you leave. Potter is my patient, and he should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed," argued Potter furiously before Severus or Fudge could say anything, "I'm trying to tell them what happened! If they'd just listen—"

The matron then stuffed a huge chunk of chocolate in his mouth, nearly choking but effectively silencing him, and forced him back onto the bed. "Now, _please,_ Minister, these children need care. Please leave—"

The door opened again, and it was Dumbledore. Potter got up again, and was the first one to address him: "Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black—"

"For heaven's sake!" said Madam Pomfrey hysterically. "Is this a Hospital Wing or not? Headmaster, I must insist—"

"My apologies, Poppy," said Dumbledore, "but I need a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I have just been talking to Sirius Black—"

But Severus had an idea of what was happening, and half-panicked, half-lashed out. "I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind? Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive—"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," confirmed Dumbledore. The old man seemed to survey him, judging by the twinkle in his piercing blue eyes—almost as though he was trying to decide whether or not Severus was mentally healthy.

"And does my evidence count for nothing?" snarled Severus. "Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds."

"That was because you were knocked out, Professor!" pressed Granger, at which Severus jerked his head over to her and his eyes flashed. "You didn't arrive in time to hear—"

"Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

"Now, Snape," said Fudge, obviously startled, "the young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances—"

"I would like to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," interrupted Dumbledore, seeming to have realized Severus was about to retort. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy—please leave us."

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey sputtered. "They need treatment, they need rest—"

"This cannot wait. I must insist."

Looking awfully resentful, the matron pursed her lips and said nothing more as she strode to her office and slammed the door behind her. Fudge then consulted his pocketwatch, and said, "The dementors should have arrived by now. I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs." He went to the door immediately and held it open, but Severus was still, and had his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" he whispered, dread seeping into him once more. He was almost drowning in it—Severus couldn't stand the idea of having come this far and then Dumbledore just ruining it all…. But he already knew the answer to his question.

"I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," Dumbledore repeated. This was clearly a yes.

Taking a step towards the old man, Severus was almost robbed of his voice in his contained fury. "Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill _me_?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly, yet somewhat warningly.

At that, Severus knew he wasn't going to get anything else—no, it was never anything but a vague turn of phrase from that man…. But he still knew it meant that Dumbledore was going to look past Black's crimes. It angered him beyond anything—but, knowing that he couldn't say anything else, he turned on his heel and marched through the open door, then Fudge closed it and caught up with him.

"Snape, what's this about Black trying to kill you at sixteen?" asked Fudge—and rather insensitively, Severus thought.

It was a few long moments before he answered in a growl, "It was a prank of sorts, and I won't go into detail. Black was a menace at school—he did things like this extremely often, and this particular prank would have resulted in my death."

He didn't want to say anymore about it, and his hardened expression as he walked showed that enough.

"Hm… From what I've always heard, Black was a generally good student, only a bit of a trouble-maker—but I'm more grateful than you can imagine that you caught Black—and single-handedly, too! That's no small feat, especially when all the Aurors couldn't even find him…."

"I don't think the Aurors would have thought to look in the Shrieking Shack, which is where I believe he has been hiding for several months," said Severus. "Even I didn't think he would—I had only originally gone after Lupin tonight, suspecting he was going to help Black."

"I still can't believe Dumbledore hired a werewolf—and without the Ministry's permission! Of course, there's no law against it, and he has the right to hire whoever he wants—but for Dumbledore to think him trustworthy…" In place of a proper ending to his sentence, Fudge sighed. "But I suppose he had a good reason for wanting to question Black. Even if it won't necessarily help, he'd have wanted to know exactly how Lupin was involved and how Black got into the castle."

Thinking of how the Headmaster was so foolishly eager to trust and how he was talking to Potter and Granger at this moment about who knows what, Severus nearly scowled, and said, "And many others would be just as curious and desperate to know how their protections had failed…. I only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties. The Kiss will be performed immediately?"

"As soon as Macnair returns with the dementors," said Fudge. "This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the _Daily Prophet_ that we've got him at last…. I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape… and once young Harry's back in his right mind, I expect he'll want to tell the _Prophet_ exactly how you saved him…."

Severus highly doubted that last part, but smirked at the thought of being interviewed. He and Fudge passed the tower where Black was being held, and continued to walk in the direction of the Entrance Hall. As they did, Severus realized one thing: it really didn't matter what Dumbledore did; he had no power over the Ministry, and Potter's story was hardly believable.

They met up with Macnair at the front doors within the minute, and he had two dementors floating creepily at his sides. The rest of them were no longer at the edges of the grounds but instead swarming around at random. Dumbledore's rule that none of those foul creatures would enter the castle still held, and so Fudge sent Macnair to go get Black.

Though he'd have preferred not to wait near the dementors, where there was a horrible chill in the air, Severus stood and waited impatiently. He found his chest expanding more with each intake of breath, anticipating what was to come…. _Lily, you'll be avenged within minutes… _within minutes….

When they heard running footsteps less than ten minutes later, Severus's heart stopped and he nearly smiled madly—but then Macnair came into view, and he was alone.

"Gone!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air, looking both baffled and angry. "Black's not there! The window's open, but—but he couldn't have escaped that way…. He's just bloody disappeared!"

"Gone?" Severus echoed, his pupils shrinking and his breath shortening. _No… NO_—"He _can't _be!"

Suddenly filled with energy-fueling fury, he dashed down the corridor that Macnair had come from. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he was able to run at breakneck speed up the staircase and reach Flitwick's office without having to catch his breath or stop from dizziness. Once there, Severus saw that the small room was, indeed, empty. But it was impossible—the door and the window had been locked….

At once, Severus began sprinting around the office, searching frantically for some clue as to how Black had escaped. Making a racket, he was practically tearing Flitwick's office apart, and was taking no care to be discreet. He had just _lost Black_—how could he care about being discreet?

"NO!" he shouted in internal agony as well as fury and frustration to the extreme, kicking a chair over, which fell which a resounding CRASH.

"Snape, is—_what have you done_?" Fudge came running in, and looked around at the mess. "What is this?"

"There's nothing, NOTHING, in here!" yelled Severus, drowning in horrible loss and only able to keep himself above the surface through anger. "Black's escaped, he's gone, he's—ARGHH!" Unable to contain it, he kicked a box. "The _only_ way he could have escaped was by someone helping him…."

"This—oh, this is just horrible!" said Fudge with both anger and hopelessness. "He's gotten away _again_, just when we had him, and now what are we supposed—?"

But terrible, dawning realization had formed on Severus's face, which quickly contorted into an expression of absolute madness.

"POTTER!" he shouted abruptly. His feet carried him in a single leap towards the door, and he heard Fudge yell and run after him as he tore off down the staircase.

"What—Potter? Snape, what does—?"

"SOMEONE HAD TO HELP BLACK ESCAPE! HE DID _NOT_ GET OUT ANY OTHER WAY, THERE WAS NO WAY—"

"But who would help him?" said Fudge, who ran as fast as his portly body could go in order to follow Severus.

Dumbledore then entered the scene from a nearby corridor, and Severus slowed to a quick walk. The old man walked by his side.

"What is the meaning of all this?" the Headmaster asked, though much more calmly than he should have. "You'll wake the entire castle—"

"So there's finally something you _don't_ know!" hissed Severus. "Black escaped—after all that we did—he's gone! And I know who did it—it's the same person it always is—"

"He must have Disapparated, Severus," said Dumbledore. They were nearing the Hospital Wing now…. "We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out—"

It was as though the man was _trying_ to make this harder on him.

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Severus roared, and yet still not releasing all that he felt at the moment. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS—HAS—SOMETHING—TO—DO—WITH—POTTER!"

"Severus—be reasonable—Harry has been locked up—"

Ignoring Dumbledore, Severus kicked the door to the Hospital Wing open, and he, Fudge, and the Headmaster strode inside.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed, absolutely beside himself as he closed in on the boy's bed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey, looking quite shocked. "Control yourself!"

But she didn't know…. If she knew that he had just lost the chance to redeem himself after so many years of almost a waste of an existence, and the chance to avenge the death of Lily Evans… she wouldn't have been telling _him_ to control himself.

"See here, Snape, be reasonable," importuned Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw—"

"THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" he howled, his face twisted in rage, spit actually flying from his mouth. The back of his throat had grown so dry from yelling that he was not attempting to control his salivary glands.

"Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. The Minister seemed to be rethinking his judgment on Severus. "You're talking nonsense!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER! HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT—"

"That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly, yet clearly enough to stop him. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?"

"Of course not!" she said, bristling. "I would have heard them!"

"Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore in the oh-so calm way that had angered Severus so many times before. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

Once again, that bloody old codger had left Severus with nothing to say—nothing that would make a reasonable argument, anyway. He still believed—no—_knew_ that Potter and Granger had done it, but he had no solid proof. And he knew by the way Dumbledore spoke that he knew what he was saying was a lie, but he couldn't prove that, either—at least not right now, in front of everybody else.

Seething, he stood there, and stared hopelessly from Fudge to Dumbledore. It took great difficultly, but he finally wrenched himself from his spot, whirling about, and stormed through the threshold of the Hospital Wing. His robes billowed behind him, now lamely in comparison to his defeat, as he strode back to his office.

_It can't—no—I can't have lost it all—NO, dammit…_ Black. The student's punishments. Severus had gone through so much tonight, only to have it all slip through his fingers yet again. He felt like tearing apart his own office in the fury of it, he wanted to yell, to punch the wall so that his hand hurt and thus distracted him from the mental pain, to _kill _something….

But he didn't. He forced himself to sit down on the couch in his office when he entered, and then held his head in his hands. Again, he was clutching so hard at his hair that he was ripping some of it out. Right now, he realized, he needed to drink. He wanted to drink until there was no more feeling inside him. And Severus had only just stood up to cross the room to his bedroom door and go get a bottle of Firewhiskey before he noticed something on his desk that made him rethink it all.

The journal was still open, and Vesperra hadn't written back, just as he told her not to. _Vesperra…_ She was a reason not to get drunk. She, alone, was the reason he _would not_ get drunk…. Severus had hardly spoken to her in the past week, and he was _not_ going to ruin her day for her by letting her find him hungover in the morning. There was so much he needed to explain to her—and so much he wanted explained to him….

He refused to believe that a word of Potter and Black's stories were true, and fumed, as he returned to sit on his couch, over how everything had turned out. Everything had taken a horrible turn once Dumbledore interfered…. All he had left was Lupin. The werewolf would still be running around the grounds, and he would not let this go unnoticed. And he may not have been able to get Potter suspended (at least, not after he flipped out in front of Fudge), but there was always the indirect punishments he often did. That boy would definitely be failing his Potions exam.

It seemed impossible for him to fall asleep that night, especially with him half-thinking Dumbledore could show up at any time to explain things. He wasn't sure whether it was twenty minutes or several hours later, but Severus sat, drowning in his own fury and confusion for the longest time before he slipped into unconsciousness some time during the night.

* * *

Vesperra, too, had found it difficult to fall asleep—or rather, back asleep. The first time, she had been confused and worried for Severus, and was clutching her journal. She had woken with it thumping against her ribs, and couldn't believe what she was hearing and reading when she saw the message. Part of her had even been disappointed that it had all happened while she was in her dorm, asleep for part of it, unaware; it just felt so anticlimactic that the event the year had led up to would occur while she was asleep.

Afterwards, she had lain in bed awake, thinking of the possibilities and impatient for Severus to tell her. Even though she hadn't known the details, she couldn't help but feel extremely proud of him, and extremely happy that Black had been caught. Now, she could finally relax, and there was no more stress… and it was with that that she eventually fell asleep again.

The next morning, she woke up a few hours before the rest of the school would be at breakfast despite having both fallen asleep quite late and been on very little sleep throughout the week. Anxious to talk to Severus, she dressed and was already headed out the door within two minutes. For a moment she was confused when she reached the Common Room and saw that those who were already in there looked calm, but then she realized that she was the only student who knew about Black's capture.

Once she reached the corridors, she broke into a quick jog, and soon made it to Severus's office door. Hoping that he was in there and not with the Headmaster, she knocked.

* * *

He had to admit, he wasn't necessarily thrilled when he was woken up by that knock. Although Severus wanted to speak with her—even craved her presence above anything else, he knew that his explanation would put them in a state of mutual frustration. Nevertheless, he stood from the couch and opened the door.

"Vesperra," said Severus upon seeing her. He opened the door wider and pulled her in gently by the shoulder, and as he did, she noticed that he seemed a bit subdued. She was confused, for she had expected him to be overjoyed (in a suppressed way, of course), but she didn't question him about it as he closed and Imperturbed the door.

"Severus!" she breathed, still trying to catch her breath. "Tell me everything—I want to know exactly what happened. Has Black already been Kissed? Has—"

"He—" Severus's expression twisted into loathing both for Black and himself, and he looked away from Vesperra for a moment. "He escaped. Black escaped late last night before he could be Kissed."

"_What?_" Unintentionally, Vesperra's voice had risen and become a higher pitch. Her face fell into a look of shock and horror. "But he can't have—_please_ tell me you're joking, Severus—"

"I'm not joking, Vesperra," he said in a low growl. For another few seconds he didn't say anything, but merely scowled at the thought of his failure. Then, he took Vesperra's shoulder in his hand almost roughly and walked to the couch, sitting down with her at his side. Her expression was still one of horror as she looked at the floor and shook her head slightly, trying to make sense of it all.

"But—this doesn't—_what happened_?" she said, looking up at Severus at the last two words. Before he could open his mouth to respond, however, her eyes moved to the side of his head that she was facing and widened—as did her mouth. "Oh my God—_Severus_!" she gasped, jumping up in her seat and moving closer with him to grab his face. There was a nasty cut obvious from beneath his long, lank, black hair, and dried blood was caked on the side of his face.

As she cupped his opposite cheek in one hand and carefully moved strands of his hair aside with the other, looking worriedly all over that side of his head, Severus was vaguely reminded of Madam Pomfrey and how fussy she could be. It was enough to calm him, just as Vesperra's presence always did by itself—but his heart lifted a little at the amount of care she was showing for him.

"Don't worry, Vesperra, it's nothing," he said quietly, though not pushing her away.

"But—shouldn't you go to Madam Pomfrey?" persisted Vesperra, not reassured. "Or—don't you have any Dittany?"

Severus sighed. "It's not any current danger to me and I'm not in pain, but if it'll make you feel better, I'll heal myself."

He'd have preferred to wait until later, after he explained everything to her, but the way she was looking at him made him feel compelled to do it now. In a few minutes, he had a vial of Essence of Dittany, which he applied to the cut on his head in a few drops, and then he took a wet rag and wiped the dried blood off so that he looked like nothing had ever happened.

"And now," said Severus as he sat back down, his tone lowering with bitterness and resignation, "I need to tell you about last night."

It took a very long time to repeat to her all that he had told Fudge and Dumbledore, but this time including many more details as well as what had happened after he had returned to the castle. Her expression grew angrier and angrier towards the end, and he couldn't blame her.

"…And that was it," he finished, uncoiling and leaning back on his couch. "I'm still confused, and I just _know_ Potter did it—"

"And after all that you did… You've been after him all year, and he just escapes?" Her tone was angrily questioning, and she looked around the room as she clenched her fingers like claws, as though she was asking some higher power why they would play such a cruel trick.

She was just as angry at Potter, Granger, and Weasley for ruining everything—_and_ for attacking Severus. But really, she was angry at everyone; Dumbledore, Black, Fudge, Lupin…

Noticing that Severus's chest was rising and falling tensely, and that his fingers were clenching and unclenching, she forced herself to calm down, slid the fingers of her right hand in between his, and leaned close into him. She let her left hand simply lay on his chest.

"You don't suppose Dumbledore will just explain everything to us later, do you?" muttered Vesperra, feeling his heart rate slow down under her hand.

If his arm hadn't been stuck in between his side and Vesperra's stomach, Severus would have thrown it around her and pulled her closer. He settled for squeezing her hand and raising his other to cover the one she had over his heart.

"I think he will," he said, "but I doubt it will be the entire story. And it will have to be later, because most of the castle will be at breakfast soon—and today's a Hogsmeade day."

To his surprise, Vesperra didn't even give it a moment's consideration before saying, "I'm not going. I'm staying here with you." And she didn't say it, but they both knew what would have come after—_because you need me_.

Both of them could feel his heart skip a beat, but only Severus was aware of the smile twitching at the edge of his lips. "Thank you."

* * *

Soon afterwards, they had left the dungeons separately and resentfully to head up to the Great Hall. Facing the prospect of seeing Dumbledore was difficult for Severus, however much he wanted to question the man, and it was with dread and increasing anger that he headed to the staffroom before breakfast. The whole of the staff seemed to be speaking rapidly about the events that had taken place, and they all snapped their heads over to the door as he stepped in.

No one dared say anything to him, for Severus wasn't displaying an expression that was hard to read. Brushing off the awkwardness, they continued their conversations in quieter tones. Severus walked in farther, keeping his arms folded over his chest, and almost immediately spotted Dumbledore, who was approaching him as though having waited for him to come.

"Ah, Severus—I realize you're still very angry with me, and I don't blame you, but I figured I should tell you before this wears off," said Dumbledore, staring calmly at him through his half-moon spectacles. He apparently interpreted Severus's lack of reaction as a "Please, go on," for he continued, "Cornelius wanted me to tell you that—well, 'an Order of Merlin won't be in your future.' I'm truly sorry, Severus, but he seemed to think you had a screw loose."

It was another loss, another blow at his wall of self-control, but not nearly strong enough to break it and cause him to explode in front of the staff. However, though he had already expected this loss, Severus did feel an extreme disappointment and a rush of resentment. Now he wasn't even going to be recognized for his heroics, and Vesperra would have no reason to feel proud of him. This meant he had achieved absolutely _nothing_ the night before.

"And Potter?" he snapped. "_He_ didn't have a screw loose? Oh, and I suppose Lupin's not a werewolf, either—he's just a harmless puppy!"

"Actually, Severus," began Dumbledore in a tone that Severus didn't like, "Fudge does not think badly of Remus—not after I spoke with him, anyway. It took very much coercing, but he believes the truth: Remus was trying to save their lives."

"_Help?_" hissed Severus. "He was _not_, you—"

"I spoke with Remus earlier this morning," intoned Dumbledore firmly. "His story adds up with everything I have learned, and I still trust him. I understand you are confused, Severus, but I will explain it all to you later, after breakfast."

And the Headmaster left Severus where he stood, fuming and at a loss for words. He could not fathom how Dumbledore could possibly still trust the werewolf, especially after he had neglected to take his potion and had been loose on the grounds last night….

Just then, the staffroom door opened again, and the werewolf himself stepped through, looking especially rugged and shabby. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and his face was extremely pale; but Severus hadn't expected Lupin to show up at breakfast the day after a full moon. Without taking a second look at him, he followed Dumbledore through the door that led to the Great Hall.

The hour was stiff and uncomfortable, and Severus was constantly glancing loathingly over at Lupin. He was only at breakfast out of habit and as a formality, and was hardly even hungry for the seemingly dry food that he was shoving down his throat. Near the time that everyone would be leaving the castle for Hogsmeade, however, he was struck with an idea; he only hoped it wouldn't backfire on him.

When it was twenty minutes to eleven, there was a mass amount of shuffling as the majority of students began to get to their feet. Casually, Severus stood as well, and, rather than exiting immediately out of the door to the staffroom behind him, he stepped off the platform and strode down the Great Hall near the Slytherin table.

* * *

When Vesperra arrived at the Slytherin table, she was greeted with the usual rudeness to show that she was unwelcome amongst them, which she ignored. From what she heard around her, it seemed that rumors about last night were already circulating.

"Did you hear—?"

"Something about Sirius Black—"

"He got in again, but he escaped! The bastard must've took down five Ministry members at once—no other way…."

Just after that comment, which had been from a passing Gryffindor, Vesperra heard another person about five feet away turn excitedly back to his friend and repeat what he'd heard as though it were fact. This was how gossip in Hogwarts tended to spread… and once again, it appeared that she was the only one that knew the whole truth. Of course, there were Potter, Weasley, and Granger, who weren't even in the Great Hall, but even they didn't know Severus's side of it.

And still, students were talking about their plans for Hogsmeade. Extremely annoyed that she was surrounded by people who were oblivious to things like this, Vesperra tried to hurry up and eat a decent amount of food so she could leave. Around the time that she did, everyone else was getting up as well to head out to Hogsmeade.

Shuffling uncomfortably through the mass of Slytherins, Vesperra saw Severus walking nearby.

* * *

Several people were surprised to see him leaving this way, but others looked excited. He hadn't thought of a reasonable excuse for walking this way, but, as expected, an opportunity arose within seconds.

"Professor!" said Malfoy as Severus passed him. He was surrounded by other third year Slytherins, including Vesperra, who had stopped as well. "Professor Snape, is it true that Black was captured and escaped again? I figured that you, of all people, would know about anything that went on in the castle…."

Other Slytherins stopped in their tracks and turned their heads, and many of those who were sitting down remained seated. Vesperra was still a bit confused, and inwardly scowled at Malfoy's attempt to kiss up to Severus.

Smirking slightly in feigned satisfaction and hiding his bitterness, he said, "I have no idea how you and the rest of the school has come to know this, but yes, he was. At least you lot have the base facts correct…."

Some people then gasped—mostly girls.

"But we were all in danger, then, weren't we?" asked Daphne Greengrass worriedly, her voice rising in pitch. "Anyone could have died! What if he had gone near any prefects that were patrolling?"

"Oh, you'd more likely have been in danger from the werewolf on the grounds last night…," said Severus as casually as his demeanor would allow. "But you're all lucky that Professor Lupin was outside when he transformed."

A heavy silence followed from nearly every Slytherin, as well as nearby students from other Houses. Even several teachers froze, having apparently heard—and that included Lupin. It was soon broken by whispers and short gasps and muttering amongst the crowd of students.

"Lupin—_what_?"

"He's a _werewolf_?"

"And we never knew?"

From her spot in the crowd, Vesperra stared at Severus, shocked. But it seemed obvious less than a minute later why he had done that.

"Merlin, did I just tell all of you that?" he said with feigned concern almost at once, though allowing a hint of his silky tones that would have let anyone know that this had certainly not been an accident. At once, he folded his arms behind his back and strode away, past the doorway into the Entrance Hall. Vesperra followed.

They both turned and went down the dungeon passageway, and started walking together once they were in a deserted corridor on the way to his office.

"At least that's good and done…," muttered Severus.

"I'm still surprised no one figured it out beforehand…. Weren't we going to go and confront Dumbledore?"

"We were; we might want to wait a bit before barging into his office, though. Let's give it twenty minutes."

And so they did. In the meantime, they curbed the impatience, confusion, and anger stirring uncomfortably inside of them by trying to talk about other things. All the while, they were attached by the hand, fingers interlaced so tightly that it almost hurt.

The corridors were empty when they passed through them again on their way to the stone gargoyles that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. At the mention of candied apples, they sprang aside and allowed Vesperra and Severus onto the moving spiral staircase.

"It's been too long since I've been up here," muttered Vesperra sardonically.

Stone-faced, Severus banged the bronze door knocker thrice, and they heard a casual, "Enter."

"Good afternoon, Severus, Miss D'Monicas…or rather, mid-morning," said Dumbledore as they entered. "Well, you've gotten what you've wanted, Severus. Remus resigned just after breakfast."

Having known the Headmaster for years and experienced him at his angriest, he feared for a moment that Dumbledore would be angry with him—until he realized how casually he was speaking. Vesperra squeezed his hand very hard and turned to him, smiling slightly with a glint in her eye.

"So he's quit?" she said shortly, with satisfaction evident in her voice. "He's gone?"

"Yes, Miss D'Monicas," said Dumbledore, nodding. He sighed. "And he likely would have even without Severus interfering—I am merely relieved that nothing worse happened to him. Although, there was no truth in your reasons for mistrusting Remus, which is part of what I believe you two came here to discuss. Please, sit down…."

They did as asked in the two chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. Both Severus and Vesperra frowned, ready to refuse to believe anything the man told them. The chairs were close enough to each other that they could easily keep their hands clasped together, dangling only slightly in between the arms. Dumbledore looked briefly, yet obviously, at their hands and smiled for a moment.

"Now listen, both of you," he said politely. "I believe you deserve to know the truth of what occurred last night above anyone else, save those who already do. Several things I say, you will want to argue with. But please, do not waste time arguing with fact. Ask questions and demand explanations all you want, but I don't doubt for a single second that what I say is the full, true story. I cannot force you to believe me, but you, I presume, simply wanted an explanation, not a heated argument."

Looking to each other, Vesperra and Severus inhaled sharply in hesitation, but soon mutually decided to try to do as Dumbledore asked and not flip out. Apparently noticing their resigned look after the silent exchange, the Headmaster folded his hands on his desks and continued.

"Rather than a story, this will be more of me contradicting several things you and the rest of the Wizarding World have come to believe. First off, as much as I know you must want to refuse to believe it, James, Sirius, and Peter _did_ become Animagi. I was skeptical too, I admit, but Sirius transformed into a huge, black dog, without a wand, right before my eyes. That is a large part of how I came to believe his story when I was speaking to him.

"Now, I am assuming, Severus, that you have told Miss D'Monicas at least some of the events in the war prior to Voldemort's downfall…. So you will both find it significant that Sirius Black was _not_ the Secret-Keeper for the Potters—ah, Severus, let me finish, _don't_ argue. Thank you. He was, indeed, intended to be, but Black convinced them to switch to Peter Pettigrew at the last minute. He thought that Voldemort would never have suspected Peter, and so it was the perfect decoy—but it turns out that _Peter _was the actual spy.

"You see, Sirius confronted him less than a day after Voldemort's downfall, and Peter escaped by blasting a curse that caused an explosion, cutting off his finger a moment before and transforming into a rat. Such a genius plan… But Black was framed, and Peter lived. He was Mister Weasley's rat, in disguise for twelve years. The real reason that Black escaped Azkaban was to kill Peter—and before you ask, he had known from a picture on the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ from many months ago, which had the rat, clearly showing that it was missing a toe, and the story about the Weasleys' trip to Egypt. Sirius spent all year trying to kill Peter, not Harry.

"And, of course, Remus had nothing to do with this. He was not informed of the Secret-Keeper switch just as I wasn't, so he had no idea of his old friend's intentions. He truly was trying to save the children last night, and had no ill-intentions whatsoever throughout the year. And now, Peter has escaped; he is probably seeking out Voldemort as we speak."

Finally, Dumbledore took a pause long enough for it all to sink in. It lasted only until Vesperra leaned forward and her harsh voice broke the stale air:

"But Professor, what other proof do you have?" At this, Dumbledore raised his eyebrows politely but remained silent. Severus stared at her. "I'm not arguing—but how can the fact that Black is an Animagus serve as enough proof for everything else? That doesn't prove that Potter's father and Pettigrew were Animagi as well… and even if it did, that doesn't prove that Pettigrew survived. Severus didn't see him in the Shrieking Shack, and so the only witnesses you have are people who are very likely either deceiving you or are just plain mad!"

Impressed with her, Severus couldn't help but shift in his seat and let his chest puff up proudly. Vesperra, however, didn't seem to notice, for she was still staring intently at Dumbledore, who was smiling through his silver beard.

"Ah, Miss D'Monicas," he said, chuckling very slightly, "you forget I am a Legilimens. It was not at all difficult to discover the truth from Black through his mind, which I did only after he had willingly told me the story and shown me his Animagus form. I saw him and Remus forcing Peter back into his human form, as well everything else that happened," finished Dumbledore.

Vesperra's face fell again, and she frowned at her lap, furiously and uselessly trying to think of some other way to deny Dumbledore's story.

"You've yet to tell us about his escape, Dumbledore," snapped Severus, feeling Vesperra's pain and wanting both to distract her from confusion and to hear how Black had escaped.

"Well, Severus, I cannot give you all the details, for it would be dangerous for you—either of you—to know. But I don't want you blaming this entirely on Harry, because _I_ helped him and Miss Granger. Sirius Black was able to escape on Buckbeak the hippogriff, whom they also saved last night. They were able to fly him to Professor Flitwick's office, unlock the window, and get Sirius to fly to safety on him."

Vesperra raised her eyebrows at the mention of Buckbeak, and then smirked. _Merlin, I can't wait to tell Malfoy…._ But then she realized something else—

"But wait, Headmaster, that doesn't explain everything—wasn't Buckbeak supposed to be executed earlier in the evening? How would they have had time to save him? And Severus told me that they were locked in the Hospital Wing during all the time that Black was up in the tower—they'd've had to have been in two places at once!"

"Well, of course they weren't in two places at once," said Dumbledore. "That would be impossible."

Utterly confused, Vesperra sunk in her seat, her mouth still hanging open slightly. She turned to Severus, who looked furious and as though he might unleash it on Dumbledore at any second.

It didn't matter to Severus at the moment that Black was innocent, because that bastard would never be innocent in his eyes. That didn't change the fact that he had tried to kill him in their fifth year; and, by the sound of it, he had still indirectly caused Lily's death by convincing her and James to switch to Pettigrew, the real traitor. _Pettigrew…_ He still wanted to refuse to believe it, but he couldn't. Dumbledore had given solid proof—solid proof that everything they thought they had known was wrong.

But then again, he really should have seen it…. Pettigrew had always been a weak, talentless thing following Black and Potter around. He clung to the biggest bullies at Hogwarts, so he would be respected as well. And he had often been the one with the last word when the Marauders hexed and humiliated him. That little rat was the real one to blame for all this—but still, Severus loathed Black and was severely disappointed that he had escaped justice.

And suddenly, all the days of dread, all the hours of spying on Lupin and sitting in mutual frustration with Vesperra, unable to completely sooth each other's fears, just came back to him. Severus inhaled sharply, and his expression was now one of horror.

"So… what you are saying, Dumbledore," he said quietly, gripping the arm of his chair very hard, "is that Vesperra and I have wasted our entire year worrying about the wrong man?"

"You aren't the only ones, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Do not forget that I have been working very hard to find Black as well. The difference is that—no offense—I am able to easily get over such frustration."

"Not everyone can be as patient or optimistic as you, Dumbledore," said Severus darkly, his jaw stiffening as he spoke. "And… I have nothing left to ask you. Vesperra?"

He turned to her, and raised an eyebrow. She hardly took a moment to think, and then said, "Neither do I."

Rather than appearing insulted or even slightly miffed, Dumbledore smiled. "Well then, good day to you both."

Standing up at once, Severus pulled Vesperra to her feet and out of the office.

* * *

The last week of term wasn't an eventful one, but it didn't drag on, either—although Vesperra wished that it would. She didn't want to return to her parents, as she doubted that she'd be very welcome at home considering how she had left last time. Of course, Severus had threatened her parents, so she didn't think they would abuse her as much.

Sadly, it wasn't Vesperra that told Malfoy about Buckbeak's escape, as she hadn't had a chance, but she was glad to see him so furious nonetheless. He had absolutely no idea that it was Potter and Granger who had somehow saved Buckbeak—and used him to save Black, so he was convinced that Hagrid must have smuggled him to safety.

Many people spent the next week theorizing about the truth of what had happened that night, but no one came close at all. The only facts anyone got right were that Black had been on the grounds and later escaped, Lupin had transformed (everyone now knew that the man was a werewolf), and that Severus as well as Potter and his friends had been involved. No one had any inkling of Pettigrew having been there or that he was even still alive.

As for Lupin, it seemed that almost everyone but some of the Slytherins were sad to hear that he had left. Even Vesperra couldn't deny that he'd been the most competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had had in the past few years, and others had considered him the best teacher at Hogwarts. A lot of people didn't seem to care that Lupin was a werewolf, but others, even some of those who hadn't hated Lupin, were definitely questioning Dumbledore's sanity now.

And Vesperra was extremely glad that Lupin had left. Despite the fact that he really hadn't done anything to her directly or indirectly, she still hated him for having almost killed Severus years ago… and for reasons that she couldn't fully explain.

At least she could finally spend some time with Severus at the clearing.

* * *

There were so many exams to grade that Severus was quite busy during the beginning of the week. He tried to hurry up and condense the work into a matter of a couple days so that he would be able to spend more time with Vesperra. The events of Thursday evening were still eating him, but at least he knew he could relax about Potter's safety and no longer worry about Black or Lupin. In fact, it was, in a way, relieving to know that the boy had never been in any real danger at all, and that Severus had never once been close to failing to keep his promise to Lily.

Still, though, his hatred for Potter had now spilled over the top, for the boy had yelled at him, attacked him, and set Black free. Though Severus believed Dumbledore's story, he would have preferred to never know the truth and simply live in comfort knowing that his childhood rival was worse than dead. Whenever Severus looked at Potter during meals or in the corridors, he could not stop himself from flexing his fingers as he had once noticed Vesperra doing, or from letting his lip curl.

Nothing, he realized, would ever make him forgive Potter.

* * *

It was the day before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave Hogsmeade Station, and a particularly nice day as well. Throughout the week, they had spent a few days at the clearing by the lake since they actually had a chance to. Remembering the year before, Severus had decided to bring Vesperra here so they could have some peace and quiet before going home.

The heat was bearable, though there wasn't a breeze. But sitting in the shade was enough to keep them cool. Next to them, the lake was still, and its glossy surface was only occasionally rippled by the giant squid coming up to float above the water.

Vesperra and Severus were leaning against the rock that acted as sort of a wall to surround the clearing, sitting with their legs out in front of them rather than cross-legged. Vesperra was lazily flicking her wand towards the lake, muttering words under her breath and making spheres of water separate themselves from the rest of the lake and float upward.

"I can't believe it's already the end of the year," she sighed, moving the sphere of water around. Her concentration then broke, and it fell with a splash back into the lake. "I feel like it's been much longer than a year, though…."

"I know how you feel," said Severus, watching her practice the spell. "I imagine you feel even less like a thirteen year-old now…. And it's difficult for me to believe you're still thirteen. This year's been a long one."

Smirking slightly as she created another levitating sphere of water, she looked at him briefly through a side-glance and said, "How old do you feel, then?"

"About sixty. And I'll likely be emotionally aging even faster in the coming years, since Pettigrew's on the run now…. We'll actually have _him_ to worry about." He didn't want to think about it, and even less to talk about this now, but he couldn't help but bring it up.

"Severus… do you think it'll take long for Pettigrew to find You-Know-Who and return him to power?" asked Vesperra, letting another sphere drop and turning to him.

"I can't say. It could be a few months, or a year, or several years…. All we know is that, eventually, it _will_ happen."

Severus squeezed her arm in a way that said, _"Don't worry about it now, though"_—he wasn't holding her hand, but only because she was holding her wand. After a slow exhale and saying, "I know," she resumed with the spheres of water, moving them further onto the clearing and letting them fall.

"That's an advanced piece of magic," he observed out loud after a minute, having enjoyed watching her. "I don't recall it being in any _Standard Book of Spells_…."

"It wasn't," she replied calmly, still focusing on the water she was making hover high in the air. "I found it in an Ancient Runes book—it's apparently a very old spell. I'm not sure if it has any real use, but I thought it was interesting…."

And then, completely unexpectedly, Severus felt a splash on his head, and his hair was suddenly soaked. Vesperra was smirking and inching away from him, and it was only two seconds before he realized what had happened.

"You did that on purpose!" he said—not with anger, but with shock and amusement. There was even somewhat of a laugh in his voice, although he was frowning through the thick strands of wet hair that were falling in front of his face. When she stayed silent and only gave him a coy smile, he lunged for her; but she quickly jumped to her feet and out of his reach, and all he got were tufts of grass.

There was a split second where their eyes met and they both understood what was happening—and however unlike them it was to do this sort of thing, they were glad that Vesperra had acted on a sudden whim.

Smirking wickedly, Severus scrambled to his feet and Vesperra ran to the other side of the clearing. He easily caught up with her, as the clearing wasn't very big, and thought that he had her cornered against the tall rock; but when he ran straight for her, she managed to skirt to the side and escape capture as she ran away again.

"Too slow, Severus!" she laughed, looking behind her to see if he was close behind. However, with only a few quick strides, he was right behind her just as she turned her head away and threw his arms around her waist, scooping her up.

"Who's slow now?" said Severus, adjusting his arms so that he was holding her somewhat bridal style, with one arm holding her upper back and the other holding her legs behind the knees. She let out a small noise of playful frustration as he did, and struggled slightly as he carried her nearer to the edge of the water.

"I suppose I could just drop you in…," he said silkily, starting to hold her out over the lake—but then Vesperra's smile was abruptly replaced with a look of horror, and she clung to him as tight as she could.

"_No!_—Severus—I can't swim!" she practically shrieked, only realizing a second later that she was slightly embarrassed to admit it. But she had hardly been let out of the house as a small child, so there had never been any chance for her to learn—and she was suddenly terrified of being dropped in the lake, whether or not the water there was shallow.

Surprised, he let out a small gasp and the playful air about them completely dissipated. Severus stepped away from the water's edge and set her down. The look in her eyes as she had clung to him was terrifying enough.

"I'm sorry, Vesperra, I—"

"It's fine, Severus. I know you wouldn't have known…." She went and leaned against the rock while standing, folding her arms.

"I wasn't actually going to drop you in, you know," he said, returning to his spot to sit down and pulling her hand to urge her to sit down with him.

"Yeah, I suppose I should have guessed that…. Well, it was fun while it lasted," Vesperra muttered, letting herself fall sideways and lean against him. She felt genuinely disappointed that it had been so short.

"It wouldn't have been able to last very long anyway, since the feast is hardly more than an hour away and it takes a while to get back to the Great Hall from here," Severus told her, consulting the shadows rather than a watch. "And… after that, I'll only see you once more before you start riding the train back home." His voice fell throughout the course of that sentence, as he couldn't help but be disappointed that the year was over, however glad he was at the same time.

"But then you'll see me again in a few days, Severus…." Vesperra leaned back for a moment, and then, feeling a sudden burst of confidence, arched her head and kissed him on the cheek, close to his jawbone. "Don't worry about it."

Severus smiled at her, but more with his eyes than with his lips. He knew that, however bitter he would be in an hour's time when he was eating dinner in a room decorated in scarlet and gold, however frustrated he would be when Dumbledore hired a new Defense teacher that wasn't him, and however fraught with dread he would be when Voldemort returned, she would be there for him.

* * *

**And that's the end! Well, not really. There's still four more books. But I am SO FREAKING PROUD of myself for finishing this! I hope you guys didn't get bored with reading all the stuff that was directly from PoA!**

**Also, I've decided that I'm going to take a week's break from writing, so you guys will have to wait two weeks for a new chapter instead of one. It's Thanksgiving break in America, and I'm taking advantage of it to study for a major test and finish a History project. It's a research project, and I need to get it as good as possible. I'm also taking the week to officially plan out Book 4 and to have an HP movie marathon (I just got DH2 on DVD!). **

**I would be really happy if you guys left me a crapload of reviews... so please review! ^_^ **


	47. Book 4: Chapter 1

**WOOOOOOT BOOK FOUR! YEAH! Okay-calming down now... But I am so glad to be posting this chapter. The reason it's so early is because I finished my History project early and started working on this Friday night, and I had nearly finished it by Sunday night. I really hope it lives up to your expectations!**

**Also, I'm throwing around the idea of starting a Tumblask blog for Severus and Vesperra like some other fanfic writers do (My favorite is definitely AskSnily from TheAtomicBoom's 'Rewritten History'... You guys should check out that story if you haven't heard of it). It probably wouldn't be updated extremely often, but I really like the idea and want to know what you guys think**

* * *

Blackness turned to swirling grays and greens, indistinguishable as anything but blurs in front of the deep velvet that was the starless sky. All around Severus was nothing but the sound of rushing air, flowing past his ears like some great tidal wave and deforming the night around to simple shapes. His hair and robes whipped around, moving just as frantically as his heart, though it was drowned out by the wind and unheard by even him.

Not that there was anyone else to hear it. It was just him, flying his way through the very fabric of time and space—from reality to fantasy, from light to darkness, from nothingness to solid ground…

And suddenly, there he was. On solid ground. It was familiar ground… not in that he'd stood on this exact spot before, or that he could recognize the area around even with the absence of any natural light, but because there was a settling feeling within him that he could recognize anywhere. Truly, it was something he had not felt in at least thirteen years, but those memories were vague. That felt like a different Severus, one he could only vaguely remember—no, he felt like he remembered feeling this not long ago at all.

The wind was gone, and the air was still. Not even a breath from him or anyone else disrupted it—in fact, Severus felt like he didn't even have to breathe. Aside from the silence, however, there seemed to be a ringing in his ears, as though there was some sort of low, heavily base music playing in the background. Or perhaps that was simply inside of him….

Severus had known it all along, but he only now saw that he was standing in a circle, and other people were standing a set length apart. Everyone, including him, was dressed in black cloaks, and every face was hidden from view. Miniscule balls of light came into view in the surrounding sky as stars, as did a waning moon, turning the light from pitch-black to dim. The blackness of the others' cloaks was of such deepness that they stood out against all else, so that they were now visible as defined shapes.

Despite the lack of wind or even a light, trickling breeze, the others' cloaks stirred eerily. They could have all been dementors, if Severus didn't know better. All of them had their heads turned towards the spot on the circle that was right next to him, and it was at that spot that there was a gap. The person that would have inhabited it had stepped forward, and had their arms folded behind their back.

Severus noticed another hooded figure standing in the middle of the circle, but he didn't think much of it. He wasn't thinking much of any of this, really, until—

"Step forward," said the high, cold voice that belonged to the figure to Severus's right.

The one in the middle did as told, and at the same time lifted their hands to push down their hood. A sharp, pale face and dirty blonde hair were suddenly visible, staring straight ahead.

Feeling as though a dagger had been stuck into his throat, Severus hunched over slightly, unable to breathe. _No… no… what—this cannot happen…._

There was a brief sound of satisfaction from the Dark Lord, and Severus was sure he was smirking by the sound of it.

"Vesperra… I see very much in you," he said. "Such talent… such power… and such an affinity for the Dark Arts. Yes, there will definitely be a place for you in our ranks, and I've no doubt that you'll live up to my expectations, especially with your powerful family line…."

A smirk twitched at the edge of Vesperra' lips, and there was a glint in her eyes that frightened Severus beyond anything else—for a second, he was sure he had seen red in them. The manner in which her lank hair framed her face tonight was unlike any way it had ever been before…. It was as though she was a whole new person. She looked powerful, more so than he had ever thought she was, and—for a moment he couldn't put a finger on it—loveless. Vesperra seemed as though her only desire now was one for power.

Tonight, her eyes reflected the surroundings and he could see none of the greenish tinge or even the blue in them that he usually could. They looked dark grey, and it was only by straining his own eyes that Severus could see even that. He bored his eyes hopelessly into hers, searching for a sign of her coming to her senses, pleading for her to stop, to not go through with this… but she didn't return his gaze.

Perhaps it was only because she couldn't see his eyes beneath his hood…. But there was no way for him to communicate to her that she could not do this without anyone else seeing. All he could do was stand there in gut-wrenching agony and watch as the Dark Lord lifted a white, long-fingered hand and a yew wand.

"If you are ready, then," he said, eliciting noises of contained excitement from the other Death Eaters.

Vesperra grinned and lifted her left arm, but before she could push her sleeve back, Severus lost it and pulled down his own hood.

"_My Lord…_" Severus's voice came out in a dull rasp, but the urgency in it was unmistakable. Every face, hidden or otherwise, turned to him. "My Lord, you cannot do this, she is too young, she—"

"Too young, Severus?" laughed the Dark Lord mirthlessly. "Why, age is but a number, and she is strong-willed, unlike other children her age. You act as though I am putting her through something horrible, while I am granting her an honor like no other!"

Severus was overcome with dread, but he stopped himself from shaking or dropping to his knees. He continued to plead, though. "Please, My Lord, fourteen is much too young, regardless of her talent—"

This time, it was Vesperra who interrupted: "Shut up, Severus! Just let me do this!"

Her voice was harsh, and her words stung. He stared at her in concealed horror, and she stared back, angry. The Dark Lord pushed back his hood, revealing an almost pure white face with a snakelike nose and eyes that had only red slits for pupils; and he smirked at Severus.

"Feisty, this one," he whispered. "I can see why you're so fond of her, Severus."

Turning back to Vesperra, he pushed up her sleeve, and gripped her arm tightly with one hand. Voldemort ran one finger curiously over her scar, making Severus's chest constrict as he was forced to watch and not interfere.

"Hm. It's rather unfortunate that we'll have to open such a wound again, but necessary. You won't have the scar anymore once this is through, though, I assure you."

The Dark Lord seemed to be satisfied with the fact that Vesperra's determined expression didn't falter, and he put the tip of his wand at the end of her scar closest to her elbow, running it down to the other end. Her skin split open as he did, reopening the scar and allowing blood to trickle onto raw skin, but she did not cry out. She hid her pain by gritting her teeth.

Then, he waved his wand and whispered a string of words that Severus had heard before but never been able to comprehend, and the reopened scar began to shift around on her forearm. It stretched the skin, twisting around to form a skull and a snake protruding from its mouth, going behind the skull and overlapping itself. Vesperra's forearm was already bleeding so profusely that the lines that formed the shape of the Dark Mark would have been barely distinguishable had Severus not gone through the same ritual before. As many years ago as it had been, it wasn't the sort of thing you could forget the details of….

When the scar had finished gruesomely maneuvering into the right shape, the taut skin smoothed itself down and Voldemort stuck the tip of his wand to the center of Vesperra's wrist. Where her skin looked as though it had been sliced into, what looked like an elaborate scar took its place. But it wasn't congealed blood that had marked her; it was magic most Dark and ancient, like black ink that would never come off. The Dark Lord waved his wand lazily to get rid of all the excess blood, and let go of her arm.

"It is complete," he said, his high, cold voice ringing out within the Death Eater circle. The others had been watching in anticipation, and they seemed well satisfied. "With _you_ in our inner circle, Vesperra, I can expect great things…."

Casually, as though he was merely continuing off what he had just said, the Dark Lord began speaking in strange hissing noises, and Vesperra responded in the same language. It continued for less than a minute until Voldemort said, "I could teach you myself, but why deny dear Bellatrix of the chance to educate her own cousin?"

"Thank you, My Lord!" said a husky, feminine voice from the outer edge of the circle. "I could not be happier to teach her…." Bellatrix stepped forward and moved to stand behind Vesperra, pulling off her hood. She took her by the shoulders, and smiled wickedly. "Yes, we'll have lots of fun, won't we?"

Vesperra was still examining her newly marked arm, and Severus was drowning in his own horror. This could _not_ have happened, it just _couldn't_ have…. But he now felt more like he was watching the scene as though he was separate from it, like he was on the other side of a pane of foggy glass. And the sound of the Dark Lord saying, "Does this still displease you, Severus? Shouldn't you be congratulating her?" grew softer and more muffled, like he was going through a tunnel… and he was now screaming, preparing himself for the Cruciatus Curse that was sure to come….

In the next second, he opened his eyes, unaware that they had been closed in the first place, and his retinas were bombarded with the shock of relatively bright colors after nothing but darkness. He was staring at his bedroom wall, which was a light beige, and in his peripheral vision the pale green of his pillow. Severus's stiff body was cushioned by the softness of his bed and blankets, and for a moment he was confused. Then he was so relieved that he released the breath that he'd been holding.

Rolling over onto his back, Severus clutched his head and breathed deeply, his eyes wide and his skin feeling uncomfortably warm. One hand slid down to his stomach, and he stared at the ceiling for a few more moments before letting out a noise of distress and rolling over again.

_God dammit_, he thought, pressing his head very hard into his pillow, _why does every dream I have involving Vesperra have to be such a bloody bad one? _Well, no, that wasn't true…. He did have some good dreams about her. Ones where they had days just like usual with each other, or just did completely ridiculous and uncharacteristic things, but the nightmares occurred just as often.

It was hardly a week into the summer, and Severus was already worrying like this. It wasn't healthy to be like this… but he couldn't help it. Sirius Black's escape, in spite of his innocence, still had him quite angry—he didn't think he would ever get over it. And Pettigrew's escape meant the imminent threat of Voldemort returning, so it was only natural he would be stressed out about it….

But that had been one extremely realistic dream. Severus couldn't stand the thought of Vesperra actually becoming a Death Eater, and even in the land of vague thoughts and feelings that a subconscious usually was, he could feel the dread. The aftermath of it left him shaking and taking shallow breaths into his pillow. His owl, Lily, was making a bit of a racket in her cage, but Severus was in too much of a state to care.

Even though he knew it wasn't at all possible, and that Vesperra would _never_ join Voldemort, especially not after all they'd been through together, Severus found himself fearing that she'd lose herself to the darkness just like he had. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't doubt that the Dark Lord would want her in his ranks if he ever found out about her. She was extremely talented, and a Parselmouth to boot…. The only thing was, Severus would _make sure_ that he never got anywhere near Vesperra.

Had Vesperra been Lily, and had this been back when Severus was in his fourth year, he would have been very glad about this sort of thing. In fact, thinking back on his teenager self, he realized that Vesperra would have been the ideal Lily for him. But now, he didn't want that at all. He wanted his best friend to fight for the good side… just as he knew she would do when the time came.

Unconsciously, Severus reached out with his right arm and clutched at the sheets, and was mildly surprised and disappointed to find nothing else in his arms—was he expecting Vesperra to be laying beside him? He'd certainly have liked to have her there at the moment, just to hug her and be sure that his nightmare would never come true… if he wasn't half-naked right now.

Severus let out a half-groan, half-sigh, and forced himself to turn around again. He sat up, letting his blanket fall to his waist, and held his face in his hands. His skin was still warm, and his hand stuck to it because of the sweat, but it also provided slight relief for his sudden headache from having sat up and altered his internal gravity. Moving his hair out of his face, he took deep breaths until his heartbeat had evened out, and then decided that he needed a shower.

It was with some reluctance that he pushed his blankets aside and left his bed, for part of him wanted to stay there; but he was quite used to forcing himself to do things he didn't want to do. Self-discipline was almost a routine practice with him. On his way to the bathroom, he passed his owl, who was still hooting impatiently in her cage.

"Alright, you want out, do you?" growled Severus as he walked over to her cage and opened the metal latch. She stuck a talon out and latched onto his arm at once, then he walked over to the window to let her out. When he opened it, he took a brief look to see if there were any Muggles around in Spinner's End—there weren't. It was too early for anyone to be up and about. Lily hooted her thanks and departed; she was soon gone from view and had no doubt gone to go search for mice, but Severus had shut the window long before that.

The hot water certainly did have the effect he had intended: After Severus had stood in the shower for a good ten minutes and gotten dressed, he was feeling calm and was considerably less fussed about his dream. Albeit, the stark calmness of his house was slightly disturbing, but he supposed that he just had to wait for the feelings from the nightmare to wear off.

The rest of the morning was like all the rest he'd had so far this summer. A large cup of coffee, a bit of toast and cereal, and an hour of scouring the Daily Prophet. All the while, he thought about what he'd already thought about a million times before—when the Dark Lord would return, and what would happen when he did. Severus didn't think that Pettigrew could have gotten that far in only a couple weeks, but he still wanted to make sure he checked _everything_ for a sign of Voldemort's return—funny deaths, odd happenings amongst Muggles…. But so far, he had found nothing. Even a couple trips to the Leaky Cauldron and Knockturn Alley had told him nothing significant.

If that wasn't enough to think about, there was also the fact that he (along with everyone else) was definitely _not_ going to have a quiet year at Hogwarts starting that fall. Of course, he couldn't have expected it with impending doom hovering over the Wizarding World (without the majority's knowledge), but this was just added stress for all the teachers.

After the Hogwarts Express had left Hogsmeade station on the Saturday after term ended and before the staff had a chance to pack up and leave, Dumbledore had gathered them all in the staffroom for his usual end-of-year goodbyes. Along with his sentiments, he had also had an announcement: He and the Ministry of Magic would be spending the summer planning a most extraordinary event, one that had not taken place for hundreds of years—the Triwizard Tournament. And it would be hosted at Hogwarts.

For a minute, all sorts of fears had been brewing in his mind, and he had been about to seethe and rage at that damned old man for purposely setting up something that would endanger Lily's son's life, but then Dumbledore had assured them that many safety precautions would be put in place this time. Severus knew that the Triwizard Tournament used to be a yearly event, and that it would take turns to be hosted at one of the three most well-known magical schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Students had regularly died in the Tournament, and oftentimes the only champion still alive would be the winner. It had been stopped by the Ministry hundreds of years ago for that reason—as times had changed, students dying on school grounds had become unacceptable. But according to Dumbledore, the Ministry thought it was time to resurrect the Tournament, for it was a shame that the tradition had been lost, and this time impose an age restriction so that only those that were most capable would be allowed to compete. This meant that Potter would not be able to enter, and therefore his life would not be in danger. There would also be professionals standing by should any of the champions find theirselves in mortal danger.

However, this also meant that everyone would be too caught up in the excitement to read the signs, as Severus was sure Voldemort's return would happen before the year was out. And the school would have to be fit to play host to the Headmasters of the other two schools as well as some of their students, and that meant facing Karkaroff again. Severus certainly wasn't looking forward to catching up with him….

Knowing this and keeping it from Vesperra felt odd, since he always told her everything that went on even if students weren't supposed to know it, but this was just one of those things he did just because it seemed like the thing to do. As unlike him as it was, Severus wanted it to be a surprise for her. Sometimes even she needed a surprise in her life—a good one, that is. She had had enough unpleasant surprises.

There was another thing he knew he couldn't keep from her, though. While he sat in his armchair with one of his old Potions texts in one hand and his journal in the other, he often pulled up his sleeve and stared at his faded Dark Mark for the longest time. He was hit with the same stuff—shame, guilt, self-loathing… but there was resignation as well, now. Severus didn't know when, and he wasn't going to try and plan a time, but he knew that, sometime during the year… he would have to tell her.

* * *

It was a cold day in Stoneyard, and that meant it was a normal day. There was hardly ever a warm day in that town, especially since it was only a few miles from the coast. Sea air had nothing stopping it as it blew even as far as the rows and rows of houses well within the town, but the residents were used to it, and thought nothing of the slightly salty taste in the air.

One particular street, called Nottingham Court, was lined with perfectly normal houses and perfectly normal people—or at least that's what they seemed like at first glance. They weren't bland homes, and they were definitely distinguishable from one another even without the bronze numbers attached to the front doors, but they didn't have anything particularly unusual about them on the outside. However, the group of children that were throwing a ball back and forth across the street were as curious as ever about Number Six. They knew that a man lived there, and they felt sure that he must have had a family, but they never saw anyone else come out of that house. It was the sort of curiosity where they were sorely tempted to go ring the doorbell just to see if anyone answered, but there was also a sort of eerie sense about the place, like they would be in monumental trouble if they were so daring as to do that. So they avoided it.

What they didn't know (not that they would believe it if anyone told them) was that this house was the home of two people who could do magic. In fact, a bit of very powerful magic was going on inside the smallest bedroom at the time….

Vesperra was sitting upright on her bed, which was no longer stiff as it had been for as long as she could remember before Severus had fixed it last summer. There were still a few springs sticking out here and there, as those couldn't be fixed by a Cushioning Charm, but she was so grateful for the fact that she didn't have to make the sudden transition from Hogwarts four-posters to an uncomfortable bed that she didn't mind them so much. The problem was easily fixed by sitting on top of her blankets, anyway.

A pillow was propped up against her headboard so that she could lean comfortably against it, and her legs were outstretched in front of her. Despite the cold, Vesperra had her bedroom window open merely to add a bit of wind to the stagnate, dusty air of the room and make it less boring. Occasionally a leaf fluttered in from one of the neighbor's trees, and she could hear the children in the street shouting and laughing, but she had to admit it was better than being in a completely silent and still bedroom.

However, she wouldn't have been completely bored without it. As usual, she was ignoring the note that had been given to all the underage students at the end of the year telling them not to do magic outside of school, since there was no risk of being found out by the Ministry. They could detect magic, but not who was doing it, so they would just think it was her mum.

And it was the weekend, which meant both her parents were home, so she wasn't going to leave her room if she could help it. That also meant she couldn't go and visit Severus—but he had already written her a message earlier saying that he would be out for most of the day, trying to see if he could pick up on news about Voldemort under cover of purchasing some rare Potions ingredients in a foreign country, anyway. So, stuck in her room with nothing better to do, Vesperra was casting Patronuses over and over again just for the heck of it.

Having practiced so much during her third year, it didn't drain her of near as much energy as it used to, and she could easily keep them up for a while. She liked watching the silvery jaguar pounce around her room, and with her continued practice, she had even managed to make it slow down and prowl in a manner amusingly close to Severus's.

The only problem was that she had yet been able to actually use a Patronus practically. Part of Vesperra wanted to encounter a dementor just so she could use it, which she knew would be much more difficult than what she was doing now. It seemed stupid to wish something like that when she couldn't stand the way those foul creatures made her feel, but it was the Slytherin in her—the desire to rise to any challenge. And she would never have admitted it, but that was a tiny bit of Gryffindor coming out in her as well.

For now, all she could do was wonder if and when it would become necessary to defend herself with a Patronus—which she preferred to think about over all the other things that were on her mind.

Ever since she had stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Vesperra had noticed a distinct personality change in her parents. Mainly, the fact that they weren't smacking her around every time she was in their sight; they were hardly even speaking to her. In fact, the longest string of words she could remember either of her parents saying to her in the two weeks or so that she'd been home was "I just made dinner, go eat."

Though her mother hadn't told her or even talked about it while she was in the vicinity, Vesperra knew that she had gotten a new job—where, she didn't know, but her mum was gone most of the weekdays and for longer hours than her father worked. Although, her parents weren't fighting any less than they'd always done, and in place of abusing her, they were being extremely cold towards her. When they weren't treating her as though she didn't even exist, they acted like she wasn't worthy of a second glance from them.

She wasn't at all surprised by this behavior, since she knew it was all because of what had happened one day last summer, when Severus had busted through her fireplace and cursed both her parents. The memory was still quite vivid in her mind, and she couldn't help but smirk when she thought of it. That had been the turning point in her home life, and she very much preferred being ignored to being abused. Her mum and dad were now _afraid_ to do anything to her—and it was all thanks to Severus….

In between Patronuses, Vesperra vaguely wondered where he was. She supposed he would tell her about it when he got back later that afternoon…. So far this summer, she had visited him a few times during the week, and she could feel that everything had changed. Though it was summer, it was already clear that they were only moving further into times of fear… but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. So Vesperra and Severus ignored that feeling and enjoyed the time they had.

It was hard to believe that only two weeks of summer had passed, but Vesperra wasn't as impatient as she used to be. The longer she was able to spend with Severus and without worries about the fate of the world being urgently present, the better.

The day after she had gotten home, she had had several things to take care of. Other than the usual unpacking, she also had the Malignant Cards to deal with for the third time. Apparently, they weren't something that she could just get rid of. Lifting the loose floorboard, she had taken the box out and returned the cards to it, and then sat on her bed and stared at it for a while, trying to decide what to do. She wondered if she should just go to Knockturn Alley one day while her parents were at work and talk to Mr. Borgin about them. She wouldn't mind stopping to talk to Damien as well….

But she had quickly ruled that out, for she felt that it would be better just to ignore it. Going to Knockturn Alley for any reason but to speak with her cousin would be deliberately breaking her promise to Severus, and she didn't want to do that again. Besides, what if Severus happened to be in Knockturn Alley and she ran into him there? That would _not_ be a pretty scene….

And so, she had begun wondering if there was any way out of it. It seemed that she was stuck with the cards for life until she used them all… but that was out of the question too. Vesperra had only gotten rid of three so far, and she wasn't going to go giving them out just to be free of them. According to what Mr. Borgin had told her and what all had happened so far concerning the cards, they couldn't hurt _her_, so she would just have to put them away and leave them alone. And in the future, she would have to be careful not to let her anger get out of hand again.

Having settled for returning the box to its place underneath the floorboard (which had, once again, cost her great effort), Vesperra hadn't given them a second thought—or at least, she had tried not to.

That had left her with nothing to do but talk to Severus, read, or do random magic for her entertainment, and today she had chosen the latter of the possible options. Vesperra eventually became so immersed in her Patronus, the current of which she was making run along every wall in her small room, that she didn't hear the footsteps growing louder or the knock on her door.

Suddenly, her bedroom door flew open, and Vesperra twisted quickly to see a woman that looked very much like her at the threshold. The focus she'd been keeping on her Patronus hadn't gone away completely, so, rather than fading into wisps of smoke, the silver jaguar bounded straight past her mum and out the door first. Still holding her wand, she slid off her bed and waited for the woman to speak.

Whatever her mother had intended to say, however, had gone out the door with the jaguar. She was gaping, looking back to where the silver creature had vanished and back at Vesperra.

"You—how—_when_ _the hell did you learn to do that?_" she sputtered, dumbfounded, at her stone-faced daughter. "Even _I_ can't—" She stopped there and her face flushed red, as she was apparently embarrassed at being less magically skilled than a thirteen year-old.

"During the school year," said Vesperra flatly, though smirking inwardly. "I'm capable of more than you think I am, you know—Wait, Dad didn't see, did he?" Her voice had dropped and, slightly worried, she peered around her mother to see if her father was in a rage after such a display of magic. In spite of Severus's threats, she wasn't _completely_ sure that her dad would never hit her again. He wasn't exactly intelligent….

"No, he's not even home—and trust me, I do know what you're capable of." Her mother paused, and Vesperra could tell by the way her pupils were dilating that she was only just remembering what she had barged into her room for in the first place. It then occurred to Vesperra how strange it was to be having a civil conversation with her mother so unexpectedly.

"Your father'll be out with his—friends—all day, and I'm leaving to run some errands," she said, regaining her usual unpleasant and firm demeanor. "Clean the house while I'm gone, alright?"

Vesperra was tempted to ask her mum why she couldn't just use some cleaning spells or what the 'errands' were, but years of truly fearing her parents had taught her not to be so stupid, even if there was little reason to expect brutal punishment now. Instead, she nodded, still expressionless, and said, "Alright."

Without another word, the woman left and walked out to the sitting room, where she was presumably about to Floo somewhere. Sighing inwardly, Vesperra slid her wand into the holster inside her sleeve and waited for the telltale rushing noise that meant her mother had left through the fire before getting to work.

She had still not learned any cleaning spells herself, so she knew she was in for a few hours of work. It seemed to have been a while since the house was cleaned at all, which Vesperra assumed was because of her father being the lazy drunk he'd always been and her mother not wanting to do any manual labor either. She wondered if the woman had never bothered to learn cleaning spells or if she just liked to make her daughter work.

The floor of the kitchen was littered with crumbs; Vesperra was surprised they didn't have mice. Well, perhaps they did, but they only came out at night…. After she dealt with that, she got to cleaning the rest of the kitchen, which included washing the dishes (and throwing away all the empty beer bottles that her father had left in the sink), wiping down the counters, and mopping the floor to get rid of the sticky patches that couldn't be removed by sweeping. Since it had been so long since she'd actually done any chores, using a broom for Muggle purposes had her wondering whether her mother owned a broom for flying, and if she did, whether she ever used it.

While Vesperra cleaned the kitchen, a putrid stench was permeating her nostrils and distracting her somewhat. Not knowing where it was coming from, she ignored it for the better part of an hour, but finally decided to investigate when it became too strong. She soon realized it was coming from the fridge—from the meat drawer, to be more precise. Inside was a large fish—a trout, she thought—and it was clearly rotten.

"Dammit, dad, you can't remember to cook a fish before it rots?" she muttered under her breath, staring down into the dead fish's eye. Vesperra was sure her mother would have cast a Preserving Charm on it to make sure it stayed edible, but her dad must have stopped her out of his dislike for magic, even when it would have benefitted him.

As it was no good anymore, Vesperra picked it up by the wrappings and dumped it into the rubbish bin. She started to make a mental note to take the bag in there out to the larger bins outside later, but then she remembered that she wasn't allowed outside. If she went out front, there was a good chance that the neighbors would see her and then question her father as to why he had never mentioned having a daughter and why they had never seen her before. Then her father would forget all about Severus's threat and she would likely get the beating of a lifetime.

When the kitchen was finished, she moved on to the sitting room, where she swept the floors, straightened the couch cushions, and scrubbed the inside of the mantle. By the time she was finished, she was covered in soot, and she figured she ought to go take a shower.

While walking through the hallway to the bathroom, however, she noticed something odd: her mother's bedroom door was open. That door was almost never open when her mum wasn't home…. And the woman wouldn't have expected Vesperra to clean her room, so it could only have been carelessness.

She remembered going into her mum's room when she was four years old and hadn't known better…. When her mum had found her, she had flipped out and beaten her, telling her never to go in there again. And she never had. But now, her mother was gone, and Vesperra's curiosity was piqued yet again. The sliver of the visible part of the bedroom was inviting, telling her that it couldn't hurt to look, especially there were no consequences….

_But wait,_ said a voice inside her head, _you're covered in soot. If you go in there, you'll get soot on her stuff, and then she'll know you'd been in there._

At that, she looked away and went to take a shower, the length of which wasn't long enough for her to fully decide whether or not to act upon her curiosity. For years, she had wondered if her mother kept anything interesting in her room, or if her parents even slept in the same bed…. There were no other bedrooms in the house, but it didn't seem likely.

It was mainly the fear that her mother would come home while she was in there, because that was bound to happen with _her_ luck. However, Vesperra didn't think she'd have a chance like this again, so she took her steps carefully and made sure to be prepared to run out of there the moment she heard the rushing noise of fire.

The bedroom looked the same as she remembered it, except it felt smaller than it used to be—which was obviously because she had grown quite a lot in ten years. It was messier than she expected, and the bed, which was large enough for two people, had the wool blankets bunched up on one side. From that, she figured that only her mum had slept in there last night.

Vesperra was careful not to move anything as she looked around, just in case her mum noticed when she got back. A couple dressers were pushed up against the walls, and on top of them were what looked like stone-carved skulls and a few unlit candles with runes carved into the wooden rim of their holders. Other than that, however, there didn't seem to be anything Dark or even magical at all. There weren't any picture frames or anything that looked personal, but she hadn't expected it.

For the most part, it looked like a perfectly normal Muggle bedroom. In one corner was a hamper, and discarded articles of clothing were lying here and there. A mirror was hung on the side of the room opposite from the bed and there was a door that led to a walk-in closet. It left Vesperra feeling somewhat disappointed—what was she expecting? For there to be some secret door or an old-fashioned trunk in the room? Well, her mother _was_ a witch, and from an important Pureblood family at that… but then again, she _had_ been disowned. And perhaps she had gotten rid of most things magical a while ago.

Against her instinct to just leave while she could, Vesperra started opening drawers and carefully moving the clothes around to see if there was anything interesting. Once again, she was disappointed to find nothing but clothes, but she wasn't deterred. Dropping to the floor, she checked under the bed—_Yes!_—There was a large box underneath, and as she slid it out, she realized that it was quite heavy.

There wasn't anything special about the box itself, as it was rather plain, but inside was a stack of books… and a stack of pictures. Vesperra stopped for a moment to listen for the sound of her mum returning, but heard nothing, so she continued. Picking up the pictures one by one, she was surprised to see both that some of them were moving, which meant they were Wizarding photos, and that they were mostly of her parents.

One was clearly a studio-taken photograph, as it had her mother and father sitting side-by-side, and her dad was holding a toddler that could only have been her. Another showed her father sitting on a chair in a place she'd never seen before, holding Vesperra as a baby and smiling at her… he was actually _smiling_….

Several more showed her parents together with her, and the one thing that confused and shocked Vesperra so deeply was that they actually looked happy. They were looking at each other as well as their daughter in a _loving _way, and there seemed to be something missing from their faces…. Was it the ingrained hatred that Vesperra had become so used to? Or was it simply the lines that came with stress and age?

As she continued to go through the pile, making sure to not get them out of order, she noticed that the pictures got older and older the farther she went into the stack. Soon she came upon photos of her post-birth, and then her parents' wedding day, and then when they must have been dating….

At the very bottom was a picture that looked like it had been taken years before all the rest. For a one wild moment, she thought that she was looking at a picture of herself with Draco Malfoy, but then she realized that it was her mum, who had looked almost exactly like her at her age (except for the nose), and who could only have been a young Lucius Malfoy. The latter was kissing the former on the cheek.

With the sudden urge to vomit, Vesperra stared at the picture in horror for only a single second before hurrying to put it at the bottom of the pile and putting all the other pictures back as well. Instead of starting to look at the books that were in there or pushing the box back under the bed, she sat, cross-legged, on the floor for a minute and tried to fathom what she'd just seen.

_Not only are we cousins, but we could have just as easily been siblings! I could have been Vesperra Malfoy…._ "Merlin, why?" she moaned through gritted teeth, wanting to know why all of this happened to _her_. Her mother had dated Lucius Malfoy, the father of the one person she despised more than anything else! Was this why he had acted the way he had towards her that day in Knockturn Alley? Did his son know? Oh Merlin, she hoped he didn't….

It was a disgusting thought, but it had happened so long ago, and now it was over. Lucius Malfoy _wasn't_ her father, and she couldn't dwell forever on what almost was… but she couldn't help it. _Why_ did she have to have so many connections with her enemy? _Ugh, if only you could Obliviate yourself…_ The Universe was so cruel.

No longer in the right mood, she hardly took a look at the books in there, which were spellbooks, before returning it to its spot under her mum's bed and leaving. She considered herself lucky that her mother didn't arrive in the fireplace for another half an hour, and refrained from telling Severus everything through the journals later that evening so she could tell him in person the next day.

* * *

"You know, I would have expected to find _something_ by now…."

"Shouldn't we be glad that you haven't?"

Vesperra stood up from her chair at Severus's kitchen table, leaving her half-empty cup of steaming tea, and went to stand behind him. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on the edge of the table, and bent over to look at the _Daily Prophet_ article he was reading. He was staring intently at a ten-inch column on page three, titled _MINISTRY APPREHENDS MUGGLE-TARGETING WIZARD_. From what Vesperra skimmed, someone named Thaddeus Elrick had apparently been cursing Muggles. Several people had to have their memories modified, and the man had been given six months in Azkaban. It didn't seem to have anything to do with Voldemort, though.

"I'm not trying to be foolishly optimistic and cheer you up about this," she continued, absentmindedly watching the picture of Thaddeus Elrick being led down to the trial room with the Wizengamot, "but if you haven't found anything, that means that You-Know-Who is at least not powerful yet. And we know he's going to come back either way, so we don't have to worry until he actually does start getting powerful, do we?"

Having found nothing significant about the article either, Severus let a small sound of frustration escape his throat, and then sighed. Setting down the_ Prophet_, he leaned back in his chair and took a drink of his tea.

"If you're saying that I should stop looking, then—" he said stiffly.

"That's not what I'm saying, Severus!" argued Vesperra, frowning at him. "You should definitely keep looking out for signs, like you have been, but I just don't want you to be angry that you haven't found anything."

He turned his head so he could see her, and frowned as well. "I'm not angry, I'm just—"

"Frustrated. I know, Severus…. It's the same thing with how we were all last year, with the stress of not knowing what was going to happen… but do you really think Pettigrew will have found You-Know-Who and started returning him to power within three weeks? How would he even know where to look?"

Calming down a bit, he mentally hit himself for even having started to get angry with her. She didn't deserve that. His muscles, previously tense, also relaxed a considerable amount when Vesperra's hand moved from his shoulder to his hair and she began unconsciously running her fingers through it.

"I don't know," he admitted after a few seconds' hesitation, returning his eyes to the _Daily Prophet_ and flipping the page. "But according to Dumbledore, the Dark Lord was last known to be hiding out in his pathetic form in Albania, so that would have been a start for Pettigrew…. I've visited some of the places where wizards are common down there, but still nothing."

Severus exhaled and skipped the articles about Quidditch, for a few seconds paying attention to the feel of Vesperra's hand in his hair.

After a minute of silence, in which Vesperra read some of what Severus was reading, she said quietly, "I haven't seen anything in the Muggle news, either…. I've read through my father's newspapers after he was finished with them, and if anything has been going on, the Muggles haven't noticed it."

Saying that reminded her of what else she wanted to tell him, but she decided to save it. Letting her fingers slide out of his hair, Vesperra gave his shoulder a sort of reassuring rub and made to sit back down and finish the tea he'd prepared for her. Before she could, though, she saw a shape growing bigger outside the window, and realized what it was after a couple seconds.

"Severus—your owl."

He looked up from the paper, no longer disappointed that Vesperra had stopped, and turned to the window. Stretching his arm outward, he opened it and let his owl fly in. As she landed on the table, both Vesperra and Severus held their cups and bagels out of the way of her briefly still fluttering wings. The owl dropped the dead mouse it had in its beak onto the table, and cocked its head at Severus.

"Excellent," said Severus flatly, frowning at the rodent. "Why don't you give it to Vesperra instead?—Kidding, I was kidding," he added at the look she shot him. "Be glad that it wasn't a dead snake…." With an irritated flick of his wand, the mouse vanished, and his owl gave him a miffed look before flying away again.

They both continued to eat their small breakfasts, and Vesperra watched Severus silently as he scoured the rest of the _Daily Prophet_. He finished with a scowl and a sigh, and folded up the paper to set aside before stuffing the last of his bagel in his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Vesperra," he said, looking up at her. "I don't mean to be ignoring you…. Is something on your mind?"

"It's fine, Severus—but yes, there is something I want to tell you about," said Vesperra. She glanced out the window, and had a sudden thought—"And I wouldn't mind going for a walk around while we talked…."

"It looks like it might rain," he said, looking outside to the gray neighborhood. "But if it does, I can always cast a Shield Charm over us—Alright, let's go, then."

Severus stood up and immediately extended his hand, curious as to what she wanted to talk about, and at the same time somewhat glad to be walking around instead of sitting and talking; it was a bit refreshing.

After she took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, they walked out the back door together. The moment they did, cold wind hit her in the face and blew her baggy shorts back, and Vesperra figured she should have brought a coat with her from home. But it wasn't as cold as it could have been, so she didn't mind it.

Spinner's End was as void of life as ever, and the wind seemed to be whistling through the holes in the boarded-up windows to show just how hollow the old brick houses were. In the distance, however, Severus could see a couple of people walking in the direction of the street that Lily used to live on. Vesperra noticed where he was looking and followed his eyes. One of them looked back, but then ignored them and continued walking.

"They're probably just as surprised as we are to see someone else on these streets," muttered Severus, turning a corner and pulling Vesperra with him. He didn't think they could have noticed the way he was dressed from their distance, so he didn't worry about it. "But these houses aren't _completely_ uninhabited…."

"I've hardly seen anyone else in all the times I've come here and we walked to that spot by the creek—"

"Speaking of which, are we going there? Or do you just want to walk around aimlessly?"

"Aimlessly, I suppose. But still out of sight of any Muggles that might be around… Anyway, Severus, I wanted to tell you that yesterday I found this box of pictures in my mum's room…"

As they walked along the cobbled street towards the railing that separated the last alleyway and the creek, Vesperra told him about the pictures she had found and about how confused she had been and still was. She left out the picture with Lucius Malfoy, though—that was a whole different topic.

"I mean, I've always known that things weren't always like they are now—or, how they were before you interfered—but—in the pictures, it looked like…" Vesperra trailed off, and frowned at the ground. They had reached the railing, and Severus, who had remained silent during her explanation, immediately made to lift her up by her waist so she could step over it. She had definitely grown since last summer, but not enough. "Thanks," she said quickly. "But… it looked like they were completely different people. I thought my father must have not known about my mother being a witch until after they were married, but he must have, because some of the old pictures were Wizarding photos! I just… What _happened_?"

Vesperra looked to Severus, knowing he couldn't give her an answer, but wanting one nonetheless. He looked back at her with almost a sad look, knowing how she felt.

"I don't know, Vesperra," said Severus, squeezing her hand. "The same thing happened to my parents—they must have loved each other at some point, but then their differences drove them to hatred. Or—actually, I think my mother did love my father even after all the years of abuse, and it was just _him_ that ruined it all…. Perhaps it's the same with your mum. It would explain why she kept the pictures—"

"After living with her for most of my life, I find it hard to believe that my mother can love," Vesperra huffed. "And if she does, she shows it in an awfully strange way…. I just want to know how they came to hate me so much if they started out like—like that… my father especially. He _loathes_ me—and he almost never talks to me civilly, even though my mum can."

Severus hesitated a moment, taking a second to remember a conversation he had had with Lily so many years ago, and then said, "He's just jealous that you're special and he's not. I think the worst jealousy in existence is the kind that can be between family members—but that doesn't make it okay, not for him to hate you…."

For another minute or so, Vesperra was silent as she thought about it. Really, it all came down to the fact that her father hated magic, and that Muggles just _had_ to destroy what they didn't understand, even if they loved it in the first place. Severus was right; nothing could justify how her parents had treated her, especially not her dad. But Vesperra's train of thought was going in circles of confusion, so she decided abruptly that she didn't want to think about it anymore. That was how she usually dealt with things that involved too many emotions—by ignoring them. She'd tried, but there was nothing else to say.

"Well, I don't think my parents are going to change back anytime soon, so I'm not going to worry about it anymore…," she finally said, with an air that suggested Severus had been the one to bring this up. He had known Vesperra to often be like this, so he didn't mention it. "But there was one other thing, Severus—" She looked down at her feet and thought about how best to phrase it, which was rather difficult. "I—I think my mum dated Malfoy's father."

He recognized the disgust in her tone, and felt it as well. Severus stopped walking, for he had the sudden inability to multitask.

"But how—?"

"She had a picture of them together, and they looked about my age—Wait a minute, Severus, didn't you used to be friends with Lucius? How could you have not known that they dated?"

"It must have been before I went to Hogwarts…. Lucius is four years older than me. Trust me, Vesperra, if I had known you were nearly his daughter, I would have told you."

His face contorting into a somewhat disgusted one, he tried to avoid thinking of how things would have been if his old friend had married Cassandra Lestrange instead of Narcissa. _Oh Merlin…_

"Well, I think we should both be grateful you're _not_ a Malfoy," he said slowly, beginning to walk again. "To be honest, though, I'd have preferred never to know that."

"So do I, Severus—how do you think I feel?"

"Horribly disgusted and like you'll never be able to look at Malfoy the same way again, I'm guessing…." He sighed, and then looked over to her, his shoulders dropping. "I'm sorry, but I'll tell you the same thing I've told you before, Vesperra: Your family doesn't define who you are. He may be your cousin, and you may have nearly been siblings if not actually the same person, but you know you're nothing like him and you would do all you could to make sure you had no similarities with him if you thought you did. I know it's disturbing—and it bothers me a little as well… but there's really nothing you can do about it."

There were a few seconds where they just stared directly at each other, and then Vesperra sighed as well, kicking a rock on the ground. "And of course, I'm going to spend a couple days just sinking in the horror of the fact my mum had a fling in school no matter what, but then I'll probably get over it for the most part and never mention it again."

Looking ahead, she saw that they were nowhere near anywhere Severus had taken her before with only empty fields ahead, and then looked to her right, where there was the softly flowing river and a forest beyond that.

"Hey—Severus," said Vesperra suddenly, with a tone of changing the topic and a thought having just come to her, "do you want to go walking through the forest? You've never taken me there, and, you know, just breaking the monotony…"

He frowned slightly at the cluster of trees that stood beyond the dirty river, for he hadn't even thought of going in there since he was a small child. There had never been any reason to go there. But he supposed, if Vesperra wanted to…

"Sure," said Severus. The river wasn't very wide or deep, but it was enough that they couldn't just step over it. That was easily remedied; Severus pulled out his wand and waved it, creating a bridge. Vesperra smirked, impressed, and walked across with him.

As though the conversations about her parents and Lucius Malfoy had never happened, they began talking and meandering their way through the forest. Although, the further in they walked, the less Vesperra would really consider this a forest. It was just as littered as the river, and some of the trees looked like they had been graffitied on by Muggle teenagers. But occasionally they heard a rustling of a fox or rabbit or squirrel running away, frightened by their presence, so she still counted it as nature.

Without an actual path, Severus and Vesperra were traveling randomly. They were, admittedly, enjoying it, because it became cleaner as they walked further, and the trees closer together. There was soon limited sunlight, and they began to have to step over fallen trunks.

"I think we should start heading back," said Severus after about an hour of walking. "It'll take a while, anyway, and I'm getting a bit hungry…."

Vesperra agreed, and she trusted Severus to lead her back in the right direction to his house. In the meantime, they continued talking.

"The Quidditch World Cup is being held in England this year, you know," he said as it came to mind.

"And? Are you suggesting we go? I didn't think you cared about International Quidditch…," said Vesperra, arching an eyebrow and smirking wryly at him.

"I don't, I was just mentioning it. It's not as though a teacher's salary pays anywhere near enough for me to be able to afford it, anyway…. Do you think your mother will be going?"

"I don't think so—well, I have no idea whether she cares about Quidditch or not, but if she does, I doubt she'd be able to afford it either. But you know, it would be pretty stupid for both of us to go, even if we both gave a damn about the outcome and had the money."

"Right, lots of Hogwarts students…. And I'd bet fifty Galleons that Malfoy'll be there, with his father's connection at the Ministry. But it's just a waste of time, and I doubt any teachers are going to go—World Cup matches have lasted several days before, and it's only a couple days before term—"

But Severus stopped abruptly, for there was a sudden, sharp pain in his left forearm, and his breath had hitched in his chest at the shock. His right hand flew instantly to his Dark Mark, which was covered by two layers of cloth, but he realized what he was doing a second after his fingers had brushed it, and moved them away.

Vesperra had felt Severus's arm jerk upward, though, and had noticed him briefly touching his left forearm as well. She whipped her head around to look at him, but his face was impassive. He raised his brow casually, and she frowned.

"You okay?" she said, looking at his arm.

"I'm fine," he lied.

"You just suddenly stopped talking and grabbed your left arm." Her lips pursed and her voice had dropped to a deadpan.

"It stung—I thought a biting ant or something had gotten in my sleeve, but now it's gone. I probably imagined it," replied Severus evenly. That was only a half-lie; he had, indeed, felt his forearm sting—like a bee sting, not like what it always felt like when the Dark Lord used to call him.

It sent a sense of panic and dread through him as well as confusion that he kept well-hidden beneath the surface…. His Dark Mark had not burned or caused him the slightest bit of discomfort (not physical, anyway) in thirteen years. Part of him knew it must have been a sign that Voldemort was gaining power, which he'd been searching for, but another part of him wanted to deny it. It very well could have been an ant that had crawled into his sleeve from a tree biting him, or he could have just imagined it…. And then the resigned part of him told the rest of him that he was stupid for telling himself that this didn't mean anything.

Still, two options were clear before him now, as he continued walking with Vesperra: _Tell her now, or later._ For the life of him, he could not possibly imagine how to explain to her _now_ that he used to be a Death Eater. But he also knew he would hate himself for a while if he continued to keep it from her.

He chose later.

_During the year, that's what I decided,_ thought Severus. _There's plenty more time, and now isn't a good one._ Besides, the very fact that he was denying the sting himself prevented him from admitting it to Vesperra. This was the coward coming out in him—he always tended to be less brave when it came to relationships than he did during the action. He was horribly ashamed of it, as it was the stupid, immature trait that had caused him to make the mistake of pushing Lily away as a child and never telling her how he felt about her…. And he was currently paying for it. Vesperra was the only good thing that had come to him after the mistake that had ruined his life, and he was fully aware of the fact that he was letting his fears control him and making the same mistake again with _another_ person he loved dearly… but he just couldn't tell her now. He just couldn't.

Vesperra found no reason not to believe him, but couldn't help but be slightly suspicious, as it was in her nature, even though she was letting it go. But before she had the chance to fill the silence with a topic other than Quidditch, she felt something constrict under her foot where she had stepped, and pulled her foot back immediately.

Almost concealed by the leaves underfoot was a dusty brown snake, which uncoiled, then raised its triangular head and looked directly at her.

"Sorry," she said to it, the words coming out as strangled hissing noises. "I didn't see you there."

"_Well, that'ssss a good thing, isssn't it?" _it hissed back."_My camouflage issss working, then. Although, I'll have to find a new place to hide, ssssince you just sssscared away all my food._"

Severus, as he had heard Vesperra speaking Parseltongue, had looked in alarm down at the ground and stopped. He could only furrow his brow uncomfortably and stare as she continued talking to the snake.

"Sorry again. We'll just be leaving, so we won't be a bother anymore…."

"_But wait, you can sssspeak the language of snakessss…. I have never met a human that could do that before. And I can sensssse that you and your friend are different than other humanssss, and yet he cannot sssspeak the language…. You can do magic, can't you?_"

"Yes, but we really should be going. Just… go and continue hunting."

The snake bowed its head in a brief nod and slithered away on command, and for a moment Vesperra watched it, feeling a bit of satisfaction at being able to control snakes as well as talk to them. But then she remembered that Severus was standing right next to her, and turned awkwardly to him.

"That's extremely creepy, you know," he said, starting to walk again and pulling her with him. He pushed aside a branch so she could get through two narrow trees. "Could you just… not do that?"

She almost laughed. "I'll try to refrain from talking to snakes when you're around, Severus…. But you know I can't help it. Besides, that ability's proven useful in the past, hasn't it?"

"It has, but for someone who has no experience speaking with snakes, it's rather creepy to see the way your throat convulses for you to hiss like that." It was also rather disturbing to know your best friend had the same ability as Lord Voldemort, especially considering the dream he'd had a week ago.

They soon made it past the thick brambles and back to the more distantly spaced trees, where there was almost no sign of life, and then to the open area by the river. The still gray sky came into view, which was like a canvas on which an old, disused mill and rows of brick houses in the distance were painted. By the time they reached the wire fence again, Vesperra began shivering a bit from the cold. Severus briefly let go of her hand to brush the broken leaves and stickers off of her hair and back, at which she was both annoyed and secretly thankful for the gesture in itself.

Slightly uneasy from what he thought he had felt earlier, Severus walked a bit stiffly on his way back to the house. The wind was stronger than before, and just as they came within view of his back door, they felt a few water droplets falling from above.

"Rather convenient, isn't it?" said Vesperra as they stepped inside. They had made it in the house hardly wet at all.

"Indeed," murmured Severus, walking over to close the curtains to the window in the kitchen. "I fancy a bowl of hot soup right now…. You?"

Vesperra's pride that kept her from accepting food from Severus had been long forgotten, so she smiled, rubbing her face so that the friction would warm her up. "Sure."

* * *

**I hope I did well in establishing a different mood than the past couple first chapters had in this... Things are getting dark, aren't they? And I'm glad I was able to add some new depth to Vesperra's parents.**

**I know I said it in the beginning A/N, but just in case you forgot while reading, I want to know what you guys think about me starting a Tumblask blog for Severus and Vesperra. If you don't know what that is, it would be on Tumblr (obviously) and would involve anyone who reads this story (well, anyone who wants to follow the blog, really) asking questions to Severus and Vesperra, requesting pitcures, suggesting things, etc... And I'd answer with a picture if I thought it was a good question. Tell me in the reviews if you like that idea!**

**Speaking of reviews, _please_ leave a review even if you don't feel like commenting about Tumblask! ^_^**


	48. Book 4: Chapter 2

**WOOT, NEW CHAPTER! Thank you so much for all the reviews, guys! Also, I started the blog for Severus and Vesperra, the link to which is in my profile, so you can ask Vesperra and Severus questions personally now! ^_^ Oh, and if any of you guys like the show _Sherlock_ on BBC, I wrote a one-shot. **

**Anyway, I'll warn you that the F-bomb is used once in this chapter. Just so you know.**

* * *

With a simple flick of his ankle to the right, Severus had turned on his heel and was spinning through time and space itself. The warm, yet faded hues of his sitting room vanished, to be replaced by the familiar swirling colors that had no place being together—and that was because they were several places at once. He felt the pit of his stomach drop slightly, but he was so used to it that, when he appeared in a darkened alley a moment later, he didn't lose his balance at all.

Straightening his cloak, he took a surveying glance around. It wasn't suspicious for him to be here, as he took detours down here almost regularly, but it was a paranoid habit of his that had lingered since his childhood. But the sweeping look was also to confirm what direction he was facing so that he would know which way to walk.

A few people were in his sight, their faces hidden under hoods or bandages. Some of them didn't want their identities known while they were shopping for such… _illicit _items, and some were simply too ugly to want to show their faces in public. All of them were fairly intimidating and unpleasant figures, but none of them showed Severus any interest. Most of them had seen him down this alley many times before and knew his reputation, and those that hadn't would have noticed the confident atmosphere around him anyway. His demeanor was just as frightening.

Knockturn Alley seemed quieter than usual—not that it was usually a rowdy place. It wasn't that the people trading illegal items were trying to be more discreet about it, though; it was just less busy. And it wasn't particularly unusual, either, since some days simply had less business going on than others.

Severus was in his usual robes, and didn't have a hood up to hide his face. He walked past several shops and dim torches that lined the damp walls, squinting slightly to see through the smoke that was clouding the alley. Anyone that might have turned their head a fraction of an inch for a brief glance at him would have thought that he was planning to purchase something for Dark purposes, or possibly ask about a rare Potions ingredient in stock at the Apothecary, or a supposedly Dark book that wasn't yet in his possession, but they would have all been wrong. His intention was far less sinister, and possibly the least sinister thing one could go to Knockturn Alley for.

He tried to hurry, for he wanted almost nothing less than to come across Lucius Malfoy here—if he _was_ here. The last time his old friend had seen him, he'd insisted on striking up a conversation and Severus made it home a half hour later than he'd intended. Vesperra had been getting impatient, and he certainly hadn't told her what had kept him. She got angry anytime either of the Malfoys was mentioned, especially after she'd discovered that the older of them had once dated her mum. It felt strange to talk to Lucius now, and even more so in the company of Draco.

As Severus turned a corner, a woman's profile with dirty-blonde hair came into sight, and he stopped abruptly. It was precisely the shade of Vesperra's.

But in the next moment, he realized several things that proved this could _not_ be Vesperra: the woman was too tall, her nose was normal-sized, and her hair was somewhat fluffed out—not greasy. This was Vesperra's mother.

The woman turned and began walking in the direction Severus had come from, but then she caught sight of him and stopped as well. He was the first person to take a step forward and slowly walk toward the other, the sound of each step suddenly much louder than it should have been. Both of them were scowling, and Severus folded his arms over his chest, glaring over his hooked nose at her. She wasn't quite tall enough to see eye-to-eye with him, but not short enough for him to have to bend his neck at a large angle from only three feet away. The hatred radiating from them was mutual, and Severus was glad Vesperra didn't look entirely like her mother, or else he'd have had a hard time staring with such loathing at that face.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, unintentionally baring his teeth. It wasn't so much that he thought the woman shouldn't be in Knockturn Alley as it was that he hated having to see this woman again. He'd had enough of her a year ago, and he figured she'd had enough of him, too, after he'd burst into her sitting room and nearly killed her.

"Working," Vesperra's mother said flatly, though coldly at the same time. She folded her own arms, and continued to glare at him. Their brows were furrowed and their eyes were narrowed, locked on each other's as though the first one to break the mutual glare would lose. It was a battle of whose hatred was stronger, he was sure.

"Ah—got a new job, then?" said Severus silkily, the words dripping off his tongue like acid. He couldn't help himself. "How easy was it to find one when you were fired from the last one and—I'm just guessing here, based on what you did when you came home—had a violent row with your employer before they finally kicked you out? But—of course—the shops around here aren't looking for particularly qualified or sane people, are they?"

Severus was delighted to see the woman fuming and almost at a loss for words, and he allowed his lips to stretch into a smirk. Her left hand twitched towards her pocket, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was seriously considering using her wand on him.

"Oh, you wouldn't want to do that," he advised in a would-be-casual tone. "I'm not the type to toot my own horn, but I'm much more magically skilled than you. I'm telling you this for your own good—not sure why I should care, though. And if by some chance you did manage to hurt me,"—He lowered his voice and stepped closer towards her, now barely moving his lips—"Vesperra would be rather angry. I daresay you know the extent of her control over her anger, and it's not very high. That curse I used on you last time? _She_ invented it. I wouldn't put it past her to use it on you once she discovered you cursed her only friend."

The hateful look on the woman's face momentarily flickered into fear, and Severus felt satisfied.

"What are _you_ doing here, then, if you're so interested in my purpose here?" she growled, craning her neck slightly in an obvious attempt to appear intimidating. It didn't work.

"Actually, that's a good question," said Severus calmly, "since I figured that I might as well ask, now that you're here—Would you mind if I gave Vesperra a pet snake for her birthday? I would have gotten one for her without your permission anyway, but would you care?"

Vesperra's mother looked taken aback, and Severus raised an eyebrow. "A snake—you want to buy her a _snake_ as a present?" she sputtered.

"She likes them, in case you haven't noticed all the years you've been her mother. Unless you've had a sudden change of heart and actually _want_ to give her something this year, and you planned on getting her the same thing? Hm… for some reason, that doesn't seem very likely to me."

While he spoke, Severus kept his voice down. He dreaded the thought of Lucius Malfoy rounding the corner and happening to pick up on the conversation— it would have been bad enough with the man just seeing his friend and former girlfriend talking in Knockturn Alley.

"She's a Parselmouth," whispered Vesperra's mother. "You think it's a good idea for her to own a snake?"

"Once again, you've proved your intelligence far beyond my own. No, I didn't take this into consideration whatsoever…," Severus sneered, sarcasm dripping so thickly from his voice that there must have been a puddle of it at his feet by now. He sighed irritably. "_Where_ Vesperra got her genius, I'll never know…. If you think I planned on giving her a venomous or relatively dangerous snake, you're wrong. I also highly doubt she's going to set it on you or your husband—in fact, I think she'll make sure not to let her father know she's got a pet at all."

The woman shifted uncomfortably, then took a short, sharp breath. "Fine," she said stiffly, giving him a scathing look much like the one Vesperra often gave to Malfoy. "Give her whatever you like, Snape, it doesn't even matter whether or not I care…."

And with that, she stepped to the side and continued walking, her head slightly bowed in what looked like mingled resentment and humiliation. Severus tilted his head briefly and saw her disappear into a shop on the right of the alley, and wondered if she loathed not having any control over her daughter anymore. People in positions of power rarely got over it easily when their power was lost. It _crippled_ them.

_Well, she deserves to be crippled,_ thought Severus as he walked a few paces toward the shop he was headed to. _Both mentally and physically._ But being mentally crippled was worse, he knew this. That woman had had her daughter in a state of fear and physical weakness for years, and now it was time for _her_ to feel the fear, to be so bruised that a single hug would bring horrible pain. _As if anyone's going to hug her._

Stopping in front of the display windows of the shop, he peered inside. There were several cages full of Dark creatures, many of which were most likely illegal to trade. He had hardly ever been in here before, since he wasn't generally interested in creatures unless they were supplying ingredients for potions. Before he had become rather subdued when it came to his interest in the Dark Arts, he had studied them often, and he still knew how to defend himself against most of them. That didn't mean he wanted to be near them.

He pushed the door open and saw that the place was completely empty but for a man near the back who had his back turned and was bending down near a cage, likely feeding something. The man's head twitched upward at the sound of the door creaking shut, and he hastily finished whatever he was doing before he whirled around.

"My apologies, sir," he said as he straightened his robes. There was an air of smugness about him, and his smooth, dark hair and broad shoulders were vaguely familiar. Suddenly, the man's eyes widened as though he had only just looked at Severus properly. "Professor Snape!"

He raised one eyebrow and folded his arms, sweeping his eyes across the all cages in the room. "Former student, I'm guessing? I don't think I remember who you are."

"Damien Gerard—sir. I was probably one of the worst students you've ever had."

Severus tilted his head back and gave a small nod. "Ah—yes. You melted a total of seventeen cauldrons in just one year. Although, there's plenty of students now that are worse—but down to business. What sort of snakes do you have?"

After being shown a few different varieties and deciding on a magical breed of Brazilian Boa Constrictor, Severus took a few seconds to think about whether this was a stupid idea. Part of him found the idea of Vesperra having a pet snake too much like Voldemort having a pet snake, but another part of him wanted her to have company while he wasn't around. It would be like another friend for her, and he knew she'd be extremely happy once he gave it to her. So he didn't change his mind.

"How much?" he asked.

"Thirty Galleons—but I have to warn you, that one has a bit of a short temper. It's a female, and, you know… she can get a bit bitchy."

At that, he frowned inwardly, feeling almost insulted. Vesperra was a female, and she most certainly was not ever "bitchy."

"It's fine, I can handle it." Severus walked over to the counter, shoved his hand inside his robes for his pouch of money, and extracted the amount of gold he needed.

"Right then, she's yours now, Prof—ah—sir." Damien seemed unsure whether to address Severus the same way he had for seven years before leaving Hogwarts, which was how it often was whenever he had the surprise of seeing his old students—the ones that hadn't hated him, at least.

Before he could do any more than nod in acknowledgement, the man held up a finger, and continued, "Wait—if you don't mind me asking… do you know Vesperra D'Monicas?"

He was instantly robbed of breath, and his body froze entirely. Severus seriously wondered whether he had heard Damien correctly, but tried not to show his shock or any of the questions that were forming in his mind on his face or with his bodily movements.

"Yes," said Severus slowly. "Why?"

"She's—she's a friend. I knew you must have known her, since she's a current student of yours, but I just wondered whether you liked her. I know she's really skilled at Potions—and she respects you, a lot."

_I'd bloody hope so, she's my best friend…._ Severus wanted to ask this man how he had come to be friends with Vesperra, but he knew it would be suspicious for him to appear to care about her personal life. He could have used Legilimency, but right now, he was focusing too hard on not being overwhelmed with confusion.

"She's probably my best student, so of course I respect her—but you've been in my classes, you know I don't tend to take likings to any of my students. Now, I'll be going."

At once, he crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the handle of the cage, and, his head swimming, he pulled out his wand and turned on his heel. When he arrived back in the middle of his sitting room with a _pop_, he immediately set the cage on the ground and stumbled over to his chair, then slumped down in it, holding his head in his hands.

_Friends._ That man had said he and Vesperra were friends. How could they be, if Vesperra had never told _him_, her best friend? This simply didn't make any sense—why would she keep this from him, lie to him? No, she hadn't really lied, she had just neglected to mention that she had another friend, and another older friend at that. He tried to reason with himself, and keep from getting angry: There had to be _something_ that kept her from mentioning Damien to him… she likely had a good reason….

But it wasn't enough. Severus felt completely and utterly betrayed, and his heart hurt very much. Clutching at his chest, he realized that he could hardly breathe, and also that he was shaking. He was _so angry_ at her—he wanted to tell her to come over, and then yell at her and see just how hurt _she_ was, and he wanted to _kill_ Damien for some irrational reason….

Severus sat there in his chair for the longest time, ignoring the hissing of the boa in the cage and holding his pounding head. He hadn't taken out his journal and talked to Vesperra, so she would have assumed he was still busy. After a while, he had calmed down somewhat, and an idea came to him. It was so vindictive, almost too much for Vesperra, whom he cared deeply for no matter what she did to him; but he decided to use it, for he was still furious, however irrationally.

_Nothing like a surprise attack._

* * *

"Spinner's End!"

Vesperra kept her arms firmly at her sides and held her breath as she spun through the flames, catching quick glimpses of other Wizarding homes and places that connected to the Floo network. No more than three seconds later, she was standing in Severus's fireplace.

Stepping out onto his floor, she brushed the ash off herself, at first not noticing the large obstruction sitting in front of the small table that was in the middle of his sitting room. She made a double-take, then stared at it for a minute before turning to Severus, who was sitting casually on his couch, and had the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands. He smirked, noticing her shock and disbelief, but said nothing.

"Severus—this—_did you get me this_?" she breathed, her back arching slightly as she pointed at the glass cage. The snake inside of it raised its head and flicked its forked tongue lazily at her, and she walked over to it and dropped to her knees.

"No, that snake appeared in here overnight—your real present is a ball of pocket lint from my robes," he replied dryly.

Vesperra's head whipped upward, and she gave him a look that clearly said, _"Oh, shut up."_ It was obvious from her amazed expression as she resumed staring at the boa that he had been right, and she did absolutely love it.

But right now, Severus could only pretend that he was happy she was happy. Well, it wasn't entirely pretending—he couldn't help but want her to be happy today, because he was still her friend, however hurt he was. His plan had been to act like everything was normal and not even mention Damien until after he had given her the present, catching her off-guard. Part of him felt bad for deliberately manipulating someone he loved just for revenge, but another part felt that she deserved this.

"Wait, but Severus…" Vesperra tore her gaze from the cage and stood up, frowning at him. "A snake like this must have been really expensive." She was extremely grateful for this, but upon realizing that this creature was high-maintenance, she'd felt a pang in her chest.

"So was the Antimony and that book." He remained seated, but folded one leg over the other. "I wanted you to have someone to talk to when you couldn't talk to me—and I've always heard that people with pets were generally happier than those without."

She had to admit, he had her there. They were even as far as expensive gifts went, and she really couldn't argue about this. Vesperra had come to the point in her relationship with Severus where she would actually have been disappointed if he didn't get her anything for her birthday.

Her lips twitched into a smile, and in hardly two seconds, she had made it over to the couch and practically thrown herself on Severus, hugging him around the neck and pressing her cheek into his.

"Happy Birthday," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back. One of her hugs was not exactly comforting right now, and he very nearly had the urge to push her off of him, but he controlled himself.

"Thank you _so bloody much_, Severus…. I love—it." Vesperra caught herself just in time, and was very relieved when she did. Loosening her hold around his neck, she shifted herself so that she was sitting beside him, though with her legs still overlapping with his.

Smirking, he grabbed her right hand, and said, "I thought you would."

"You know…," said Vesperra slowly, "I'm sort of tempted to name it after you."

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, because then he would be Severus Snake." She kept a serious expression for a few seconds before breaking into a sheepish smile, and his smirk turned into a sort of half-grimace.

"Oh, like I haven't heard that one before…. And it would actually be pretty strange if you named it 'Severus,' because it's a female."

Vesperra was about to ask how he could tell, but then she realized that he obviously must have bought the snake somewhere, and instead asked, "Where did you get her, then?"

For a moment, he stopped breathing; but he didn't let his expression falter. This was the question that would start it all. "A shop in Knockturn Alley."

And then she stopped breathing as well, but her reaction wasn't so discrete. Severus could see her pupils dilate and feel her hand muscles tense up, but was oddly not satisfied at all. He supposed he didn't really _want _to hurt her, and so he wasn't going to be happy about it, but he still felt he had to do it.

The fact that Severus must have met Damien suddenly hovered over everything else, and Vesperra panicked. Severus seemed casual about it, so she began to calm down and thought that he still had no idea of anything else. Hopefully he hadn't noticed her awkwardly long pause and gotten suspicious.

"Oh."

"You know," he started to say, feeling previously controlled anger bubble up inside him as he shifted himself, letting go of her hand, "the man that ran that shop—Damien, he said his name was—asked me if I knew you." Severus was speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully and allowing cold anger to fill his voice. As he did, he watched Vesperra's eyes fill with horror. "He said that you were his friend. And I thought that was funny, because you've _never_ mentioned him."

He didn't say it, but his expression following that was one that said, _"Care to explain?"_ All Vesperra could do was sit there, practically choking on her own heart, for it had left her chest for fear of breaking and lodged itself in her throat. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and when it appeared to Severus as though his friend had nothing to say to him, he stood up from the couch and turned his back on her, walking towards the opposite wall.

_No, no, no, no, no, this cannot be happening, he _couldn't_ have found out…._ All the air seemed to have left Vesperra's lungs, all oxygen had left her brain, and her heart had nothing to do but sit there in her throat, which was constricting tighter and tighter from the dread…. It _was_ happening. Only a couple seconds later did her sight drift back into focus and she realized that Severus had left the couch. Quickly, she twisted her body around to see him standing in front of the fireplace, leaning on it with one hand and facing away from her.

"Severus," said Vesperra in a choked voice, standing up, "you don't understand—"

"I don't understand _what_, Vesperra?" said Severus calmly, turning around with almost frightening speed, and yet not blowing up in a fit of rage. "What, exactly, don't I understand? You've known me for years; you know I'm fairly intelligent, and I've guessed quite a lot of it. Damien's rather fond of Dark Magic, like you, I imagine? And I bet you've been into Knockturn Alley plenty of times to go have fun experimenting with Dark Magic, which you can't do with me, because I don't like it."

Vesperra was shaking; she'd have preferred that he yell at her than to have him being so cold towards her. "No, it's nothing like—"

"This is nothing like the last secret kept between us," he said, his anger now more evident in his voice. "I didn't tell you about your relatives being Death Eaters because I was scared, and because I cared about you. This—_this is complete betrayal_. What reason could you possibly have for never telling me, hm? Oh, and it can't be a selfish one, either."

"I went into Knockturn Alley long before I ever promised you I'd avoid the Dark Arts, Severus!" said Vesperra, her voice broken. She was on the verge of crying, for she could tell that he might just stop trusting her or even talking to her now. Had she made a rift in their friendship? "I met him before second year, and I didn't tell you afterward because I didn't want you to be angry with me—"

"Too late for that."

"God dammit, Severus, I'm sorry!" Vesperra unconsciously clutched at her head, which was now swimming with pain like the rest of her body. "But—I—I couldn't just avoid him and never talk to him again—"

"And why's that?" he snarled.

"He's my cousin, Severus."

His heart skipped a beat, and he froze. Severus's dangerously calm look faded at once into a frown, and his anger abated. "Cousin?"

"Yes." Vesperra's chest was heaving, but she was considerably less frightened now. "My aunt is his mum. I—I went into his shop the first time I went into Knockturn Alley, because there was this butterfly-sort of creature called an Emberys—it had these mesmerizing effects, and… and he just talked to me. He realized that I was a Lestrange by my ring, and—told me that we were cousins."

It felt stupid to continue to lie to him, but Vesperra was trying to get him to forgive her. Telling Severus that she'd helped Damien murder his mother's husband wouldn't have helped with that at all, and would most definitely have made things worse. He might never discover the whole truth, just like he had yet to find out about what she'd done to Malfoy in her first year. If she could, she would take this secret to the grave.

"So… have you met your aunt as well, then?" asked Severus.

"No—she never actually married Damien's father. It was more of a fling—but either way, she doesn't live anywhere near Knockturn Alley…. Listen, Severus, I know I should have told you once I realized I had a cousin, but—but I just couldn't figure out _how_. I thought you'd still be angry at me for ever having gone into Knockturn Alley, and to be honest, I wouldn't have even considered him my friend if he had never mentioned it. I've only spoken to him a few times in person, anyway. But he's the only real family I got—he doesn't hate me like my parents, do, and—"

She stopped there, unable to think of anything else to say. At this point, she was no longer looking at Severus's face, but at his shoes. Even though things had calmed down, she was still afraid to face him. There was the underlying fear that he wouldn't forgive her, and the shame of ever having gone into Knockturn Alley in the first place.

_Damn. Dammit, I'm a bloody idiot. There _was _a reason, and I just broke her, just like that, without even letting her explain first…._ But at least Severus had given her the chance to explain.

After a minute of silence, Vesperra decided that he must not have had anything to say to her and turned to sit back down on his couch. Severus watched her, now on the other side of the fight, and wondered if she was angry at _him_ now. Part of him—just a tiny part of him—was still mad, but he fought that part back. He couldn't let himself be angry anymore.

Minutes (though they felt like hours) passed, and neither of them said anything. Severus didn't move from where he was standing, but instead reflected with self-disgust at how his temper had controlled him in the worst possible way—turned him into a vindictive bastard. And on her _birthday_…_ Merlin, why would I fucking do this to her on her birthday?_

Could he even blame her, after all that _he_ kept from her? Most of his life was a complete secret to her, and even now, in the aftermath of a row like this, he couldn't bring himself to walk over there and tell her about him being a former Death Eater. Was it still his cowardice? Or had he simply had enough for today?

"You deserve a better friend than me," he finally said, his voice soft and resigned. Vesperra looked up and watched him walk to his armchair. "You deserve someone that doesn't try to hurt their best friend on her birthday."

_Oh God, he's forgiving me, isn't he? Damn, now I feel like the stupid one…._

"You deserve someone who's a bit braver and isn't afraid to tell you the truth," said Vesperra. "And someone who's a bit more emotionally stable."

"I'm not even emotionally stable."

"Which is why you need someone who _is_, so they can subdue you. Someone who fully understands what feelings are, and isn't just winging it when it's something other than anger or happiness. Two extremes."

Severus stared at her for a moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Vesperra, I really am. But I couldn't help feeling like my only friend had betrayed me—and you know, I really don't mind you having other friends. I just feel like it's the sort of thing you should tell me."

"For the record, Severus, Damien is hardly close to me at all. He's my cousin, and sort of a friend, but—think about it this way: I'm only at the point where, if he died, I would care a little bit. Maybe or maybe not enough to attend his funeral. And I really don't intend to get extremely close to him."

"That's a bit morbid, isn't it?" said Severus rhetorically, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. _Morbid, yes… that's definitely Vesperra for you._ He stood up from his armchair and went over to sit beside her again. "And while we're on the subject, your mother apparently works in Knockturn Alley now. Or has she already told you?"

It felt awfully unnatural to be acting so casual after a row that nearly led to tears, but Vesperra was glad for it. She grabbed his hand, but slight trepidation prevented her from leaning into him right away.

"She _hasn't_ told me, actually…. She's hardly spoken to me this summer. I'm guessing you saw her there?"

"And spoke to her. It wasn't a friendly conversation, I assure you."

"I wouldn't have thought so. Do you know which shop she works in?"

"No, I didn't see…." And suddenly, unexpectedly, vague memories and thoughts pieced themselves together in Severus's mind, and his pupils dilated. "Hold on—_Damien_ gave you the Antimony, didn't he?"

Vesperra was surprised that he'd ask that so suddenly, but not worried, since his tone was calm and merely curious. "Yes, he did."

_Looks like you've got _two_ men who would do almost anything for you, then,_ thought Severus. It was rather ironic, actually.

When he didn't respond immediately, Vesperra frowned, squeezed his hand, and said, "So… are we good? We're not going to be in a rough patch in our friendship, are we?"

"Yeah, we're good." Severus remembered having extremely similar conversations with Lily about twenty years ago, most of the times they ever fought. He realized that he actually fought much less with Vesperra. "We're absolutely fine."

"And you still trust me?"

Giving her a curious look, Severus moved his arm around her waist, but held her at arms length for a moment. "Of course I do," he said. "Does it really matter that much to you?"

Relieved, she leaned into his side and buried her face in his robes. At the moment, Vesperra couldn't remember having ever been more relieved about something in her life. Turning her head so that her cheek rested on his side, she said, "Your trust is _everything_, Severus."

Even though she didn't feel like she deserved it.

* * *

Things went to normal between them almost instantly, so it was slightly awkward at first. They wouldn't have expected any differently, since the both of them apologized to each other repeatedly throughout her birthday. Once she'd gone home, Vesperra decided that it was good, in a way, that this had happened; at least she had gotten it over with. There were still so many things she kept Severus in the dark about, but telling him the _entire_ truth would surely ruin their friendship altogether.

She had also realized that this was Damien's fault. It was _Damien_ who had very nearly torn apart their relationship, even though he had absolutely no idea she and Severus had anything but a teacher-student relationship. Still, it felt good to blame someone, and she was angry at him. Vesperra didn't want to talk to him, but she figured that she might as well tell him about Severus and make him feel horrible for what he almost caused. But that could wait.

That snake truly was an amazing present on Severus's part, and Vesperra was happy not only for the extra companion, but also for simply the opportunity to use her gift daily. Admittedly, she had grown to like being a Parselmouth, however much it set her apart from the others and gave her likeness to Potter. It made her special, more special than the other wizards and witches her age were.

Vesperra had decided on the name Artemis, which she'd remembered being mentioned in her Ancient Runes class. It was the name of the Greek goddess of the hunt, and she was also supposedly a protector of maidens. She didn't think it would ever be necessary for her pet to protect her, but the name just seemed to fit.

A few weeks later, her father had still failed to notice the extra guest in the house, which she was glad for. Of course, she wasn't being careless with Artemis; the boa was kept in her cage in Vesperra's room when her parents were home, and otherwise she let her snake drape itself on her shoulders or around her arms whilst she read or did other things. So far, she had realized that Artemis could be very useful in the near future; she could be a spy. As a snake that could move silently and without detection, she could make her way through tight spots and spy on anything, should it ever be necessary, and then return and tell Vesperra what she had seen.

One day around the beginning of August, Vesperra was laying long-ways on the sitting room couch, Artemis slithering around her neck and going in loops around her limbs. With virtually nothing to do, she had her hands folded over her stomach and was staring at the ceiling.

"You'll tire yourself out if you do that for too long," advised Vesperra, glancing at an energetic Artemis, who was currently winding herself around her leg. At once, the boa's muscles relaxed, and she made to slither back over to her master's—or mistress's?—shoulders, but—"No, don't stop. It's fine. It's like a massage, really."

Artemis's coil-like muscles pulsed every second that she continued to move, and Vesperra found it oddly relaxing. It was only a few minutes later that it occurred to her that this restlessness might be because of her snake not having eaten in about a week.

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to let you outside so you can hunt?"

"_Yessss, I would like that…._" she said. Her voice, as heard by Vesperra in English, sounded like that of a young woman just a bit older than her.

Sighing, she stood up and let Artemis leave through the back door, and then retreated to her spot on the couch. Neither of her parents would be home for at least a couple hours and Severus was out doing something important for the day, so now there was nothing to keep her busy—not including the various books she owned and had re-read several times, and all the spells she could have practiced for the heck of it. But it was just one of those days where there were so many things to do, but she just didn't feel like doing them. Vesperra had experienced this many times before, just as she had experienced countless hours of truly nothing to do at all. She had learned to entertain herself with her thoughts rather than doing something destructive, however great the urge to do so was—but why merely lay down and _think_ when there was something right in front of you?

As she sat back down and shifted herself so that she was on her back, she stared at the blank screen of the television set on the other side of the small sitting room. For a long time, she had wondered how this metal box kept Muggles entertained… and now she had a chance to find out, didn't she? She'd had glimpses of the "shows" her father watched on that thing whenever she'd ever walk by it, but her mother had always kept her away from Muggle devices like that and she had never used it—not that she'd ever wanted to. From what she had gathered over the years, television had sports, news, comedy, and something called porn, which she'd had the most unpleasant surprise of seeing as a small child.

But after all, there was still that inquisitive part of her that wanted to know just _what_ exactly this thing had as far as its appeal towards Muggles went. So, not entirely shamelessly, she reached for the remote and pointed it at the television box, pressing the button that she was pretty sure would turn it on.

Feeling like such a damn Muggle, Vesperra flipped through what she thought were called "channels"—she might have been wrong—and watched some of each one. It actually took her a couple tries to get the correct button; she vaguely wondered whether any of the Pureblood students at Hogwarts would have any idea what to do in the face of a television.

The first thing that had appeared on the screen was an advertisement for some sort of Muggle liquor, from which she had clicked away at once. For all the rest that weren't commercials as well, Vesperra had to watch for about five to ten minutes to figure out what it was about. At some point, she was surprised (and yet not so surprised) to come across a Muggle film about a rather well-known wizard—Sherlock Holmes.

Well, the Muggles didn't know he was magical at all. But he was mentioned in several books from the Hogwarts library, and even once or twice in _A History of Magic_; Sherlock had been known for being one of the few wizards in history to decide to not only befriend a Muggle, but also surround himself with Muggles and use his magic only to help them as a consulting detective for policemen. He had also apparently been very skilled in wandless magic, and was probably one of the most famous Ravenclaws to ever attend Hogwarts. According to several of the mentions of him that Vesperra had read, the Muggle versions of his stories had been tweaked a little to make sense to them, though his manner of death in them had indeed been true.

Having never read any of the extremely more accurate abridgements of Sherlock Holmes's adventures, Vesperra couldn't really criticize anything in this Muggle film adaptation, but she still knew that they must have had several things wrong.

"—put it all together and what have you got?" Watson was saying on the screen.

"Murder, my dear Watson. Refined, cold-blooded, murder," said Sherlock.

"Murder?"

"There's no—"

But at that, Vesperra decided that she'd watched enough of this and wanted to see what else there was.

For anything that automatically seemed stupid after only a few minutes (which were mostly commercials), she changed it immediately, but she did give others a chance and watched a fair amount of whatever it was. After an hour, she had come across a film called Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, a show called Doctor Who that was highly confusing and yet the sort of thing she'd imagine wizards enjoying, and a few "talk shows" that she found rather annoying.

It wasn't enough that she wanted to live like a Muggle, but Vesperra had to admit that television wasn't absolutely horrible. However, she did soon realize the enormous drawbacks to a device like this: losing track of time.

Very suddenly, she heard the sound of keys being jammed into the lock on the other side of the front door, and she panicked. At once, she aimed the remote at the television box and turned it off, then practically launched upwards to get to her room—

"Just what the _hell_ were you doing?" came her father's gruff voice from behind her. Vesperra hadn't heard it speaking towards her in quite a long time, so it sounded much angrier than she remembered.

Knowing that continuing to run would make it worse, she swiveled around on one foot and landed firmly, facing him. The man's hair was grizzled, as he had likely had a tough day at work, and he reeked of fish, as usual. "Nothing," she said quickly.

"I'm not an idiot, I heard the telly on before I opened the door! What were you bloody watching it for?" Her father's scowl made his eyebrows look even thicker, and he began to hunch over a little, bearing over her.

"I—I was just having a look at it, I was bored—"

"And why the sodding hell should I believe that? You can do—you have—you have no reason to be messing with _my_ stuff! I thought you and your mum hated this stuff, hm? I thought you never wanted to touch things that _normal_ humans use!"

Vesperra was backing away very slowly, and momentarily had no idea what to say to her dad. Both disagreeing and agreeing would push her further into trouble. _Damn, why did I have to do this in the first-bloody-place?_

"I didn't break it or anything," she assured him in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice, "it's perfectly fine—"

"And you didn't put any of your damn witchcraft on it?" he barked, appearing as though he didn't believe that at all. In two surprisingly quick strides, he had advanced towards Vesperra and grabbed a fistful of her hair, nearly ripping it out as he pulled upward—and hard. "I don't want you _near_ the television, you hear me, girl?"

Refusing to cry out in pain, she gave a small nod. He didn't let go of her hair immediately, though, and she was stuck there. Her wand was perfectly accessible, but her father had her in an inconvenient position; if she tried to reach for her wand, he would be able to wrench it out of her hands before she managed to do anything.

"Your damn freak of a friend isn't here to help you now, is he?" her dad jeered, shaking the fist that held Vesperra's head, and causing her to inhale sharply. The man smiled, and she stared back in concealed horror. "And you know what, he may be your friend, but I still know something about you that he doesn't…. You're not gonna tell him about this. You're too damn proud to tell him. I'm right, aren't I?"

Slowly, reluctantly, and somewhat fearfully, she nodded. Her father then let go of her hair, and she didn't hesitate to start towards the hallway and run straight into her bedroom. Once she did, she mentally smacked herself for being so stupid, but then she realized that she couldn't be blamed for this at all. None of this, or any of her childhood abuse, was ever her fault, and she really had to convince herself of that.

_It was fun while it lasted, then…._ But she just wouldn't make that mistake anymore. And she most certainly was not going to admit this to Severus.

* * *

Early in the morning about halfway through August, Severus was taking a shower. The Muggle plumbing system was probably the only thing he had allowed to stay when he had magically remodeled this house years ago, as it was convenient and really not all that different from the means by which wizards and witches bathed. It was always adjustable by magic, anyway, so he never had to worry about the water getting cold or the toilet backing up.

Showers for Severus were often a time to think as well as washing himself off, because, for some inexplicable reason, anything was automatically less stressful to think about when under warm water. He had to leave the steam and water sometime, though, and his habits of self-discipline prevented him from staying in there for very long.

As he stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off his hair with, Severus inadvertently glanced down at his left forearm, and stopped at the sight of it. There wasn't anything particularly unusual or shocking, but he could have sworn that his Dark Mark was slightly darker now. He stood there, only vaguely aware that he was dripping wet as he stared at the faint outline of the branding he hated so much about himself.

Throughout the years, it had remained so faded that it would have been impossible to see from a distance of only ten or so feet, and Severus hadn't even looked at it in a long time before the previous month. And now, there was something inside of him that just _knew_ the Dark Mark had gotten darker, if only half of a shade.

Shoving away the fear and dread that was beginning to creep up on him, Severus rubbed his hair furiously with the towel, and then put it around his waist.

Only a week ago, he had applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for the thirteenth time, and failed. Honestly, he hadn't expected Dumbledore to say yes, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try…. And this year, it was different. Severus truly thought that it would be in the best interest of the students, namely Potter, if he was able to be the one to teach them how to defend themselves, considering the darkness that was looming over the world right now. And he had told Dumbledore exactly that, but the man had still refused as firmly as ever. His answer hadn't changed, and he could not be swayed.

Severus still didn't consider this proof. Whether it was because of his fear or because of his current grudge against the Headmaster, he was not going to tell Dumbledore about his suspicions. The slight darkening of his Dark Mark could just as easily have been in his imagination from the stress of all the constant searching for relevant news and having nothing to tell Vesperra or Dumbledore. For the second time, this felt stupid and childish to do, but he simply couldn't face it at the moment.

* * *

Oh Merlin, it was happening _again_….

Neither Severus nor Vesperra had cared when the Quidditch World Cup had come and passed, but there was something waiting for them—well, Severus—the next day. Severus stared, stony-faced, at the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. The title and picture were enough, and so he was not yet so much reading the article as he was just _looking_ at the mass of words. After finally reading it, his shortness of breath increased, and his first instinct was to reach inside his robes for his journal and tell Vesperra to come over right now.

* * *

Just as Vesperra arrived in his fireplace, Severus strode angrily past it; he'd been pacing impatiently for the past minute or so.

"Severus, what—?"

"I've finally found something," he said with bitter irony, handing her the rolled-up newspaper in his hand. "And I don't think it'll be very difficult for you to figure out how it connects."

Not even bothering to brush the ash off of herself, Vesperra took the _Daily Prophet_ in her hands and walked to his couch, looking just as shocked and horrified as Severus felt. For a moment, he forgot about his dread and brushed the ash off of her himself.

Across the top of the page was the headline: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_, and further down the page, Vesperra saw a picture of a Dark Mark glittering in a dark sky. Her eyes flew down the page, quickly reading all of it while her mind could only take in parts of it….

"Rita Skeeter wrote it," growled Severus when Vesperra seemed too shocked to speak, "so it's not entirely reliable, but we can be sure that all the basic facts are true."

"But—but this means that—_he's_ getting powerful already… this proves it, doesn't it?" Vesperra, though she was gripping Severus's hand so tightly that her knuckles were going white, moved her look of dread away from him and instead to the opposite wall, at which she let her sight defocus and subconsciously started to sink deeper into her mind. It was a bad habit for her to do that when things became especially stressful.

"It doesn't necessarily _prove_ it, but the facts add up…. But did you read the whole thing through? According to that, a group of wizards started harassing those Muggles _before_ the Dark Mark was discovered in the sky, and then they fled. That means—"

"—whoever cast it wasn't one of them," finished Vesperra for him, snapping her head back towards his face. "But why would they flee? If they were doing _that_ sort of thing to Muggles, wouldn't they likely be ex-Death Eaters?"

"They were afraid of retribution," said Severus a little too quickly. He paused, searching Vesperra's eyes and hoped that she hadn't found it suspicious. "I don't think they were starting the riots to parade the fact that the Dark Lord's return was near—in fact, I'm not sure how they would know that at all. No, they were just having a bit of… _fun_—" He loathed to call it that, for he had come to hate blood prejudice, "and then they got scared when they saw the Dark Mark, because they know that if and when he returns, they'll be punished for not trying to find him."

Vesperra didn't ask how he knew all of this and why he spoke of it with such surety, for it wasn't even registering to her. She was too busy trying to fathom all of this, and get it into her system that her world had just taken another step towards its turn for the worst.

"And… the person that conjured the Dark Mark—do you think they actually _did_ know that You-Know-Who was getting stronger?" Severus started to open his mouth, but Vesperra thought of something else and gasped sharply, cutting him off. "Wait—what if it was Pettigrew that did it? It would make sense, because once he found You-Know-Who, he would have wanted to signal to the rest of the Death Eaters that their master was coming back…."

Ignoring the near numbness in his hand from Vesperra's vice-like grip, Severus furrowed his brow slightly and leaned back into his couch. From Vesperra's view, the lank, black hair that usually framed his face had fallen away from it, and so the entire side of his pale face was visible. The lack of tones in his skin combined with the stony look in his eyes made him look almost dead for a second.

"That's possible—it could have been Pettigrew…," said Severus softly, only resisting the urge to put his fingers together in deep thought because one of his hands was currently being occupied by Vesperra's. "But I can't see him risking being caught by the Ministry to do that, especially not when he and the Dark Lord are most likely trying their best to be as inconspicuous as possible with his return. I doubt they would want anyone else to know until they were done with it, or else they'd risk the Ministry's early interference…. This sounds to me like there's simply a Death Eater out there that still has true allegiance to the Dark Lord even after all these years, and he or she wants to show that they're still powerful and that they believe he will return."

The most confusing part about it was that Severus had noticed no change in his Dark Mark after all of this…. That must have meant that nothing of significance had happened concerning Voldemort, and it was merely a follower's work—but was it? Could he _really_ be sure?

With her theory having been entirely debunked, Vesperra couldn't help but frown and let out a small huff, though she completely agreed with Severus's reasoning. She watched his own frown contort into a look of intense concentration, and saw a vein bulge just beneath his temple.

He was racking his brains for all the people he knew of that had been Death Eaters and avoided Azkaban after Voldemort's downfall. It was a few minutes later that, having exhausted his natural resources of thought, he unconsciously let out a low growl from the back of his throat and jerked his head slightly.

"Dammit—as far as I know, this doesn't make any sense," he told a confused-looking Vesperra, trying to calm down after remembering that she was still there. "The Lestranges were by far the most loyal to him, but they're in Azkaban—and we'd definitely know if they'd escaped. Lucius Malfoy never went looking for the Dark Lord—he'd have been part of the masked group, harassing those Muggles…."

"So you have no idea who it could have been?" asked Vesperra, both her voice and pupils growing smaller.

Severus inhaled deeply, frowned in frustration at himself, and said, "No."

All the rest of the others—Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Nott… they didn't seem any more likely. The only explanation Severus could form was that he was wrong about who was still loyal, or that Voldemort had had a follower even _he_ had never known about—possibly a spy, someone that had never even been in his inner circle only so that the others would not know.

He thought back to three years ago, when the man who had seemed the most unlikely to have sinister intentions had indeed had Voldemort on the back of his head, and then the year after, when the student most unlikely to have opened the Chamber of Secrets had turned out to be the culprit, with Voldemort possessing her. Severus was sure that nothing that happened in the future would ever be predictable, and therefore he could hardly rule out anyone as far as the Dark Mark's caster went. So he couldn't trust anyone, save Vesperra and Dumbledore.

And this got him nowhere—only more frustrated.

"What a wonderful way to end the summer," said Vesperra flatly, breaking the silence. She let herself fall harshly into the soft back of Severus's couch, and raised a hand to her now aching head. "But there's something rather surprising that isn't entirely to do with the Dark Mark itself."

"What's that?"

"Dumbledore hasn't shown up yet."

* * *

The Headmaster, even more surprisingly, had not made an appearance at Spinner's End at all that day. Severus would have thought that the old man would make it his priority to speak to the one ex-Death Eater in his service, and the fact that he _hadn't_ made him sure that Dumbledore had seen to taking care of more important things. Whatever those things were, neither Severus nor Vesperra could be sure, but the latter did have a guess.

It had definitely not been a day of relaxation for them. Like so many other days before, though spent in his office in the dungeons of Hogwarts instead of his sitting room, they hardly moved from their spots at his couch or did anything for recreation. There were no attempts from either of them to make things more casual by suggesting they have some tea, for they had known from experience that that would only make things more awkward and worse.

As usual, their only source of comfort while they theorized, repeating the same information over and over again simply to feel like they were getting somewhere, was the grip of the other's hand.

Vesperra had wanted to stay with him for longer, possibly into the night, if only she could be there whenever Dumbledore arrived (as he inevitably would), but it was still necessary for her to leave at least an hour or so before her father was scheduled to come home from work. And so, reluctantly, she had left Severus to continue worrying on his own.

The next morning, Severus snatched the _Daily Prophet_ from the post owl's talons hardly a second after it managed to fly in through the window, and it tumbled in midair before landing on its back on his kitchen table. Going unnoticed by him, the owl hooted indignantly, ruffled its speckled grey feathers, and left.

His eyes searched it hungrily from one page to the next, hoping to find an update on the story from yesterday—but the only thing mentioned was a pathetic excuse for an article stating that the perpetrator was yet to be caught and that the Dark Mark had so far faded from the sky.

Severus's morning breakfast and stressing-out was interrupted by a muffled cough-like sound and that of flames shooting upward suddenly—or of a blanket being whipped in the air to straighten it out. Those sounded relatively the same. He realized what it must have been within a second, and left his newspaper and half-empty mug of coffee in favor of the sitting room.

There, he saw Albus Dumbledore, who was dressed in his usual extravagantly layered robes and pointed wizard's hat, brushing the ash off of himself and onto the floor.

"You could call in and ask first, you know," said Severus, frowning. As eager—for want of a better word—as he was to speak with the man, he couldn't help but let the somewhat sarcastic words slip from his tongue. "Or at least announce that you're coming, instead of just suddenly arriving in my fireplace."

"I apologize, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly, though a bit quickly, "but it is important, and I confess I forgot the niceties generally observed in my rush."

"If it's important, then why didn't you come yesterday?" Severus folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"That is exactly what I came here to tell you," Dumbledore told him. His blue eyes twinkled mysteriously, and he continued, "Among other things. And it appears I'm not the only one who forgot something. Still stressed from yesterday, I'm guessing?"

For a second Severus's eyes narrowed further, but then he glanced down at himself and sighed inwardly—he was still wearing his nightclothes. He hadn't thought to take a shower that morning, and instead had merely pulled on a shirt. At least he hadn't been caught shirtless (which would have been even worse with Dumbledore in place of Vesperra)….

"I'll wait while you get yourself dressed, if you'd prefer," said Dumbledore without waiting for Severus's nod.

"No—you said it's important, so just tell me now. I'd rather not wait," said Severus in a throaty growl as he moved towards his armchair. The Headmaster gave a solemn nod and followed, taking a seat on the small couch across from him and looking quite out of place; everything about the old man, from his robes to his beard to simply his glasses, was so obviously magical and made such a stark contrast with the less-than-magical interior of Severus's house. The bookshelves on the wall weren't enough to mask the fact that this had originally been a Muggle house and that there were few things special about it.

It felt strange, taking like this, for both of them were used to these sort of conversations in Dumbledore's office—but Severus didn't feel it necessary to leave his house.

"I'll get straight to the point, Severus," Dumbledore began, folding his hands in his lap the same way he would if there had been a desk in front of him. "I doubt I know any more than you do concerning the Dark Mark that was conjured two days ago, but I have been speaking with several Ministry members—Fudge, Shacklebolt, Diggory, Crouch, even Mr. Weasley—and they told me all that they could." Breifly, the man's expression of calm faltered, and he looked down at his thumbs as though considering something. But, likely deciding against whatever he had considered, he continued.

"This scene has baffled everyone, up to those in the highest ranks in the Ministry. I realized what you and Miss D'Monicas must have as well: Voldemort will, indeed, be making his return soon. There is no point in denying it. And as I'm sure you'll have been stressing over, this puts Harry Potter in a considerable amount of danger. And so, I decided yesterday that it was necessary to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher immediately—and someone that I'm absolutely _sure_ I can trust."

Severus mentally hit himself for the split-second that he couldn't help but hope Dumbledore was about to tell him that he had changed his mind about giving him the position. The Headmaster went on, a tad more soberly than he'd been speaking, "I've convinced Alastor Moody to come out of retirement and fill the Defense position. He knows what's going on, and he's extremely keen to be in the action once again—if there _is_ any action during the school year."

Dumbledore paused, seemingly to gauge the reaction of the pajama-clad man across from him.

The shock hadn't been enough to stop his heartbeat or even make his muscles seize up, but it had slowed down Severus's physical reflexes. He felt like the air was as thick as syrup, and like his face was permanently stuck in between a frown and a scowl.

"Moody…," breathed Severus, his voice teetering on the edge of being an angry one. "You hired Moody?"

Though Severus couldn't say that he _hated _Moody (well, at least not as much as he hated Lupin), he was still extremely apprehensive about having him as a colleague. Back in his Death Eater days, the Auror had always suspected him. And he wasn't called "Mad-Eye" for nothing; he was clinically paranoid, bordering on psychopath. That man didn't trust anyone, and he surely wasn't going to trust a person he was sure to be an ex-Death Eater.

"Out of all the people I could have chosen, he is by far the best man for the job," replied Dumbledore. "He may be considered insane, Severus, but that is possibly the best we can hope for in a time like this…. It means he will be reading the signs, and he won't let anything cross his path before making sure it's safe. He won't let Harry out of his sight when he can help it, I am sure of it."

"Isn't—" Severus clenched his jaw slightly, and gripped the arm of his chair. "Isn't protecting Potter the reason that _I'm_ at Hogwarts? You've hardly delegated this job to anyone but me—why start now?"

"Actually, Severus, I have done this in the past. Sometimes more obviously, and other times inconspicuously. But I see no reason why you should complain…. Added help, especially in the form of the most renowned Auror there is, would generally be appreciated."

He supposed the old man was right—no, he _knew_ Dumbledore was right, and he truly was grateful. Severus was admittedly nervous about having to work with Moody, but considering how stressful this year would be, even without all of this, he was glad that he wouldn't be the only person making sure that Potter wasn't killed in the corridors. Besides, he couldn't deny that Moody had great skill in detection, and at the very least the students would have a competent Defense professor this year.

So he nodded.

"Essentially," said Dumbledore, "Alastor will be there to keep an eye on things while no one else is able to. I'm also having him keep a close eye—not that he actually needs to be close—on Karkaroff. I do not believe Karkaroff is loyal to Voldemort anymore, but I cannot trust him completely, either."

A few seconds of silence passed between them, and then Severus exhaled audibly, leaning further into his chair. "Well then. I haven't anything of importance to tell you, Albus, so is there anything else? Any other news, orders, details about Potter's safety, or lectures about Vesperra?"

Not so surprisingly, Dumbledore smiled warmly and stood up. "Nothing comes to mind," he chuckled. "Why, as far as I know, you've done nothing wrong with Miss D'Monicas to deserve a lecture. I'm not nearly as omniscient during the summer, Severus."

At that, the Headmaster threw a handful of glittering powder into Severus's fireplace and disappeared with a shout of his destination.

* * *

**I hope you guys appreciated the Muggle television bit... I really enjoyed including Sherlock (even if it's the old televsion series), Doctor Who, and Robin Hood in there. I also really wanted to put "And that Sheriff of Nottingham looked quite a bit like Severus," but that wouldn't really have fit with canon. As perfect as I think Alan Rickman was for the role of Snape, he doesn't look very much like what I imagine Snape to be-except for the nose.**

**Also, in case you were wondering what Dumbledore was 'considering,' I think that Dumbledore thought about telling Severus that Harry had been at the Quidditch World Cup, but he decided against it because he didn't want to worry him further.**

**Anyway, _please_ review and tell me what you thought (and remember to check out the Tumblask blog)!**


	49. Book 4: Chapter 3

**Sorry this chapter took a bit longer than usual... I just got distracted. A lot. Mostly with Sherlock-related things. Also, it's a but hard to write when you get absolutely NO new reviews over the course of an entire week. Come on, guys, what happened? **

**But anyway, this chapter is mostly Vesperra, and then most of the stuff near the end is directly from the book. Severus does make a few appearances, though.**

* * *

For the rest of that week, both Vesperra and Severus had been on their guard, however little it helped to do so. All it did was fill them with dread; it was inside them, making them feel very uncomfortable, whatever they did. It didn't feel natural to eat, to try and fall asleep, to simply pace about the house….

Knowing that Mad-Eye Moody would be teaching did ease their qualms a bit, however. Severus had told her that afternoon after Dumbledore had left, but he couldn't yet tell her why he didn't like the Auror, and so Vesperra had no reason to dislike him on principle.

It was also the last week before the both of them would be returning to Hogwarts for another eight and a half months, and yet, they had never been more apprehensive about it. That wasn't to say either of them would rather stay at home—they were simply less eager than any year before. But then again, it more like a lack of eagerness to see what tomorrow brought, because the further time went, the closer they got not only to September first, but also to the day that Voldemort returned. Whenever that would be.

Only two days before the day that the scarlet steam-engine would leave King's Cross Station, Vesperra was awoken by the sound of tapping. In her half-conscious state, she thought for a wild moment that it was her mum or dad knocking at her bedroom door, but then her vision became much clearer and the slight echoing ring inside her ears stopped, allowing her to realize that the tapping she heard was of a higher frequency—something thin and hollow hitting glass.

Rolling over, she stretched, cracking any of the stiff bones in her arms, back, and legs, and forced herself to sit up amidst her heap of blankets. As she did, she ignored the sudden headache from sitting up and crawled over to the window, from which misty light was filtering through, and opened it to let the owl inside.

The horned owl was covered in frost, having likely waited outside the window for hours in the bitter cold and light rain, and tiny water droplets trembled at the tips of its feathers, threatening to fall. When it had the chance to escape the cold, it fluttered inside and ruffled its feathers for a good few seconds in order to shake all the water off of itself and onto Vesperra's bed. It seemed reluctant to go back outside, so it stayed perched on her windowsill after dropping the thick, parchment envelope onto her lap.

But then the bird's sense of smell must have kicked in and alerted it to the scent of a predator in the room, because it turned its head around a hundred-and-eighty degrees to see Artemis flicking her tongue from inside her cage. It then let out a frightened hoot and flew straight out the window.

Vesperra, having realized automatically what this was, let out a sigh of relief; she had worried this would never come. Hogwarts booklists generally came long before the weekend prior to the ride on the school train… but she supposed that Professor McGonagall wouldn't have been able to send them out until she'd gotten everything sorted out, which must have taken a while considering this year's circumstances. She briefly thought of all the Muggleborn first years who would be panicking and making extreme haste to buy their things in Diagon Alley.

There was, as usual, the letter saying that the Hogwarts Express would leave the station at eleven o'clock, which Vesperra set aside without a second glance. She picked up and read the booklist; the only new ones she needed were _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. However, there was a note at the bottom that said fourth years and above would require dress robes.

_Dress robes?_ Vesperra narrowed her eyes at the parchment and wondered why on earth they would need dress robes. She most certainly did not want to wear a dress, no matter what occasion was supposedly happening this year. Deciding to dwell on that later, she set the letter aside and started getting dressed, as she knew today and tomorrow would be her only chances to go to Diagon Alley. And she wanted to go as soon as possible.

There was the problem of her father being home all day, though, and at that thought she stopped in the middle of pulling a shirt over her head, feeling a bit nervous about this now. Vesperra didn't really think her dad would hit her simply for using Floo powder, but he would indefinitely get angry enough to start yelling at her, and then her mum would interfere and get yelled at as well….

She didn't want to start that kind of trouble, even with her now vastly improved life of almost no abuse. But it was completely necessary that she go and get her school things, or else she would be quite unprepared for her classes. It was really only one new book that she needed, she realized, because the required textbook for Defense Against the Dark Arts was the same one that she'd bought for her first year… so that would cut down the time she'd need to purchase everything.

And so, she finished putting on a shirt and pants, both of which were getting rather small on her. They weren't getting too tight, as she wasn't getting much thicker, but were instead not long enough on her arms, waist, and legs. Vesperra had seemed to be going through a growth spurt the past several months, though only in the vertical sense—and in her chest's circumference. It looked like she was closer to inheriting her dad's height instead of her mum's…. _Good, then I won't be so much bloody shorter than Severus._

Slowly and silently, she opened her bedroom door and peered through the crack to see if her father was sitting on the couch. If he had chosen to spend the day with his friends, then Vesperra could easily leave for a few hours to do her school shopping…. But bending to the side at an outrageous angle told her that the Universe wasn't being particularly convenient today.

The back of her father's shaggy head was visible in front of the television, on which he was watching the morning news. _Damn,_ Vesperra cursed to herself. But then, after a few moments of frowning at the back of the couch and her father's head, in which her neck and side hurt increasingly worse from the angle at which she was bent, she figured that she could always wait until later, when her father was more likely to go out for a drink.

Still, Vesperra was getting rather hungry, so she pulled herself back up into a normal position and, after briefly massaging her neck with one hand, walked out to the kitchen without the trepidation that she used to have in these common situations.

Her dad only jerked his head around for a second before scowling and returning his face to the television. Vesperra heard the small blipping noise of the channel changing and something that sounded like "You say that so often—I wonder what your basis for comparison is" before completely blocking the sound of the television from her focus and instead turning her attention to the cupboards and refrigerator.

She ended up fixing herself a bowl of cereal and retreating to her room, impatient for the suitable drinking hour to arrive.

For the next several hours, Vesperra poked her head out of her room every hour or so to check whether her father was home. It wasn't until around five o'clock (as she had expected) that he seemed to be gone. At that time, she left her journal lying open on her bed and went to find her mother—but luckily, the woman was coming out of her own bedroom just as Vesperra passed it.

"Oh—Mum—is dad gone?" said Vesperra as she twisted around, facing her mother.

Frowning slightly, she said, "Yeah, he's gone out for the evening to hang out with his friends. Why?"

"I need to go to Diagon Alley for my school stuff."

"You haven't done that yet?"

"The list only came this morning!" said Vesperra, brandishing the sheet of parchment.

"Oh, well—fine, then," her mother said, relaxing her shoulders. "I'll—er, get you some money. Hold on."

Vesperra leaned against the wall and waited as her mum returned to her room, feeling just as uncomfortable as her mother must have been. Considering what had happened a year ago because of the pouch of Wizarding coins, it wasn't odd at all that they would stir up uncomfortable memories by repeating the necessary trip to Diagon Alley.

When her mother returned less than a minute later with a drawstring pouch bulging at the sides with Galleons, Vesperra took it, uttered a "Thanks" without thinking, and quickly returned to her room to grab a coat and to tell Severus that she would be in Diagon Alley for a while and for him not to write back. She knew that he would be a little worried about her shopping on her own in the evening while Voldemort was making a steady return and whoever had conjured the Dark Mark was still out there, but there wasn't any other way she could get her school things. There wasn't even much of a chance that she would be able to go tomorrow, because her father wasn't likely to go out and get drunk off his arse on a Sunday.

Once Vesperra had shut the clasp on her journal and slid it inside her coat along with the money pouch (which she noticed was considerably lighter than she remembered—likely because her mum's new job wasn't exactly well-paying), then made sure her wand was inside its holster in her sleeve, she headed back out to the sitting room.

With a collision of glittering powder and calm fire and a shout of "Diagon Alley!", Vesperra was no longer inside her house, but instead being coughed out of an ashy grate in a dim yet crowded alley. She brushed the ash off her front, situating where she was—which was to the left of Madam Malkin's. It wasn't _that_ late in the day, but the clouds turned the sky grayish white and didn't allow very much sunlight to filter through them.

Diagon Alley was a bit less crowded than it had been the last three times she'd visited, but full of people nevertheless. Even though it wasn't as if the shops moved or all changed their style around in the evening, Vesperra couldn't help but feel a much different air about the place. It wasn't only that she was starting her school shopping after five, she was sure; it was because of the Dark Mark having been conjured less than a week earlier. She didn't even think anyone else could feel it, but _she_ could: Things weren't yet dangerous, but this would likely be the last semi-normal trip to Diagon Alley. Or at least the last safe one.

It almost annoyed Vesperra that no one else seemed to realize this, but she would have been rather surprised if many others were picking up on the sense of danger without knowing what she, Severus, and Dumbledore did. Pushing aside her niggling qualms, she stared up at Madam Malkin's shop for a few seconds before deciding to go inside.

She had been in the robe shop the year before, but had also grown more than expected since then. Sure that her current school robes would be at least three inches above her ankles now, though reluctant to make human contact as usual, Vesperra made her way through the hanging sets of robes and found Madam Malkin attending to another person.

"I'll be with you in a moment, dearie, I just have to finish pinning up Michael here," the woman said cheerfully, stepping to the left to reveal a boy with freckles and black, curly hair whom Vesperra recognized as a Ravenclaw boy she'd never spoken to before. He glanced at her and, apparently recognizing her as well, frowned slightly and looked immediately away.

While waiting, Vesperra folded her arms and found a spot against the wall to lean on and donned her signature frown. It wasn't so much that she was impatient as it was that she always felt awkward when standing around and waiting to be assisted. Then again, she supposed that she ought to consider herself lucky that it wasn't Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins who was getting fitted when she came in, and also that she didn't have to wait in a long line of people. Most of the other Hogwarts students, she figured, had done their shopping much earlier.

When Michael had gotten his school robes, Vesperra took off her coat and let it fall to the floor where she was standing before stepping up to get fitted. She tried not to fidget as Madam Malkin measured every length and width and circumference on her body, but she had just never gotten used to that sort of thing. She absolutely disliked having anyone else's hands so near her—except for Severus's, of course.

Fifteen minutes later, she left the shop with her mum's money pouch very noticeably lighter, and she knew that there would definitely be no random spending today. Vesperra had even decided not to get dress robes at Madam Malkin's, mainly because they were more expensive than normal robes and she was sure her mother would be angry at her for spending that much.

It was already darker, and she quickened her pace as she noticed this. Traveling at a swift fast-walk, she went to Flourish and Blotts for her one book, Scribbulus's for a restocking of parchment and quills, and Slug & Jiggers for restocking her Potions kit. And though it wasn't necessary, as Artemis was completely healthy and had plenty of room in Vesperra's backyard for hunting mice and whatnot, she decided to have a look inside Magical Menagerie.

Every inch of the walls was covered in cages, reminding Vesperra of the first use she'd ever had for the Room of Requirement and making her slightly nervous to be around so many animals. She had a feeling that most animals would tend to hate her on principle. A few of the cats (some of which had fur that was a rather unnatural color, or ears and tails and whiskers that were far larger than normal) hissed as she walked by, as did some very sleek black rats and some things that simply looked like colorful balls of fluff, proving her right.

There was a glass cage the size of a small bed (though a little taller) in one corner of the crowded shop, in which was a cluster of snakes that Vesperra would have called beautiful if she didn't object to using such adjectives out loud. She felt a pang of resentment that she was momentarily confused about, but when she realized what it had been for, she wished bitterly that Severus had come here to buy her a pet instead of Knockturn Alley. Sure, he wasn't angry about Damien anymore, and they had even put that entire fight behind them, but she'd have liked to never have gone through those few minutes of horrible fear at all.

And then, figuring that she ought to leave before she starting talking to the snakes in front of all the other people in there, who were buying supplies for their pets, Vesperra left and immediately turned to walk in the direction of the Gringotts end of Diagon Alley. There was still one more place she needed to visit….

She soon came upon the opening in between shops that led to an entirely new alley, and the dingy sign that labeled the place—though it probably wasn't intentional— exemplified the forebodingness of the place for smaller children that might not know better. Vesperra knew that Knockturn Alley might not have been the safest place to be at the moment, considering that it was past six in the evening—if it wasn't enough that ex-Death Eaters were steadily gaining more power. This was the time that the more illegal trading would go on, and plenty of the regulars in these Dark Arts shops would be delighted to find a young girl all on her own.

But these thoughts only vaguely registered as warnings, and Vesperra strode into the dark alley with nearly as much confidence as she normally would have, because she had important business here. If things got out of hand, she knew a fair amount of curses to fight off anyone trying to poison or rape her—or both. Besides, she wasn't quite as small as she used to be, and both her facial structure and the way she held herself only gave her even more of the look that showed she was supposed to be there. She knew what she was doing.

There were much fewer people outside of the shops this late, which gave out somewhat of an eerie sense, but Vesperra wasn't any more paranoid than she normally was. Every ten seconds or so, she threw a quick glance around, including behind her, just to make sure. The few people whom she did pass only stared at her for a few seconds before resuming their own business (which was often merely standing there), and she started to wonder whether people were mistaking her for her mother.

Finally reaching the shop she'd been heading for, she pushed open the door without even taking a preliminary glance inside to see whether Damien was even in the immediate area. As she did, she tried not to do so too quickly, so as to not attract too much attention from whomever might have been in there.

Dim and dusty (and yet attractive to Vesperra's senses) as ever, the shop didn't seem to have changed much. A gruff man, whom she recognized to be Damien's father, was behind the counter, speaking with a tall man. The customer glanced back at her for a fraction of a second, and she caught sight of a rather pug-like nose and judgmental eyes before he immediately turned his head back around.

Mr. Gerard recognized her almost immediately and scowled, seemingly about to abruptly stop his conversation with whom Vesperra thought might have been Pansy Parkinson's father and ask her, rudely, what she wanted. However, his son, who had been cleaning a cage in the other corner of the room, had stepped forward, smiling, and spoken to her before he could.

"Vesperra—this is unexpected!" said Damien, keeping his voice to a low whisper so as to not interrupt his father. He stuffed the rag he had been using to wipe dust and grime off a cage of enormous, scuttling centipedes into his pocket, and then rubbed his hands on his robes.

His smile evaporated quickly and was replaced with a somewhat thoughtful look for a moment. Before Vesperra had the chance to say anything at all, Damien had put his hand on her shoulder and started tugging her forward.

"Come on—I assume you want to talk," he said, "and I don't think my father'll appreciate us staying in here."

Vesperra let her face betray none of what she was planning to say to him, and nodded with a half-smile as she followed him. His father looked still more annoyed, and the both of them avoided looking at him or the other man. Damien led her into a back room, which was filled with all sorts of boxes and jars, the inside of which Vesperra guessed was food for the various creatures Damien and his father sold.

Pulling out his wand and flicking it at the lamps on the walls, he made it considerably brighter and easier to see. While he pulled up chairs, Vesperra took a slightly more analytical look around and caught sight of a box in the corner that was rather larger than most of the others. Except—it wasn't a box; it seemed to have a large, black cloth draped over it. After only a second or so, the cloth undulated and flew outward at the hems as though something was shaking it from the inside, and something black, like soot, puffed out from under the edges.

"Damien…. What's that?" said Vesperra warily, temporarily forgetting her purpose here and pointing to the draped cage. Or at least, she assumed it was a cage.

"Ah, well—it's er…" Damien scratched his stubble and let out a shaky laugh, staring at the still rippling cloth. "I'll just show you."

He strode over to that corner of the room, and Vesperra kept herself at a distance, only taking one or two tentative steps forward. As he reached it, he bent down carefully, holding his wand at the ready, and then pulled off the cloth to reveal a dark green, reptilian body no larger than an average-sized dog. The creature unfurled its scaly wings and opened its mouth widely in a sort of yawn, showing rows of very sharp teeth.

Around it were animal skulls and bones the size of twigs, as well as what looked like broken bits of an eggshell. Damien stepped back, half-smiling and half-grimacing at the cage.

Her mouth hanging slightly open, all Vesperra could say was, "That's… you have—"

"A dragon, yes." There was only a hint of nervousness in his voice, but otherwise he sounded respectful and almost admiring of the creature. "It's only a Welsh Green—they aren't as dangerous as a lot of the others. But of course, my father hasn't harbored a dragon in here in several years…. He's having a bit of trouble negotiating with someone to take it off his hands. It'll only be a few weeks or so before this thing's too big to keep in here, and then we'd have no choice but to release it into the wild. And no one wants that."

The baby dragon then shot a stream of narrow fire from its nostrils through the metal bars and towards Damien, and he jumped out of the way just in time—though with his robes smoking a little. At once, he threw the cloth (which must have been magically rendered fire-resistant) back over the cage and rubbed his side. Walking back to Vesperra, he sat down on one of the chairs he had pulled up and gestured for her to sit down as well, as though nothing odd had passed between them at all.

Hesitantly, she took a seat, and coughed. "Well, if you don't end up finding someone who wants it, you could always just kill it instead. They're a lot less potent if it's not a full-grown dragon, but pretty much everything about them is powerful and extremely useful in potions…. Oh—and please, if a man called Hagrid shows up here, do _not_ let him buy it," she added, remembering the man's fondness for dangerous creatures and his skewed definition of "dangerous."

"Isn't he the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts?" asked Damien, leaning forward inquisitively in his chair.

"_And_ the Care of Magical Creatures teacher now, so I'd prefer he doesn't bring _that_ thing in for lessons…."

"Oh. Right, then, I'll warn my father about that…. Now, what was it that you came here for? You must have had a reason other than just visiting."

Vesperra shifted in her chair, resisting the urge to scowl and deciding how best to word this. She _did_ want to get it over with quickly so that it wasn't terribly late when she got home, so she tried not to hesitate.

"Well, I heard that you saw Professor Snape several weeks ago," said Vesperra bluntly, unconsciously folding her hands in her lap and putting one leg over the other.

The man across from her held a blank expression for a moment before he gave a tiny, yet sharp inhale in realization and frowned. "I did…. But who told you?"

"He did."

Silence. Damien's look of shock as his head pulled back though his shoulders didn't, his brow furrowing in confusion, was almost amusing. Finally, he said, "_He_ did? '_He,_' as in Professor Snape?—I don't—"

"_Severus_ is the friend that I told you about," Vesperra sighed, an angry edge to her voice now. "And you know, he was extremely angry at me for never mentioning you, and _none_ of it would have happened if you hadn't just decided to mention me!"

She realized that she was missing a few key points in her rushed accusation and that Damien was now even more confused (judging especially by the look on his face), but she really didn't care.

"So—you and him—_what?_" he stammered, apparently pained from all the confusion. "You're _friends_ with Professor Snape? And… and I—"

"Nearly ruined it, exactly." Vesperra's blood temperature had taken a considerable rise, but she was working on controlling her sudden anger. Although, she couldn't help but stand up from her chair and start pacing, as was her habit in this sort of situation. Honestly, she resented telling him this, the one thing that she'd have preferred to be a _complete _secret, but even Severus had agreed it would be unfair for her own cousin to not know, as long as she was absolutely sure he wouldn't tell anyone.

"Listen," she continued, "I'm not going to give you details, but yes, Severus and I _are_ friends, and we have been long before I even met you. I never told either of you about each other, and so Severus and I had a huge row after he gave me the snake—_yes_, the snake was for me."

Closing his mouth, now with apparently many things on his mind to say but not a single idea of how to word them, Damien looked down at his lap for several seconds in deep thought. "But… why did you not tell either of us, then? I wouldn't have been angry—"

"Severus would have," interrupted Vesperra. "He's—well, rather protective, and he wouldn't have wanted me in Knockturn Alley—not as a twelve year-old, at least…. And I didn't think it would have been fair to tell you about him if I didn't tell him about you. It would have been extremely stupid, anyway, considering how little a group of people have any idea Severus and I are friends. We'd like to keep it that way."

"Because he's a teacher and you're a student?"

"Exactly."

"But…" Damien straightened himself in his chair, moving slowly and opening his mouth and closing it several times before actually continuing to speak. "I—how can you be friends with a teacher? I mean, _I'm_ older than you, but only by about seven years, and I'm your cousin—but Professor Snape's got to be in his forties—"

"He's only thirty-four," huffed Vesperra, frowning. As lined as Severus's face was from stress, making him seem much older than he was sometimes, it still annoyed her whenever someone mistook him for being old. "And like I said, I'm not going into details. It's a long story, and I don't feel like telling it—it's really the one thing I want to keep just between myself and Severus. We never intended for this many people to know anything about it…."

"How many people know, then?" asked Damien.

"Er—" Vesperra took a moment to count mentally. "Counting you, five. Including my parents. And there's a few other people that suspect it, who are pretty much all the other Slytherins, but can't know for sure because they don't have any proof."

"Hm. Well, er… is Professor Snape still angry at you, then?" said Damien, looking like he felt rather awkward.

"Not anymore, luckily…. He still has no idea about the poison thing, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." She sighed, feeling a pang of self-loathing for keeping this from her best (and almost only) friend. "I don't see how he could ever possibly find out, though, since only you and I know about it, and I _know_ you aren't going to tell anyone."

"I won't; I'm not stupid, you know. And—I'm sorry for making you have a row with him. There was no way I could have known…."

"It's fine…. And—speaking of the poison," she continued in a low voice, just in case Damien's father could hear through the door, "how's reuniting your parents going?"

"Well, I've so far gotten my father to try and contact my mother, but she hasn't replied to the owl he sent her yet. I didn't expect this to be easy, though."

"Owl me when it does happen—I'll want to know. But anyway… I should really get home," she said, rising from her chair.

"Yeah, it's getting late," Damien agreed, rising as well. "Well, I'll just see you out, then…."

Giving a small nod, Vesperra went ahead and opened the door back to the main part of the shop, where Mr. Gerard was leaning on the counter at the front. The other man was gone, and Damien's father was looking grumpier than he had been earlier.

"You still have your cleaning to finish, you know," the man growled, scowling at them.

"Yes, I _know_, Father—I'll do it right after Vesperra leaves," said Damien dismissively. "Any luck with Parkinson?"

His father let out a huff. "Not particularly. He said that he still has to think about it, and that nearly always means they're not going to agree."

"The impulse decisions are generally the most common ones to play out in this sort of trade," Damien explained to Vesperra, looking down at her. "Anyway, I'll see you—well, not later, but sometime in the future—hopefully before next summer."

"Right. You too," said Vesperra. She avoided Mr. Gerard's eyes as she strode to the door, and then stopped briefly in the threshold and muttered, "Good luck with your dragon."

A minute later, she had Flooed back into her fireplace at home with her bag of new school things. It wasn't extremely dark outside, but dark enough that she had been able to tell it was particularly unsafe to be in Knockturn Alley even long enough to find a grate. Her mother was in the kitchen when she arrived, and her father was clearly still at the pub (and would still be for another few hours or so).

If Vesperra were a normal child raised by a normal family, she probably would have taken off her coat and thrown it on the couch, then gone up to her mum and asked her if she had made dinner. But she wasn't, so neither she nor her mum said a word to each other as she pulled the somewhat depleted money pouch out of her pocket and dropped it onto the counter, continuing to walk to her room.

However, she remembered something when she was merely halfway down the hallway, and immediately backtracked—quite literally walked backwards—into the kitchen.

"Oh—Mum, I apparently need dress robes for this year, but I didn't get any in Diagon Alley because I didn't want to waste any of your money." Vesperra said this with evident bitterness, and her mother seemed to cringe very slightly. "So, do you, er—"

"Hold on," the woman said shortly, closing the cupboard that she had been looking inside and heading straight for her room.

She returned about eight minutes later with a mass of black cloth in her hands, and stuffed it into Vesperra's at once. "Here, now you have dress robes."

Slightly surprised, she looked down into the mass now in her hands, not having expected her mother to have ever owned dress robes. But she shrugged it off within seconds, and left to her room so she could hurry and put away her school stuff before removing her journal from her coat and resuming her conversation with Severus.

* * *

_**I'm back.**_

_Good. I was starting to get a little worried._

Severus had been waiting in his sitting room for the past couple hours, reading in his armchair, and he hadn't been able to help worrying for Vesperra's safety.

_**You really shouldn't have. No one's going to attack me in the middle of Diagon Alley, you know.**_

_You never know. _

Why was it that they were always paranoid for their safety when together, but when apart, the both of them insisted that the other stop worrying?

_**Well, no one tried to kill me, so it's fine now. But I wanted to ask you—what do I need dress robes for? It was on the supplies list.**_

Severus paused for a few seconds, his quill hovering over the page in his hand. He considered telling her the truth, but decided not to, despite the fact that he doubted she would want to make use of the dress robes anyway.

_You'll find out later in the year._

_**But why can't you tell me now? Obviously you know, since you're a teacher.**_

_I'd just prefer that it stays a surprise, just like it's going to be for the rest of the students._

_**You've always told me everything, even when other students weren't supposed to know. Why stop now?**_

_Merlin, you're impatient sometimes. You may be a lot more mature than other fourteen year-olds, but you should still be able to enjoy a surprise._

_**It's just as frustrating for me as it would have been for anyone else…. Please, just tell me?**_

_No. You'll know what's going on in a couple days, anyway. Just wait._

_**Fine. But I'm still frustrated.**_

_It's too bad I can't see your face through the journals, because you get rather amusing when you're frustrated._

* * *

It was much too difficult to believe that she really _was_ standing on solid ground, surrounded by other people in her own age range, rather than simply in a dream or fantasy. But Vesperra didn't dream at all, and she certainly never fantasized about this—well, not _this_ specifically. She'd often thought about going back to Hogwarts over the course of the summer, but it definitely wasn't the journey on the Hogwarts Express or the brief time she would actually spend _on_ Platform 9 ¾ that she had been looking forward to.

Her mother had—reluctantly, most likely—taken the morning off work to take Vesperra directly to the platform by side-along Apparition. She found that the sensation of her entire body being compressed into a straw-thin tube had become more tolerable over the years; possibly her body was getting more suitable to it. Generally, children younger than fourteen or fifteen would have been considered too small to safely endure Apparition.

She didn't know whether or not her mum had stayed for a minute or left immediately, because she didn't look back this time. As early as she was, she wanted to get on the train and find a compartment as soon as possible, so she only looked straight ahead as she crossed the platform in quick strides.

In retrospect, the summer seemed like it had passed by very quickly. Vesperra couldn't quite grasp the fact that she was _already_ stepping up onto the scarlet steam engine, already hoisting her luggage up with her—and already strong enough to not be struggling with it, already dragging her trunk down the aisle, checking the compartments to see if there were already people in them….

Already, she was set and ready for her fourth year at Hogwarts. She was nearly halfway done with Wizarding education, and it quite literally felt, at that moment, like she had only ambled awkwardly onto the school train for the first time yesterday. It was all just a bit overwhelming for a minute.

When Vesperra found a compartment that had no people or luggage in it, she suddenly felt more resigned to the fact of what was happening, and that she wasn't simply in an extremely detailed daydream. It was much of an ambivalent sort of resignation, though, because she both dreaded and was impatient for the start of the school year. The former was mostly because of a certain Draco Malfoy, who she was sure would show up sometime later during the journey to Hogwarts.

She set her school trunk in the corner of the compartment, and Artemis's cage on top of that. The boa was looking a little annoyed from having her cage shaken as it had been carried, but she also seemed to be about to go to sleep. Vesperra had realized over the summer that she could read snakes' feelings without actually talking to them.

And though the Hogwarts rules, according to her first year welcome letter, stated that students were only allowed a cat, toad, or owl, she knew that the rules could be bent a bit. After all, Weasley had had a pet rat (which had turned out not to be a rat), and she knew a couple students to have pet tarantulas. It must have been the fact that the three permitted pets were all generally mobile, and the staff didn't want anything huge and dangerous running around. So as long as Artemis didn't cause any trouble and always stayed in Vesperra's room, she was sure no one would care. No one that mattered, anyway.

She also had a feeling that Severus had arranged it with Dumbledore so that she could have special circumstances, or was at least going to. Dumbledore wasn't generally the sort of Headmaster to even abide by all of his own rules anyway, or care when they're constantly broken (cough-_Potter_-cough)….

Leaning forward in her seat, which was in the left corner of the compartment, Vesperra looked out the window. The steam issuing from the train was making the platform more and more obscure, and most of the people gamboling around were nothing but dark shapes. She thought it was quite stupid that anyone would be wasting time out there with their families when it was raining so hard; why not just try to get dry immediately? Vesperra herself was already soaked in her coat, the excess water being soaked into the upholstery of her seat by osmosis.

There would be at least another half of an hour before the train left the station, so, hoping that no one she hated decided to sit in the compartment with her, she carefully moved Artemis's cage off of her trunk and took out her new Charms book, which she'd hardly had a chance to read the day before.

For the first time, she would be rather behind (by her own standards) in learning a lot of the charms for that year beforehand, so she planned on trying to learn at least one thing before the inevitable event that someone started sharing the compartment with her. Of course, if it was only one other person, like Luna Lovegood or Theodore Nott or just a first year that she'd never seen before in her life, she wouldn't mind so much. But otherwise, she would feel too awkward to practice spells in front of them.

The next thirty minutes were comprised of Vesperra attempting to make her ring (the only small item on hand—literally—at the moment) larger with an Engorgement Charm, and then smaller once she'd gotten that down. However, it was only shortly after she started practicing the Shrinking Charm that she was distracted by the sound of the compartment door sliding open, and she looked up to see Theodore Nott.

For a second neither of them said anything, but then Nott said, somewhat awkwardly, "Hi—er, d'you mind if I sit in here?"

Vesperra raised an eyebrow, but then casually lowered her face back down to _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_. "Not as long as you don't bother me…. Are all the other compartments really already full?"

"What?—No, it's not—I didn't feel like walking around until I found an empty one," said Nott quickly, moving from his spot at the threshold tentatively as though unsure as to whether or not he was _really_ welcome in there.

"Hm." Vesperra had assumed that Nott—or anyone else, for that matter, would only choose her compartment as a last resort. Nott may have been a great deal more decent to her than anyone else in Hogwarts (not including Severus), but he had never gone out of his way to talk to or be near. It had always been merely conversations after Ancient Runes class… and one other time, when he had rescued her from Thomas and Finnigan cruel and unusual bullying.

She was only vaguely aware of Nott stowing his luggage in the rack above the seats and then sitting across from her, as she was focusing more on the Shrinking Charm. Soon after, the train whistle finally sounded, and they both looked out the window to see the last of the stragglers boarding through the thick splattering of rain. The noise level in the aisle outside the compartments was suddenly considerably larger, and the scent of rain increased as well.

The smell she didn't mind at all, for she was used to the same smell constantly in the air in Stoneyard, but she didn't feel like putting up with the noise, so she didn't hesitate to walk over to the door and slide it shut at once. As Vesperra made to sit back down, she was thrown off balance by the sudden movement of the train and the vibration of the floor under her feet, but it luckily propelled her directly into her seat.

For the next ten minutes, it was silent inside the compartment but for the muffled voices from beyond the door and the sound of rain hitting the window like tiny bullets. Nott seemed to be eyeing Artemis's cage slightly apprehensively, but didn't say anything—so Vesperra didn't say anything either. Muttered incantations of "_Reducio_" broke the silence every minute or so, and she was so far thanking Merlin for the fact that it was just her and Nott.

But as all good things must come to an end—or at least to an occasional standstill, the compartment door was once again opened, and Vesperra didn't have to look up to know who it was. _Bloody hell, only ten effing minutes in?_

"Fancy seeing you here, Grease-perra."

That drawling voice had gotten deeper over the summer, but it was as cold and cruel as ever. There would always be something about it that made it obvious Draco Malfoy was speaking.

Reluctantly, she looked up to see a boy with white-blonde hair, a pointed chin, and an extremely smug look on his face. He had certainly grown since she last saw him, though he couldn't have been much taller than Vesperra, and he definitely hadn't grown as much as the thuggish boys standing on either side of him as much as ever like bodyguards. With the stance that each of them was in, all of their arms folded over their chests, it was admittedly quite impressive.

"I didn't see you at the Quidditch World Cup," said Malfoy when Vesperra only scowled in response. "Although I wouldn't have expected to, seeing as you're about the same level as Weasley as far as money goes. Honestly, though, I wish you could have been there, especially after the actual match, during the riots—there would have been a good chance of you getting trampled, or lost—or killed, even," he added with a grin, which was by no means returned by Vesperra.

"So, Malfoy, are you just spending your time on the train opening every compartment door and harassing the people in it?" she growled, unwittingly baring her teeth a bit.

"I—Oh God… what the hell's that?"

His eyes had roved from Vesperra to what was sitting on top of her school trunk, and his face had immediately gone a paler shade. Malfoy's expression now one of poorly controlled fear, he pointed to the cage. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who both had muscles the size of large hams and jaws so thick that they could have bitten _her_ arm in half if they wanted to, were now staring nervously at the same spot that their ringleader was.

Vesperra's curled lip twitched into an unpleasant smirk, and she purposely put on a wickedly casual demeanor. "That's Artemis. She's a Brazilian Boa Constrictor, and she could easily crush your lungs if I told her to—or anyone's, really."

Malfoy's Adam's apple visibly rose and fell in an obvious gulp, and Vesperra's smirk widened. He was clearly trying not to let his face betray his fear—but he was failing massively. Backing up a bit, he righted his stance and turned to the other side of the compartment.

"What are you doing in here, Nott?" he said, his voice starting to return to its usual bored drawl. He frowned, seeming to have only just noticed him. "You can sit with us and most of the other Slytherins—"

"No thanks, I'd—er, rather stay in here… where it's quiet," said Nott, shifting uncomfortably. If Vesperra hadn't known better, she'd have said that he was nervous.

"Quiet. Right. I suppose you're always bound to get nothing but quiet when Grease-perra's around…." Malfoy turned back to her and, first looking as though there was something on his mind that he really wanted to say, glanced once more at Artemis's cage and stepped out of the compartment, beckoning his friends to leave with him. Crabbe and Goyle, who had done nothing but stand there and flex the entire time, hobbled stupidly after him without closing the door behind them.

Again, Vesperra had to stand up and shut—well, this time, _slam_—the door, and this time she sat down angrily.

"Please tell me you're going to set that snake on him the moment we get to Hogwarts," said Nott, frowning at the door.

Picking up her Charms textbook and laying it on her lap, Vesperra couldn't help but smirk again. Without looking at him, she said, "It would be a lot smarter to do so after everyone's gone to bed, because then she can just constrict him in his sleep."

For a couple hours, Vesperra and Nott simply sat and were mostly silent but for spell-practicing and the occasional short conversation, which was always started by Nott and finished abruptly by Vesperra. A number of people passed their compartment, but no one else entered until the witch pushing the food trolley came around.

Starving, Vesperra ended up buying two each of Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes (her mother had agreed to give her some money for Hogsmeade and whatnot), and Nott bought a bit of candy as well. That surprised her a little, since he didn't seem like the sort of person to like candy. But then again, she didn't think anyone would expect to see someone like _her _stuffing her face with chocolate, either.

Nott actually offered her some of his Jelly Slugs, but she declined; she could take food from Severus, but not anyone else.

Around midday, it was already dark enough outside the window for it to be much later, and the rain was coming down harder than ever. Unexpectedly, the compartment door opened for a fourth time that day while both Vesperra and Nott were reading.

"Damn, Theo, I haven't seen you all day," said Blaise Zabini, who had appeared in the doorway. He was a tall, black boy with high cheekbones who was generally reserved and solitary but for Nott.

Theodore was Blaise's only real friend; it was obvious that he considered pretty much everyone else, including Malfoy on occasion, below him. He hardly spoke to anyone unless he was chiming in during Vesperra-bullying time at Hogwarts meals, and Nott was the one person he didn't seem to dislike. In fact, he was, in many ways, very much like Vesperra in his being introverted and disdain towards most others—and in having only one real exception to that…. But either he didn't notice it, or he was too focused on the fact that she was Half-Blood, not _Pureblood_, to care.

"Malfoy said you were with—her," continued Zabini, casting a quick, dark look in Vesperra's direction. She narrowed her eyes but tried to pay him no attention, and wondered for a moment why he hadn't called her by that nickname.

"Turns out he was right, then," said Nott.

Zabini glanced at her again, then sighed and shut the compartment door behind him as he took a seat next to his friend. Vesperra shifted her gaze up to Blaise for a brief look to say mentally, _"I_ _don't want you here, and I think you should leave."_ He seemed to understand this, judging by his almost identical expression, but remained where he was.

Next to him, Nott gave her sort of a sorry look and shrugged his shoulders. It confused Vesperra even more, for she was now wondering why Nott didn't just go off with his friend, or why Zabini didn't insist that he come with him. The only explanation could have been that Theodore actually preferred _her_, and wanted to sit with her above all others. And that definitely couldn't have been it.

Occasionally during the rest of the journey, the two boys sitting across and Vesperra talked, but only in very hushed tones, and it always ended shortly. It was likely because of her having told Nott not to bother her… but Blaise didn't usually talk much, so it could have just as easily been that he didn't have much to say to him. However, he continued to appear quite resentful that he had to share a compartment with Vesperra.

Finally, they were getting close to Hogwarts (which they only knew from Nott's watch, since it was impossible to see anything, even a gigantic castle, outside of the window at this point), so Blaise left to get back to the cabin where his things were, and Vesperra and Nott pulled on their school robes over their clothes. When the train slowed to a stop, they left their trunks (including Artemis, because she didn't like having her cage being picked up) and stepped off onto the pitch-black Hogsmeade station with everyone else.

Thunder rumbled overhead as soon as the doors opened, and people were getting quickly soaked from the pouring rain. Vesperra went ahead, straining to see through the darkness, in order to get to one of the horseless carriages that were waiting for them just outside the station. She tried to move as quickly as she could while the rest of the crowd was merely inching across the platform, moving around as many people as it took. The chattering and shuffling of students was hardly heard through the sound of the rain and thunder, but she could hear a somewhat muffled yell of "Firs' years over here!"

Nott had apparently been following her, for when she finally made it to one of the carriages and began to climb inside, he climbed after her immediately. When they sat down, grateful for the lack of rain coming down on them, they were both catching their breath. The door snapped shut, and a few minutes later, after all of the students had boarded a carriage, there was a lurch and they, along with the rest of the school, were swaying with the motion of the carriage up the path to Hogwarts.

"Are you _sure_ you still don't see them?" said Nott, a minute or so in. He was leaning against the window, his cheek squished against the glass, and watching beyond the rain. "I know I can't possibly be seeing things—I've seen them pulling the carriages for three years straight, at the beginning and end of the year…."

Vesperra knew what it was like to see or hear things that no one else did, but there had been a perfectly sound explanation for that. She frowned at Nott, whose usually light-brown hair was now almost black and flattened down from being so soaked, and felt a tiny squirm of disbelief inside her. She _did_ believe him, but it was just so improbable.

"No, I didn't see anything," sighed Vesperra. "I believe you, though."

That didn't seem to be enough for him. "I swear, they're—they're like demonic horses or something. As far as I know, there's nothing special about me, so I don't understand why it's only me that's seeing them."

"How many other people have you asked?"

"Er, well… just you," said Nott sheepishly, looking away from the window. "Anyone else would have thought I was crazy."

"To be honest, I thought you were a bit crazy when you first told me about that."

"So did I."

Eventually, the seemingly horseless stagecoaches brought them through the wrought-iron gates, and small lights that were the upper windows of the turrets in the Hogwarts castle shimmered as they grew closer. They soon stopped, the carriage lurching again; Vesperra was the first one out, once again, into the rain, Nott having waited for her and gone after.

Though she wanted to run up the stone steps directly into the castle, Vesperra _did _have dignity and merely walked at a quick pace. A wave of other students rushed in after them as they entered the cavernous, torch-lit Entrance Hall, pushing them closer towards the doors to the Great Hall.

Then, behind her, there was a splashing noise and a yell; she and many others turned around to see what was going on. Twenty feet above the ground was Peeves the Poltergeist, floating around and looking up to no good at all with the armful of red, water-filled balloons he had under his arm. Just as he cackled and threw a second balloon directly at Potter's group of friends, who were just arriving, Vesperra fully understood what was going on and practically dashed for the Great Hall.

Once again in more of a quickened pace than any kind of run, she and Nott went through the double-doors, escaping to safety. Others were screaming and pushing each other out of the way, and so Vesperra considered herself lucky that she was in the front.

She heard a shrill and angry "PEEVES!" that sounded like McGonagall before making it into the Great Hall and finding a seat at the Slytherin table with Nott, who sat on the other side, a few seats down. Only Blaise was already there, and the rest of the fourth year Slytherins showed up within the next five minutes. All of them looked upon Vesperra for a moment with looks of near wickedness—or excitement?—and smirked, making her dread the return of daily insults for another year.

Avoiding their glares, she held her face in one hand, her elbow supported by the table, and glanced at the Staff Table. Her eyes automatically went to Severus, who looked, if anything, bored. He was sitting between an empty seat that was usually McGonagall's and Professor Sinistra, who was talking to Professor Sprout. As Vesperra had often noticed him doing when he was bored, Severus seemed to be sweeping the hall with his eyes, checking for students breaking rules, or, probably, looking for her….

And his eyes found her in the next two seconds, at which they lingered with what might have been a slight smile (she couldn't tell from this distance); it was subtle enough, though, than no one else would have noticed it unless they were looking for it. Vesperra's expression softened for a split second before she moved her gaze along the table. After it passed a third empty chair (besides Hagrid's and McGonagall's), it occurred to her that something was off, but _what_, exactly, it was didn't register at first.

She wasn't the only one who had noticed it, either: Mad-Eye Moody wasn't there. Vesperra didn't know what he looked like, but there were no new faces at the Staff Table. And the others couldn't have known who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was going to be, so they wouldn't have been wondering about Mad-Eye specifically. But by the sound of their questions, they were still confused.

"You don't think they've been unable to find _anyone_?" said Tracey, who was a few seats behind Vesperra.

"Of course not, Dumbledore would never let Defense go completely untaught," said Daphne, who then gasped, "Maybe he finally let Snape have the job!"

"Where's the new Potions Master, then?" said Malfoy sarcastically. "Even Snape couldn't teach two subjects at once…. Of course, Grease-perra would probably argue with that. He teaches both Potions _and_ love-making, doesn't he?"

Most of them laughed, and Vesperra refrained from looking at Malfoy, blotches of red starting to appear on her cheeks despite her efforts to control the sudden smattering of tingles she felt in her chest and stomach—which were completely apart from the hunger.

"Oh—Merlin, Draco, don't even _say_ that…," said Pansy, sounding both giggly and disgusted. "I mean—Snape, in that way, is just… gross."

Years of hiding her true feelings from nearly everyone made it relatively easy for Vesperra to keep from scowling at Pansy's comment about Severus and all the other ones made afterward—not that she ever thought about him in the way that they were referring to… alright, maybe she did. But only occasionally.

* * *

Severus didn't know whether he should have been worried about Moody's absence, or if he should have expected it. Earlier, Dumbledore had told him about Moody raising a false alarm last night, which he had learned from the Ministry. But having not spend much time around the man unless fighting him off (back in his Death Eater days), he wasn't aware of all the quirks of his personality—only the famous ones. And either way, he was almost glad for being able to put off having to be within a twenty-foot radius of that man.

"What do you suppose is keeping him?" said Severus in an undertone, leaning far back in his chair. He tilted his head to the side to see Dumbledore staring off—quite literally—into space, his hands folded underneath his chin. The Headmaster didn't acknowledge that he'd been spoken to until a good ten seconds after Severus had started staring at him; when he did, he turned his head, still resting his chin on his fingers, and had a quizzical expression.

"I apologize, Severus," said Dumbledore, giving a tiny jolt and righting himself so that he was sitting straighter in his chair. "I admit I was lost in a daydream—but I did hear what you said. And as I assume you mean Alastor, it is difficult to say…. He might have been held up by a random man he suspected to be dangerous and started to follow, or he might have had more things with the Ministry to be going on with."

"And you don't find it curious that he's so late?" said Severus, frowning.

"Oh, I do, Severus; I'm simply listing possible explanations." Dumbledore paused, then turned his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, looking over his half-moon glasses in the direction of the Slytherin table. "Oh dear, Miss D'Monicas seems to be having a rough time already."

Following Dumbledore's eyes, he saw Vesperra, surrounded by her fellow fourth year Slytherins, and clutching at the side of her head with one hand, as though she might pull her hair out. A few of the others were bent over the table, laughing—by the sight of it—too hard for breathing. Anger bubbled up inside him, and he wished, for the first time in several months, that he could go down here and stop all of them himself.

Dumbledore apparently noticed his knuckles going white and jaw stiffening, because he gave him a small smile and said, "She's obviously learned a great amount of control since her first day, however. I suppose we should all thank you that she's not exploding in a fit of rage…. Even though _you_ would like to be, I'm guessing."

Severus only frowned at the old man, his forehead creasing with the depth of it. The Headmaster said nothing else to him.

Not wanting to watch Vesperra be bullied if he couldn't do anything about it, Severus absentmindedly watched the ceiling, which was swirling with black and purple clouds. Forked lighting flashed across it, briefly casting a sort of glow on the Great Hall. He moved his eyes back to the House tables, but avoided looking at the Slytherins.

Hardly a minute later, the doors of the Great Hall opened, and a procession of first years led by McGonagall, who was carrying a stool and the Sorting Hat, entered.

* * *

Everyone fell silent, which Vesperra was grateful for. Some of those around her as well as people at the other tables seemed more worried, now that the Sorting was about to start and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher still wasn't here, but no one voiced their concerns.

Vesperra spent the blissfully insult-free half hour not paying very much attention to the Sorting and instead watching Severus. Without realizing it, her eyes were trained on him, and her lips had stretched into a slightly dazed smile. It was just the way that his hair fell in front of his downward-titled face, and the oddly pleasing angle that his shoulders made with his neck (and even more so with his hips, whenever he was standing up) that could get her in this state. Eventually, she noticed what she was doing and promptly forced herself to snap out of it. _Damn hormones…_

With the last student being sorted ("Whitby, Kevin!"), there was a general groan-sigh of relief in the Great Hall that they'd all finally be able to eat. Vesperra wasn't particularly glad, though she was just as starving as the next person.

Dumbledore, who had gotten to his feet, opened his arms in a welcoming manner, then said, his voice echoing around the Hall, "I only have two words to say to you: Tuck in."

The golden plates and goblets filled instantly with food (which had never gotten old to Vesperra), and Crabbe and Goyle didn't waste a single second in stuffing their faces with everything their extraordinarily thick hands could reach. None of the other Slytherins were quite as enthusiastic, but they all seemed eager to eat—and they weren't able to insult Vesperra as much while their mouths were full.

While halfway through a leg of chicken, Vesperra felt her shoulder go very cold for a brief moment, and she turned, slightly startled, to see the Bloody Baron taking the empty seat next to her. His spectral chains clanked together as he did (_how_, Vesperra wasn't sure), and the silver bloodstains on his tunic shimmered eerily from the candlelight.

It wasn't uncommon at all for the Baron to sit at the Slytherin table (as well as the other House ghosts at their respective tables), and almost less uncommon for him to choose to sit next to Vesperra. Rather than trying to make conversation with him, though, most of the Slytherins simply acknowledged him and pretended he wasn't there after that—he didn't seem like the type to want to talk, anyway. Well, at least not to most people.

"Good evening, young maiden," he said, his eyes as blank and his voice as sepulchral as ever. It was rather creepy, actually.

"Hey, Baron," muttered Vesperra after swallowing a bit of her chicken. Having attended Hogwarts for three years, she had grown not to mind him, but she still hardly spoke to him but for returning his greetings in a sort of detached way.

There was a snort of derisive laughter nearby, which, after a quick glance upwards, she realized had come from Malfoy. How could she have expected any differently…?

"Maiden? _Her?_" he said, his voice rising to a higher pitch. "I think 'hag' would be a much more accurate description…."

As the surrounding students sniggered in agreement, Vesperra threw the Baron a scowl, annoyed that he had to talk to her at all in the first place. The look he returned was nothing different than how he always looked, but he left with an "I am sorry," sinking into the ground.

About an hour later, when nearly everyone had finished second helpings of pudding, the plates in front of them were once again golden and absolutely clean of all crumbs, leaving Crabbe and Goyle disappointed (they had still been working on fourth helpings). Everyone, even the first years who hadn't had time to learn the unwritten rules of Hogwarts yet (which would have been quite a short list, had they been written), knew to shut up at that instant, for Dumbledore had gotten to his feet again.

"So!" said the Headmaster over the howling wind, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices…. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

Anyone that had attended Hogwarts for at least a year so far knew that Dumbledore was only saying this because of Filch's goading, and that absolutely _no one_ was actually going to check the list. This was evident in the man's mouth twitching as though into an almost-smirk before he continued:

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds in out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty" (_Oh God, this can't be good,_ thought Vesperra) "to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Vesperra felt a _thump_, jolting her seat slightly, and looked around quickly to see that Malfoy had kicked the table in his shock and anger. Others were gaping as well, especially the other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team—and _especially_ Montague, who had been slated to be the Captain this year. There wasn't enough time to check between Dumbledore's pause and when he continued, but she was sure that the Quidditch fanatics from the other tables were looking rather angry, too. She was merely shocked, and impatient to hear the reason.

"This is due to an event that will be starting up in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teacher's time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

But then, as though it was deliberate in order to put off this announcement, there was a loud rumble of thunder overhead and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Every head swiveled to see a man standing in the doorway, who was wearing a long, black traveling cloak and leaning upon a large staff. A fork of lightning illuminated him, and he lowered his hood before beginning to walk up to the teachers' table.

The man had a mane of dark grey hair that was grizzled and unruly even with how soaked it was from the rain. All was silent as the students' eyes followed his every step, most of them very confused; Vesperra doubted a single heart was beating, either. She also figured that she must have been the only person besides the staff who knew who this man was—Mad-Eye Moody. She didn't need to have been told what he looked like to deduce that he was the single person missing from the Staff Table.

With every other one of his steps as he limped heavily towards the front of the Hall was a dull _clunk_ (which Vesperra guessed was because of a wooden leg), and he soon passed the Slytherin table, at which she got a close view of his face.

It was enough that she might have gasped if she didn't have as much self-control as she did; every inch of Moody's face was scarred so that it hardly looked like skin anymore, and his mouth was nothing but a diagonal gash; a chunk of his nose was missing, and the bit that was left had been poorly repaired. And the weirdest—and possibly most frightening to other people—of all was his mismatched eyes, one of which was small, dark and beady, the other large and round and a vivid electric blue. The blue one was whirring around independently in its socket, obviously magical.

Moody reached the Staff Table and walked towards Dumbledore, who was calm rather than utterly transfixed like the whole of the student body, and held out a marred hand. Dumbledore shook it.

Up at the Staff Table, Severus could hear the Headmaster mutter, "Thank you for coming, but you're rather late, Alastor. Run into any trouble on the way here?"

"No," said Moody in a low growl, shaking his head. His magical eye trained itself on Severus for a second. "Just a bit distracted with Ministry proceedings."

Nodding, Dumbledore gestured for him to take the empty seat, which he did. Severus watched him warily, nervous now that Moody was here. He refrained from looking sidelong at him, and instead stared straight at the Headmaster, who was suddenly looking very cheerful again.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he announced brightly. "Professor Moody."

Due to Mad-Eye's bizarre appearance, no one could do any more than simply stare at him; only Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped at all. Even the other teachers, who must have known who he was and what he looked like beforehand, remained silent—likely because of the man's frightening demeanor. However, Vesperra was already beginning to get over it, and might have clapped a little had the rest of the Great Hall been at it as well.

There were a few whispers audible around the Hall of older students that had probably heard of Moody, but hardly anything else. Now drinking from his own hip flask rather than the goblet of pumpkin juice in front of him, he didn't seem to mind the lack of applause and even _respect _at all.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, smiled widely, and then said, "As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held in over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

Before Vesperra had the time to react or even hear the sudden, sharp inhale of those around her, one of the Weasley twins over at the Gryffindor table shouted, "You're JOKING!"

All the tension in the air broke at once, and nearly everyone laughed, including Dumbledore. Vesperra, however, was sitting very stiffly with her heart stuck, motionless, in her chest. She had read quite a bit about the Triwizard Tournament before, and what stuck out in her mind the most was all the danger involved…. And it hadn't taken more than a second for her to realize that _this _was what Severus had been referring to, what he hadn't told her about.

"I am _not _joking, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…" Vesperra saw Severus frown, annoyed, and McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "Er—but maybe this is not the time… no… where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope that those who do know will forgive me for not giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Though she knew the bulk of the story already, Vesperra listened intently as Dumbledore went on.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Perfect, Grease-perra can enter, then," whispered Malfoy to general sniggering. Vesperra scowled but didn't respond or even look back at his stupid pointed face—she was trying to pay attention to Dumbledore and not the scattered, anxious whispering around the Hall.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," continued Dumbledore after his pause, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger." ("_Damn,_" said Malfoy, along with a couple others at the table.) "The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

At that, many fervent whispers of students to their neighbors began, many of them beyond excited at the prospect of winning so much money. But people like Malfoy, who already had enough money to spare (and who were mostly at the Slytherin table), were motionless and looking smug.

"Well, this definitely sounds like your kind of thing, Grease-perra…," drawled Malfoy.

"Yeah, a thousand Galleons…. That's probably more than your blood-traitor mum has ever had in her whole life," chimed in Pansy.

_Right, like I would give any of it to my mum if I _did_ win,_ growled Vesperra mentally. She was honestly getting an undeniable desire to enter and was seriously considering it…. But it wasn't the money that attracted her the most—it was the respect that would automatically come with winning. If she made it through the tasks and came out victorious, how could any of the other students possibly hate her or torment her like they did now? It was the eternal glory she wanted…. _Eternal glory…_

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, causing the Great Hall to quiet down at once, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration." Several people looked furious at these words, others made noises of outrage, and Vesperra felt a pang of heavy disappointment, though at the same time—and she wasn't sure why—relief. But Dumbledore put up his hand and raised his voice slightly: "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Vesperra got up from her seat and moved with the crowd towards the double doors after a swift look at Severus, and the other Slytherins did the same. Her expression stony, she was practically drowning in her overwhelming thoughts about the Triwizard Tournament.

As much as she generally tried to preserve her own safety, she couldn't help but feel that the money and respect would be worth it. A part of her felt defiant, and angry that she wouldn't be allowed to compete even though she considered herself extremely skilled for a fourteen year-old. But then again, Severus would have been very worried for her if that rule didn't exist, and he most certainly would not have let her compete. And even though he had no real power over her, she would have respected his wishes and not risked her life.

She supposed that the reason she felt slightly relieved about this at the same time was that she had an excuse _not _to enter, as well. There was a good chance that she'd have gotten scared at the last second before submitting her name to whoever the impartial judge was, and that would have caused her more humiliation than entering and losing.

After making it down the steps to the dungeons with the rest of the Slytherins, many of who were muttering things like "This is rubbish, I want to enter…," something Pureblood and blonde came up beside her, smirking.

"So, Grease-perra, going to enter?" Malfoy said, casually and almost as though they were good friends.

Frowning deeply at him (which was partially for her confusion and partially because she hated to look at him), Vesperra said coldly, "You heard Dumbledore; you have to be of age."

"But you're obviously going to find a way to break the rules, aren't you? I know you want to win, I just know it—or at least be a school champion. And I _know_ you're not going to give up just because Dumbledore's making precautions…."

Vesperra narrowed her eyes at him and said nothing. She was still very annoyed all the way to the Slytherin Common Room (the password was "Sanguis") and to her dorm, where Artemis and all the rest of her things were waiting.

As she kicked off her shoes and immediately flopped onto the same four-poster she'd had for the past three years, she tried to convince herself not to live up to Malfoy's expectations. Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in the world, so there would be no point in trying to out-magic him… and in the impossible event that she _did _manage to do it and even get picked out of everyone else, what would that accomplish? People would be angry at her for entering despite the rules, and that would definitely include Severus, who would be angry at her mostly for risking her life.

Tonight, she was already feeling too exhausted to stay up longer to talk to Severus, so she didn't. Still clothed, as she didn't feel like changing into nightclothes, Vesperra pulled her bed curtains shut and found a comfortable position. And stuffing her face into her pillow, she sincerely hoped that whomever _did_ get chosen as the Hogwarts champion ended up being a Slytherin.

* * *

**Are you guys glad that Damien's appearing more and more often? You know, he's really growing on me. When I write him, I imagine him looking like a young Michael Fassbender with slightly longer hair. **

**And of course, _Nott_. I know a lot of you love him, and even though I pretty much already debunked the whole Theodore/Vesperra thing, I do too. After I get to a certain point in Book 4, I plan on posting a one-shot from his point of view. **

**Well, I hope you guys enjoyed that chapter, and I REALLY want you to review! I mean, seriously, there were no reviews for the last chapter. review!**


	50. Book 4: Chapter 4

**Even though I would have posted this anyway, you guys can consider this your early Christmad present. ^_^ And if you don't celebrate Christmas, then just disregard that. :P I'm really glad to be posting this chapter, because I finally got to _really_ write Moody-and I also got to write in the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Well, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Moody's magical eye was the stuff of nightmares, but it surprisingly didn't appear in Severus's dreams that night—not even after it had followed him through the staffroom and on his way out. He didn't know whether or not Dumbledore would have wanted the man to speak to all his new fellow staff members (or if Moody would have obliged anyway), but if he had, then Severus had narrowly escaped having to do so.

He also didn't know exactly what it was that made him want to avoid Moody so much. Well, it was more that he didn't know which of the several aspects about it all were worse: the fact that Mad-Eye was obviously very suspicious of him, or that damn eye of his. No matter who you were, it was an incontrovertible fact that having an unnaturally large, bright blue, non-blinking eye whir around and follow you everywhere, even occasionally looking out of the back of its owner's head, was _creepy_. It made even the most seemingly emotionless of men uncomfortable, and he had so far seen even Vesperra cringe because of it.

He couldn't help but spend much of his time as he changed into his nightclothes wondering what Vesperra would make of Moody once she was in one of his classes. Severus was almost afraid, for he had absolutely no idea how Mad-Eye's classes might turn out. After all, the man was legally insane….

The next morning, he oddly couldn't recall any interesting dream, though he had sort of expected to. His subconscious hadn't gone through any deep realization during the night as it had Vesperra's first two years at Hogwarts, and he didn't know whether he should have found that relieving or worrying. Perhaps it just meant that they had traveled far enough in their relationship that there wasn't much left to learn about how they felt anymore. There was definitely a lot more to learn about the secrets that both of them kept from each other, but he knew that nothing could change how they _felt_.

But as Severus tore off his blanket and let the soles of his feet make contact with the cold floor, then simultaneously walked to the bathroom and pulled off his nightclothes, nearly tripping on the hem of his bottoms and throwing the shirt aside after he'd unbuttoned it, he wasn't getting ready for a day simply interacting with Vesperra, or even a day of just being a person. He was getting ready for being a teacher, and he was honestly quite reluctant to be doing so.

A shower calmed his nerves a bit and gave him time to procrastinate being near Moody again. It was almost twenty minutes of standing under warm water before he administered some self-discipline and told himself that he was going to have to get used to being near Moody every day for the rest of the year. He also told himself that if he stayed in the shower forever, he wouldn't be able to see or talk to Vesperra.

It really surprised him how immature he could be sometimes, but he supposed that even those that have lived harsh lives and become extremely wise because of them have their moments where they revert to a childish state of mind. And it wasn't necessarily _bad_ to have those sort of moments… as long as they didn't last long enough to affect your life in general. So, in his case, it actually was rather bad.

Severus wasn't surprised a half an hour later, though, when he walked into the staffroom and saw that Moody was already in there, talking in his low, gravelly voice to McGonagall. He'd have figured that the man was an early riser… probably late to go to bed, as well. A retired Auror with his level of paranoia wasn't bound to get much sleep.

Moody's electric blue eye, which had been roving slowly before, immediately shot around to look directly at Severus; and McGonagall, who must have noticed it suddenly stopping, glanced around. She didn't seem to think much of it that Moody was looking so intently at him, and automatically returned to her conversation.

Avoiding looking at that scarred face and grizzled mane of hair, he crossed the room in four quick strides and didn't linger at all before opening the door that led to the Great Hall behind the Staff Table. Even when he was on the other side and had sat down in his usual seat, Severus was sure that Moody's eye was surveying him through the wall.

He absolutely hated this. Unlike Quirrell, whom he had actually been fighting _against_ the whole year, or Lockhart, whom he had simply been very annoyed by, or Lupin, whom he had, for a very long time, held a grudge against, Mad-Eye Moody was a colleague that he could not help but be somewhat afraid of. Severus _hated_ fearing a fellow teacher—alright, not _fearing_, but feeling nervous around. Either way, he was used to being the dominant one in every conversation, the one who looked down at everyone (mostly because of his height), the one whom people felt uncomfortable around…. But now he wasn't. And while he could easily keep any of his emotions (or whatever else you could call them in this situation) from showing in his face or bodily gestures, he couldn't stop himself from actually feeling it. Occlumency didn't work against that sort of thing.

And whenever that damn eye looked at him, Severus felt like it was looking into his soul.

Rather than McGonagall and Moody, who had been the only ones in the staffroom when he had gotten there, Dumbledore was the next one to pass through the staffroom into the Great Hall. His half-moon glasses didn't give off a glare even for a brief second as they normally would have in the morning (last night's storm had gone during the night, but the sky was still a pewter gray), and his grin was easily discernable even through his beard. Once the Headmaster sat down, he tucked his beard into his belt as he always did before eating, then turned to his right.

"Have you spoken to Alastor at all yet, Severus?" queried Dumbledore casually, as though he knew exactly what Severus had been thinking about.

There was about a second's hesitation before he swallowed the gulp of pumpkin juice that was in his mouth and said, coldly, "No, I haven't. I suppose you're going to give me a lecture on why I should stop being so immature?"

"Actually, I wasn't," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling for some inane reason—Severus was sure that the old man did it on purpose just to annoy him. "Most of the other teachers haven't done so either, and I wouldn't be surprised if they put it off until it was absolutely necessary. It's a shame, really, that people should judge Alastor without knowing more than his battle scars and magic eye, but I still can't be surprised. I think many of the students will take a liking to him, though. They'll be eager for a Defense teacher that isn't—well, in their words, _boring_."

At that, Severus frowned; it sounded like Dumbledore had just purposely contradicted himself to make a point. But then again, it could also have been that he either wasn't thinking about or forgot to mention the fact that Moody would have been especially disconcerting to an ex-Death Eater. He decided not to mention it, though, and instead voiced the other thought that had come to mind:

"And Vesperra?" he whispered, leaning over and quickly glancing to both sides to make sure no one had heard. "Is Moody going to be so hands-on with it that she'll downright refuse? I daresay you know and remember what happened at the beginning of last year with Lupin."

Gossip about Vesperra's boggart hadn't gotten around extremely far, but Dumbledore was practically omniscient when it came to Hogwarts, even about the little things.

"To make a guess, Severus, I think Miss D'Monicas will like him—if she doesn't already know of your dislike towards him, that is. I can't tell you exactly how Alastor plans to run his classes, but—"

The clicking noise of a door being opened sounded behind them, and there was a dull _clunk_ as the man they were talking about stepped out from it. Instead of looking alarmed, Dumbledore finished his sentence: "—I trust him."

He then leaned back in the Headmaster's chair and began peeling apart an orange with his long, bony fingers, acting as though no conversation had taken place. Severus leaned back in his, looking purposely at his plate and trying not to pay attention to Moody's presence at all.

"'Morning, Professor Dumbledore… Professor Snape," said Moody in his growl of a voice as he passed, surprising the latter. Although, Severus realized that he had been addressed with a hint of dislike, so it wasn't so surprising then.

"Good morning, Professor Moody," the Headmaster greeted, still peeling his orange.

Severus didn't return the morning greetings, though. He shifted his focus from his plate to the Great Hall before him, and scanned the House tables out of habit. His eyes swept over Potter, who was with his friends, and they seemed to pass immediately over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables before they rested on Vesperra and the group of Slytherins around her.

_If the others hate her so damn much, why don't they just stay away from her?_ thought Severus angrily, even though he couldn't tell whether any insults were being thrown at the moment. But it was more of a complaint than a question, since he already knew the answer to it; they liked to antagonize her. It was nine against one—there wasn't exactly much she could do to fight back, especially not when they knew that she would be trying her best not to explode when _he_ was watching.

He only let his gaze to linger for a second, lest Malfoy or anyone else notice him looking directly at Vesperra. That would only make things worse for her. And he knew things would hardly get better for her, but if it was within his power, he wanted to make sure her time at Hogwarts was easier than it had been for him.

* * *

Halfway through breakfast, Vesperra was feeling the compelling urge to throw her fork at Malfoy. This wasn't new to her, and so it was easy to resist it—even though she really didn't want to. It was only to keep herself from getting detention that her fork continued to have the purpose of carrying eggs to her mouth instead of spearing Malfoy and turning him into a shish-kabob.

She had already been passed her course schedule (which Malfoy wasn't able to intercept this time—though it was more likely that he didn't want to, since it didn't even matter anymore), and decided that today would be a relatively good one as far as classes went. It was mostly that she wouldn't have any of the boring ones, and that there would be only three, since she had two double periods.

"Good Lord, we have that oaf for two hours just before lunch?" Malfoy had said upon examining his schedule. "How can I possibly look forward to lunch if I know I've got a good chance of _dying_ before I get the chance?"

Malfoy and nearly every other Slytherin but Vesperra (she wasn't sure about Nott, because they had never talked about this) was still very contemptuous towards Hagrid—but Malfoy especially. He still hadn't quite gotten over his father's failure to get Buckbeak executed, and now held a grudge against the Gamekeeper.

"That's a perfectly good reason for _me_ to be looking forward to lunch, then," said Vesperra, not having been able to help herself.

Honestly, though, she was worrying about the first Care of Magical Creatures class of the year just as much as everyone else, and for her own safety. Hagrid was sure to have regained much of his confidence over the summer—and, of course, what he called "boring" might have been an absolute monster to them. The least she could hope for was that, whatever it was, it ate Malfoy—or at least a piece of him.

After breakfast, the Slytherins headed up to McGonagall's classroom for Transfiguration, and many of the others seemed rather reluctant to be starting off with that subject. Even Vesperra found it difficult on occasion, and it was probably her hardest class. But she didn't mind the difficulty so much as long as it kept her focused and occupied; when she was given the chance to use her mind and _truly_ utilize it, especially when she was given a challenge, she wouldn't be bored. So she liked it.

"Before we begin today's lesson, I want to make sure you all realize that concentration will apply more than ever in this level of Transfiguration," said McGonagall, standing just as stiffly as her voice in the front of the classroom.

Just as Severus did, she commanded absolute silence with simply her presence (though in a far different way: With Severus, Vesperra would hang onto every word he said if for no other reason than to just hear his voice, but with McGonagall, she just knew that making any disruption would cause her to be given detention immediately). Even Crabbe and Goyle and Malfoy, who were never up to any good and almost always whispering together, sat still and silently.

"During your fourth year, you will begin to learn both Cross-Species Switches and Vanishment, which is much more complex than anything you've done before," continued McGonagall. "It requires such a strong force of mind that I do not expect too many of you to have the ability to do it well—and those of you who _don't_ will likely already know who you are. That group of people should make a mental note to work hard in advance, and even then, you may not want to continue with Transfiguration after fifth year—this subject isn't for everybody."

Professor McGonagall went off on that tangent, beginning to explain how to Transfigure fire into different shapes (since they wouldn't be beginning the more complex stuff she'd mentioned until later in the year) as the class took notes. Vesperra's hand was beginning to move so quickly across her sheaf of parchment that her wrist was cramping up very badly, but she persisted in writing so that she wouldn't miss anything.

A few tables over, she could hear Malfoy whispering to Crabbe and Goyle so quietly that she could hardly hear (so McGonagall definitely wouldn't, either), but she did manage to pick up the sentence: "If it isn't for everybody, then why have anyone take it once they've proven they're absolutely horrible at it?"

This was one of the few things that had ever come out of Malfoy's mouth that Vesperra could agree with; she had a feeling that he had been talking about his own friends when he said that, anyway. Crabbe and Goyle would never do well in _any _subject, especially not Transfiguration—hell, why not just remove them from Hogwarts altogether? Neither their minds nor their magic were strong enough, and the best they would ever amount to would be bodyguards. And that was what they already were.

Without Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy would be practically powerless…. Without those two trolls, he was too much of a coward to do anything. Of course, there had been times when he had confronted Vesperra alone, but in general, he would be less powerful socially, and other people would be less afraid to stand up to him.

But until they did something worse that just pushing Vesperra into walls (or to the ground), they'll have done nothing to warrant expulsion. So she continued to focus on her Transfiguration notes and not on anything Malfoy-related.

They left the classroom about forty minutes later already with an essay hanging over them, and Vesperra was clearly not the only one thinking about ditching Care of Magical Creatures to do it. It wasn't so much the desire to finish it as soon as possible as it was the resentment of having a Double class-period with Hagrid, whatever creatures he had in store for them, and the Gryffindors.

As they made their way down the stone steps and the water-sodden, grassy slopes to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid's hut was, they noticed that all the Gryffindors were already there. Vesperra took care not to tread harshly on any puddles, so as to not get the bottom half of her school robes soaked, but that was all made in vain after Goyle had stomped directly behind her. Mud and water splashed up onto her robes and legs, and she immediately turned back to Malfoy, scowling with cold loathing. It was quite a simple act, and he had only been the one to tell Goyle to do it, but it seemed to mark the beginning of that year's war.

It _was_ a war—a war of wits. But it was not one of who would make whom more miserable; neither of them would end up _miserable_. Vesperra wasn't quite sure what it was, but the closest thing she could think of was that it would be to see who had the last laugh. And who got the most revenge.

The open crates on the ground became visible as they drew nearer, and the Gryffindors seemed too preoccupied with looking at whatever was in them to notice that the Slytherins had come up directly behind them. Vesperra was slightly afraid to look inside, but she did anyway:

In each crate were about a hundred six inch-long, lumpy-looking creatures—but Vesperra wasn't sure if she could even consider them creatures. There were no visible heads, and out of the horribly pale, slimy skin were legs protruding in odd places. The closest thing she could compare it to was a lobster or crab—and that was when it was de-shelled and ready to be boiled. Incidentally, they also smelt strongly of rotting fish. Her father having worked at the fishery in Stoneyard for as long as she could remember, she knew more about fish and crustaceans than she'd have liked to, and was more used to the smell of rotting fish than she should have been.

And, impossibly (as Vesperra wouldn't think that they would be able to move properly with uneven legs), the things inside the crates were restlessly scuttling over each other, looking determined to escape their confinement even though they were too young to see just yet. Right now, they looked—as disgusting as they were,—harmless, but she was _sure _that this couldn't be all of it, or else Hagrid wouldn't have cared about them.

Just as she thought that, as though on cue, one of the things had sparks fly out of one of its ends and propel itself forward a few inches, landing with a small _phut_.

_Oh God no_. In only three seconds, she had already decided that this year would be a disaster.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid in a proud tone, most likely continuing something he had been saying before Vesperra and the rest of the Slytherins had shown up, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we _want_ to raise them?" drawled Malfoy, taking the words right out of Vesperra's mouth. His cronies chuckled appreciatively, and Hagrid looked absolutely stumped. "I mean, what do they _do_? What is the _point_ of them?"

Having been on the receiving end of Malfoy's taunts for years, Vesperra knew that he was saying this more to confuse and embarrass Hagrid than he was to complain about taking care of them. It was the precision of his cold voice and the careful way he chose and emphasized his words that had made it obvious, if it weren't for the malice in his grey eyes that was unmistakable even from several feet away. She had seen that look much too often.

And yet, she didn't feel at all sorry for Hagrid. That was partly because of her heartless nature and partly because she knew the man was going to make her dislike him a lot more in the near future.

"Tha's next lesson, Malfoy," said Hagrid roughly after a second's hesitation. "Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things—I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer—I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake—just try 'em out with a bit of each."

Though she looked perfectly calm on the outside, Vesperra was a whirlwind of panic on the inside. _Merlin, he doesn't know what he's bloody doing. At all. He didn't even try it out himself first! How the hell are we supposed to know if these things won't grow up to kill us or not, if even he doesn't?_

But she didn't say any of this, because she didn't want to look like a coward.

It was only this that kept her from stepping far away from the boxes and refusing to do as Hagrid asked, and even then, she did so with much trepidation. Vesperra didn't want her hands too near those things when they shot off, and so she ended up appearing indecisive as to whether or not she wanted to set the handfuls of food out for them. Holding a handful of chopped-up grass snakes, she frowned down at her hands, not being able to help feeling awkward and like she was holding bits of her own kind. But it was mostly just awkward.

After about ten minutes, the creatures (which, though the Slytherins hadn't been there to hear Hagrid say so, Vesperra now knew to be called "Blast-Ended Skrewts" thanks to someone else mentioning it) still hadn't gone for any of the offered food. She hadn't expected so, since none of them seemed to have mouths—but Vesperra had used her wand to turn a few of them over and saw that some of them had suckers on their underbellies.

A lot of the Slytherins were hanging behind, unwilling to go near them at all (especially Pansy Parkinson), and muttering to each other about how stupid this was and how incompetent of a teacher Hagrid was. And Vesperra was sure that she caught a couple comparisons of herself to a Skrewt in there, too.

"_Ouch!_" yelled Dean Thomas, causing Vesperra to jerk her head to the side and see him quickly pull his hand out of one of the crates. "It got me!"

Looking anxious, Hagrid hurried over to him and looked at the burn on Thomas's hand. From where Vesperra was standing, she could see that it was pretty bad; she felt quite the opposite of pity for him. It did make her more reluctant to touch the Skrewts herself, though.

But Hagrid didn't look worried at all. He nodded and said dismissively, "Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off."

And then, a couple people over—"Eurgh!" screamed Lavender Brown, a Gryffindor girl that Vesperra had only ever known to be extremely girly and annoying. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

At that, Hagrid looked rather enthusiastic (and Vesperra's brow furrowed more deeply). "Ah, some of 'em have got stings. I reckon they're males…. The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies…. I think they might be ter suck blood."

Having never heard of Blast-Ended Skrewts before, Vesperra also didn't know whether or not its stinger would cause lasting damage, so she gave up and backed away from the crates at once. Since Hagrid apparently didn't even know much about them, she figured that he must have bred them illegally or something.

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy coldly and sarcastically, taking a step back from his crate as well. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," snapped Granger from across the group of students, and loudly enough that everyone in the vicinity could hear. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

Vesperra's mind automatically went to the Welsh Green that Damien was more than likely still keeping in the back of his father's shop, and the edges of her lips twitched. She also noticed that Malfoy, rather than scowling or donning a look of contempt, threw a sly smirk to Crabbe and Goyle, and she was pretty sure why: In their first year, Malfoy had been the one to discover that Hagrid had a dragon and nearly get him, along with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, caught.

For the rest of the lesson (there was still an hour left), Vesperra along with many others continued to avoid the crates and were completely unproductive—not that trying to take care of the Blast-Ended Skrewts would have been productive. It would have been better to kill them all before they got big enough to kill _them_…. And when Vesperra found herself finally heading back up to the castle for lunch (with Malfoy unfortunately still alive), she was dreading having the Skrewts as a weekly thing. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't let Hagrid have those on the grounds once they got bigger….

After lunch was, luckily, Double Ancient Runes, which meant two hours without Malfoy—and that made up for the Care of Magical Creatures class rather well. Professor Babbling gave a short lecture similar to McGonagall's about the difficulty of this year's studies, and then gave them a pop quiz as a review to see how much they remembered (which should have been quite a bit, since they were supposed to study at least somewhat over the summer).

Vesperra and Theodore Nott left the Ancient Runes classroom and headed down to dinner together, though without any conversation between them. When they arrived, people were staring to queue up outside the Great Hall's closed doors, as it was still several minutes before dinner was supposed to start. The House Elves must have still been cooking.

A minute after the both of them had joined the line (in which many others had gotten behind them), they heard someone shout, "Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Even from across the crowded, chattering Entrance Hall, Vesperra could easily hear and recognize the voice, and there was no way to ignore it. Part of her didn't even want to, since it was clear that Malfoy intended to humiliate or insult someone else—but she turned around and craned her neck to see over the taller students that were facing that direction as well.

There was satisfaction extremely evident on Malfoy's pale, pointed, face—a sign that something bad had happened. Nothing good according to most other people could put that kind of pleased look on Malfoy or his cronies' faces.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were standing in the very back of the queue, frowning at Malfoy. Vesperra saw the ginger's mouth move, and though she couldn't quite hear him, it looked a lot like "What?"

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy very loudly, withdrawing a rolled-up _Daily Prophet_ from his robes and dramatically whipping it open. "Listen to this!" Many people turned to watch as he held up the newspaper and began to read, and Vesperra listened intently in spite of herself.

"'_**Further**__**Mistakes at the Ministry of Magic**__: It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office._'"

Everyone in the Entrance Hall seemed to be listening now, but none of them seemed to care as much as Vesperra did about the bit about the disappearance of a Ministry witch. This automatically clicked in her head as something that could very well connect to the steady return of Voldemort, and something that Severus would definitely want to know if he didn't already. She stood stock still and continued listening to the silence, waiting for Malfoy to continue and hoping to hear something else of importance. Vesperra was too focused on this to wonder how he had gotten a hold of the _Daily Prophet_ in the first place.

Malfoy looked up from the newspaper, grinning maliciously, and crowed, "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"

Straightening the paper with a flourish, he went on: "'_Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer _Daily Prophet_ questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._'"

Pausing there, Malfoy indicated that the article was over, which left Vesperra disappointed and actually a bit miffed. It seemed as though it had been more of an attempt for Rita Skeeter to humiliate the Ministry than it was to inform anyone of anything. And as much as she disliked Weasley, she didn't understand why it would have been a bad thing for his dad to help Moody.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy gleefully, flipping the paper over and holding it up. At this point, Vesperra couldn't even see it, nor did she care, but she continued to watch anyway. "A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

_Low blow, Malfoy…,_ noted Vesperra apathetically, now looking to Weasley with everyone else. His face was going as red as his hair, and he was shaking. With the Entrance Hall as silent as it was, she could hear Potter say, "Get stuffed, Malfoy. Come on, Ron…."

But before they could turn away completely, Malfoy sneered, his smirk growing wider, "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter? So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

At this, Nott, who was standing to Vesperra's right, gave an audible gasp—and she couldn't blame him. Malfoy was being his absolute worst right now…. At least it wasn't towards her.

Weasley made a motion as though to leap forward at Malfoy, and for a moment Vesperra was eager to watch them punch it out, but then Potter and Granger grabbed the back of his robes, stopping him.

"You know _your_ mother, Malfoy?" said Potter, his voice threatening—"that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

_Woah, score one for Potter,_ thought Vesperra, amused. The crowd stiffened, aware that there would likely be a duel soon if a teacher didn't intervene, and she suddenly felt something grip her hand very hard—

Twisting her head around, she saw that it was Nott. Figuring that his hand must have unconsciously gone for something to grip in anticipation, she wasn't as angry or confused as she would have been otherwise, nor was her expression as she jerked her hand away and looked at him.

"Sorry," Nott said quickly, blanching with obvious embarrassment and pulling his hand away as well. He purposefully looked away and folded his arms behind his back.

Meanwhile, Malfoy's face had gone slightly pink. The muscles in his face twisted into anger—not wholly from humiliation, but a sort of anger that Vesperra wasn't sure she'd ever seen before in him—as he said, "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Potter, turning away.

Malfoy's scowl became worse, and his hand automatically flew to his pocket and withdrew his wand, which he pointed at Potter's back. He muttered something that Vesperra couldn't hear, but he had done it all so hastily that he must not have aimed well, for the spell that shot out of the tip of his wand only grazed the side of Potter's face.

Several people had screamed the moment before Malfoy's spell had given off a BANG, and Vesperra wasn't sure whether to be frightened or excited. She watched Potter start to pull out his own wand, but, suddenly and utterly unexpectedly, there was a second BANG and Malfoy seemed to have disappeared.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Mad-Eye Moody was limping down the marble staircase, his wooden leg clunking as he went, his mane of grey hair looking even more grizzled, and his magical eye spinning around to the back of his head so that all they could see in that socket was white. His arm was outstretched with his wand still pointed at where Malfoy had been standing, and everyone in the Entrance Hall went silent at once.

It took a second for Vesperra to notice what was on the floor and realize that Moody's spell had not made Malfoy disappear; he was now a pure-white ferret, shivering on the stone-flagged floor. Her eyes widened and her lips cracked into a smile, but she resisted the urge to laugh. And it was actually quite strong.

"Did he get you?" said Moody, turning to Potter. His low, gravelly voice was perfectly audible in the silent hall.

"No," said Potter, "missed."

Behind Moody, Crabbe had started to bend down to pick up ferret-Malfoy, but before he could, Moody shouted, apparently able to see out the back of his head, "LEAVE IT!"

"Leave—what?" said Potter, looking confused.

"Not you—him!" growled Moody, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Crabbe had frozen, looking frightened. He turned around and started to limp towards Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off scurrying toward the dungeons.

But Moody pointed his wand straight at Malfoy. "I don't think so!" he roared. The ferret flew ten feet in the air, fell to the floor with an audible smack, and then bounced upward again. Vesperra didn't attempt to suppress her laughter anymore, but it came out as breathless giggling. Some of the people around, including Nott, were staring. Though a lot of people hated Malfoy, very few seemed to be enjoying this—but that was most likely out of shock.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody, continuing to bounce ferret-Malfoy higher and higher into the air. Its legs and tail were flailing helplessly as it bounced, and it was evident from the increasing pitch in squeaks that he was in very much pain. At this thought, Vesperra's eyes lit up even more. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…. Never—do—that—again—" said Moody threateningly, speaking each word as ferret-Malfoy hit the floor.

"Professor Moody!"

Vesperra and many others had been too fixated on Moody and Malfoy to notice Professor McGonagall coming down the staircase, and it was only at her shrill, shocked scream that they turned to see her stop near the bottom step, her arms full of books.

Moody didn't seem fazed, but simply said, "Hello, Professor McGonagall." He was still bouncing Malfoy up and down, making him go a bit higher with each bounce.

"What—what are you doing?" said McGonagall, her eyes following the progress of the ferret through the air.

"Teaching."

Vesperra couldn't help but snort at that.

"Teach—Moody, _is that a student_?" shrieked McGonagall, dropping all the books in her shock.

"Yep."

"No!" Professor McGonagall ran down the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, pulling out her wand. With a complicated wave of it and a loud snapping noise, the ferret was gone and Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor. His usually sleek, white-blond hair was now all over his face, which was now a brilliant shade of pink.

The sight of Vesperra's worst enemy (or arch-nemesis, if she was feeling dramatic) in such a vulnerable state brought back good memories. Unfortunately, he was strong enough to get to his feet seconds later.

Looking over Malfoy to make sure he was alright, McGonagall said, in a weak voice unlike her usual one, "Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody unconcernedly, scratching his chin, "but I thought a good sharp shock—"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody. He was staring at Malfoy with both eyes and great dislike.

At that moment, merely from seeing how much Moody disliked—possibly even _hated_—Malfoy, Vesperra decided that she liked him. If it wasn't enough that he had turned him into a ferret and humiliated him, not to mention caused him physical pain.

Looking malevolently up at Moody, Malfoy seemed to be trying to blink back the water in his eyes. He muttered something that sounded awfully like, "I don't think my father will be very happy to hear about this—"

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly and dangerously. He limped forward a few steps, and Vesperra had to strain her ears a bit to hear him. "Well, I know your father of old, boy…. You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me…. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…. Come on, you…."

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm, then marched him off to the dungeons, leaving Vesperra confused. Of course, she knew that Moody hadn't used the words "old friend" in a serious way, but Severus hadn't told her about him having much of a relationship at all with the man during the summer. He had seemed slightly nervous about Mad-Eye teaching at Hogwarts (aside from the fact that he was taking up the position Severus wanted), and now it seemed as though they used to be in a relationship of mutual bitterness, at the least.

Her smirk had faltered, but she righted herself and hoped it had gone unnoticed. She was still extremely happy about what she had just witnessed, and it was obvious that she wasn't the only one.

"Well, my day just got a million times better," muttered Vesperra less than a minute later as she began walking into the Great Hall, Nott walking beside her.

"I noticed that," he said, amusement in his voice. "You were actually _laughing_…. If that were any other situation, I would have thought you'd gone mad."

"Not mad, just in an extremely good mood now."

Although, there were a couple other emotions in the mix: Vesperra was a little disappointed that she wouldn't have the chance to tell Severus all about Malfoy herself, she was anxious to hear from _him_ what happened between him and Moody, and she was also quite starving.

* * *

The first day of classes had been rather strenuous for Severus, and he was already scowling from the headache after the last lesson of the day. Ironically enough, scowling was only making it worse.

Instead of taking a Calming Draught right away after his third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had left to go to dinner, he made to put away and organize all the flasks that they had turned in. It was the Shrinking Solution assignment, and none of them had been as bad as Longbottom's from the year before.

After Severus finished with that and downed a Calming Draught, he straightened his robes and stood up from the spot where he had been kneeling on the ground. With the intention of heading straight to dinner, he made for the door of his office, but it was only two steps until he heard loud knocking from the other side.

He ruled out Vesperra in an instant, for it hadn't been their special knock, and in the next instant he ruled out Dumbledore, because it had been too loud. Severus could tell that whoever it was either had very strong knuckles or was very anxious to see him. Possibly both.

Furrowing his brow, he unlocked and opened the door. On the other side was none other than Mad-Eye Moody, whose left hand was gripping Draco Malfoy's upper arm, the right holding his walking stick (which Severus guessed he might have used to knock on the door). The man's diagonal gash of a mouth was twisted in a strange sort of smile—or grimace? Severus couldn't be sure, with all the other scars on his face—and Malfoy was avoiding Moody's eye, pink blotches in his cheeks and his hair uncharacteristically ruffled.

"I suppose you can guess why I'm here, Professor Snape," growled Moody, opening his normal eye the slightest bit wider, "but that's just me assuming that Malfoy here does these sort of things often."

"What?" snapped Severus, though he tried to keep his voice even. This was the first time he'd spoken directly to Moody in a very long time, if ever, and he had felt something drop in his stomach. "What did he do?"

He made sure to keep his voice with an air of possible disbelief, since he generally acted as though he liked Malfoy. And he had to keep up that act, if only to protect the secrecy of his and Vesperra's relationship. So, lowering his eyelids, he looked calmly down at the blond brat, who was looking back up at him with worry. Severus sincerely hoped that whatever he had done had had nothing to do with Vesperra.

Moody cocked his head a fraction of an inch to the right, narrowing his eye (the other one stayed as perfectly round as ever) and making an expression that seemed to ask whether or not Severus was going to let him in. In spite of himself, he stepped aside so that Moody could drag Malfoy in by the arm and almost forcibly sit him down in one of the chairs.

"Malfoy here was antagonizing Potter and Weasley," explained Moody, sounding oddly formal for a moment, "and then he tried to curse Potter while his back was turned. Unprovoked and cowardly dueling—what do you make of that, Professor?"

"And Potter did absolutely _nothing_ to warrant this attack?" said Severus, narrowing his eyes. Though he didn't want to let Malfoy completely off the hook, he doubted that Potter was innocent. That boy never was.

"He _did_—he had a go at my mother!" interjected Malfoy, looking like he had been about to rise from the chair but then thought better of it.

"And you were doing just the same with Weasley," growled Moody, scowling down at Malfoy, "who's got a much more respectable family than _you_, if you ask me." He bent down closer, practically jabbing his forefinger into the boy's chest, and the fear in his face expanded. "There was no damn excuse for that, you little—" The positioning of Moody's lips made it evident that he was about to use a word that would have been highly inappropriate in a classroom setting.

"Professor Moody!" said Severus in alarm, raising his voice. It was actually quite unusual for him to raise his voice, though; he generally used a soft, threatening tone when he wanted to intimidate students, but that wouldn't have worked in this situation.

"Yeah?" Mad-Eye stood up straight again and raised his eyebrows (or what was left of them). He then, without apparent rhyme or reason, reached for the flask at his hip, pushed back the hinged cork, and gulped down some of whatever was in there before returning it to his belt.

"I am his Head of House, and I believe you brought him here specifically to delegate punishment, and so _I_ will be the one to decide how harsh to be," said Severus coldly.

Malfoy spoke up again, the color rising in his face. "Professor Snape, he's already—he—already punished me—"

"What?" snapped Severus again. He looked back and forth between Malfoy's still pink face and Moody's unconcerned one, frowning.

Apparently reluctant to tell him what had happened, Malfoy swallowed before saying, "He turned me into a ferret, and—kept bouncing me on the ground, over and over again…. He only stopped when Professor McGonagall showed up."

Breifly, Severus imagined Vesperra's expression at all of this and fought the urge to smile, but then he raised an eyebrow at Moody, almost in disbelief that he would do something like that. Even _he_ would never have been that cruel to a student (though he did think that Malfoy deserved it, and that scaring and humiliating the shit out of students like Longbottom was actually crueler, just in a different way).

And he then realized that, since Moody had already hurt and humiliated Malfoy, this couldn't have been all he was here for. The man must have wanted to talk to him about something else, and bringing the boy was just a cover-up.

"I see," said Severus shortly. Folding his arms, he looked over his hooked nose down at Malfoy, who still looked a bit frightened. "There will be no further punishment, then; I think you've suffered enough. You may leave, Mr. Malfoy."

Giving him an extremely grateful and relieved look, he got up and made for the door as quickly as possible, not looking back as he ran out of it. Severus took a step towards the door as well, hoping to avoid further interaction with Moody—but it was a false and useless hope.

"Hold on—I still have business with you, Snape," said Moody, holding out one arm to stop him from walking farther.

_Oh, so we've eliminated the title of 'Professor' now,_ thought Severus scathingly. He was sure simply because of that detail that this would not be a friendly conversation. And he was already feeling more uncomfortable, but he continued to hold himself firmly. At least he was taller than Moody.

"And what might that be?" he asked calmly, turning to view Moody at an angle rather than stepping backward. Severus wanted to maintain at least somewhat of an intimidating stature. He mentally prepared himself not to flinch, expecting the man to inquire about how he came to work at Hogwarts, mention his old ways as an ex-Death Eater, question his loyalties….

"Well, I'll make this clear, Snape," said Moody, accentuating the point he was about to make by tapping his walking stick on the ground. "I don't particularly trust you. But it's really nothing personal, since you know there's very few people that I _do_ trust. I've spoken to Dumbledore about this—"

"And I'm sure you've found that the Headmaster trusts me greatly, and that he has no reason not to," Severus said quietly, folding his arms tighter.

"You're right; he won't have a word against you. _But_, I still think differently, and he's given me permission to search your office."

Heightening the arch in his eyebrow, Severus's expression twisted into one of anger and bewilderment. "_Search my office?_" he repeated, his voice raising in pitch and becoming slightly more nasal. "What do you think you could possibly find in my office that would incriminate me?"

"Auror's privileges, Snape," Moody grunted, his magical eye whizzing around, likely taking in the room. "And I think there could be a number of things in your office that I might find interesting." At that, he trained both of his eyes on Severus, and his tongue darted out of his mouth for a split second, licking his lips. It wasn't a nervous tick, Severus was sure; it was an intimidation tactic.

"I refuse to believe that Dumbledore gave you permission to do this. He _trusts_ me."

"I've told you, Snape, _I_ don't. And if you don't have anything to hide, you don't have anything to fear. Why should you care whether I have a look through your office?" Moody cocked his head, as though daring him to tell him there were Dark objects in the office—which would have been a lie.

"Only for my privacy, Moody," said Severus smoothly. His temper was rising, and his voice was becoming more dangerous. "In case you haven't realized, everyone's entitled to it. Dumbledore knows I have nothing to hide, which is why he _never _would have allowed you to do this."

"Keep this up, Snape, and I'll only have more of a reason not to trust you."

For a minute, he was silent with a slightly furrowed brow and pursed lips. Having Moody distrust him was one of the last things he wanted, and that would be counter-productive when it came to protecting Potter, which both of them were at Hogwarts to do. Whether or not Dumbledore actually _had _given Moody permission to search his office (which Severus still didn't believe), it would be better just to agree. Otherwise, the both of them would be in his office all night, and the Auror would continue to be suspicious of him.

"_Fine,_" Severus finally said, unfolding his arms and throwing both hands jerkily into the air in reluctant agreement. He let his arms fall to his sides, then scowled. "Fine, but I assure you that you won't find anything of interest. I've been working at Hogwarts for thirteen years, I'm sure you know this."

"Yes," said Moody, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile, "and I also know that you're pretty skilled at hiding things. I just want to know _what_, if you are, and from _who_." He paused, as though waiting for something, and then said, "You better be off to dinner, Snape."

Severus inhaled deeply, hating being told what to do in his own office. But, if only to keep from having a row with the Auror, he bit back any remarks and turned to walk toward the door. He felt Moody's magical eye boring into the back of his head as he left.

* * *

Vesperra was puzzled to see Severus and Malfoy arrive at the Great Hall and not Moody, but that changed later that night when she and Severus spoke through the journals. He explained to her what had happened, and how he had returned to his office to find it much less organized than it had been before, students' papers strewn about and many of the drawers left open.

She could tell that he was extremely angry because of it, and this put her in a tight spot. It was obvious that Severus felt extreme dislike towards Moody, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him after what he had done to Malfoy. After gaining all that respect from her, there was hardly a thing he could have to lose it again—and ransacking Severus's office was only just on the edge of being enough.

It also left her still more confused; why didn't Moody trust Severus? She had asked him this, and he hadn't a straight answer to give her. All he had said was:

_There were some problems in the past—he still doesn't find me trustworthy._

Though Vesperra's liking for Moody had gone down some, she was still anxious for the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson in the morning the next day.

Because of what he had put Malfoy through, most of the Slytherins already hated Professor Moody. '_Most_' being the operative word—meaning everyone but Vesperra and Theodore Nott. They had all avoided talking about it in front of Malfoy, for it had obviously put him in very much pain and humiliated him greatly, but then he mentioned it and that gave everyone the signal that it was okay to do so as well.

"He's absolutely insane," muttered Malfoy bitterly during breakfast on Tuesday morning. There was a frightened quiver in his voice, however, and he was more subdued than his usual self. "I don't even want to _think_ about what his classes will be like…. Dumbledore's got an affinity for hiring maniacs to teach us, doesn't he?"

"If he tries to do something like that again, tell Professor Snape," advised Tracey, glancing toward Severus at the Staff Table. "He doesn't seem to like Moody very much, and he let you off the hook, so he might be able to do something about it."

Malfoy cringed, likely at the thought of undergoing such a punishment a second time. This was the time where he would generally say something involving telling his father about this, but he seemed to be scared to do even that. Perhaps he feared that Moody would only be worse to him, or he knew that his father had no power over this.

_Perfect, now Moody's the Severus to his Potter,_ thought Vesperra as she cut up her kippers and smirked to herself. She and everyone in Hogwarts but the other Slytherins were still very happy about the entire incident. The story had gotten around since last night, and people were still laughing about it, both to themselves and to Malfoy's face. Some were even walking by the Slytherin table with malicious smirks and taunting him about it, calling him ferret-related nicknames and laughing.

"You know, Malfoy," said Vesperra in a would-be casual tone as she set down her fork and smiled unpleasantly, "hippogriffs _eat_ ferrets. Fate has a weird way of working out, doesn't it?"

The rest of that part of the table was deadly silent as she continued to eat, and Pansy looked back and forth from Malfoy, who had donned a look of growing horror, to her.

"Stirred up traumatic memories, have I?" Vesperra said without waiting for a reply, slight laughter in her voice.

"You can shove it, Grease-perra," said Pansy angrily and shrilly, putting an arm around Malfoy. She along with almost everybody else scowled at her.

Ignoring them as Malfoy would often ignore a remark like this from her, Vesperra simply ate her breakfast, continuing to be in a good mood. It felt remarkably satisfying to have switched positions with the person whom she hated more than anything, and to have the upper hand. She didn't feel the slightest pang of guilt for having sunk to Malfoy's level, but that was mostly because she had already been on Malfoy's level. The only difference between them was that he usually had more powerful forces (Crabbe and Goyle) on his side, and that he was more likable when it came to superficial things.

Later, when it was only ten minutes to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year, Vesperra was the only one who was glad to leave the Great Hall and head up to the second floor. Well, she supposed that Nott was at least a bit glad, but he wouldn't have wanted to show it in front of the rest of the Slytherins, who would automatically hate him for even being friendly towards or agreeing with Vesperra.

She would have shown up in the DADA classroom long before anyone else were it not for her habit of remaining at the back of the group whenever they were walking together—it was her paranoia that kept her from doing otherwise, as she didn't like having her enemies walk behind her. However, because of their tentativeness, they arrived outside the classroom later than normal and had hardly settled down in their seats when Moody came _clunk_ing down the corridor and into the classroom.

As he walked inside, he swept his normal eye over all of them while his magical eye did the same—only faster, multiple times, and most likely seeing what the normal one couldn't. The hand that wasn't holding his walking stick (which rather looked like a twisted branch) slammed the door behind him, creating a small gust of wind that made his grizzled mane look even more unkempt for a moment. Vesperra couldn't tell what his expression was, because his face was so scarred and so unlike any other human face that the muscles themselves were twisted. A clawed foot at the base of his wooden leg protruded from underneath his robes, making him look even more sinister and at the same time—there was no other word for it—awesome.

"You won't need your books," growled Moody as he stumped over to his desk, for some of the Slytherins, including Vesperra, had started to take out their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. She was reminded of last year, but somehow had a feeling that this wouldn't turn out to be nearly as bad as Lupin's first lesson.

He took out a register and began to call out names, which looked odd, considering his appearance. Moody just didn't seem like the sort of man to do anything formal—or normal, for that matter. When he came upon "Malfoy, Draco," the boy in question inhaled sharply and was hesitant to answer. Moody's magical eye was fixated longer on him than it was on anyone else.

After Blaise Zabini had declared himself present, Moody rolled up the list of names haphazardly and stuffed it back into his desk.

"Right then," he said, "I've heard from Professor Lupin that you lot have got a pretty thorough understanding about tackling Dark creatures—boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, grindylows, hinkypunks, werewolves—correct me if I'm wrong…." No one did, so he continued. "Good. But you lot have also yet to learn about curses—and I mean major curses. I can tell a lot of you must already know some relatively powerful ones, though, judging by what Mr. Malfoy used on Potter yesterday, and the fact that a lot of your parents are former Death Eaters."

Malfoy squirmed uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of him, and many of the others did the same at the mention of their parents. Moody's voice had briefly become more gravelly at the word _former_, making it seem to Vesperra as though he didn't quite believe they had fully renounced their position as a Death Eater. And she wasn't sure, but he might just have shown his mistrust—if not actual dislike—for Slytherins in general. It worried her.

_Dammit, is he going to just single us out for having more potential to turn out to be Dark wizards?_ thought Vesperra. It wasn't unlikely, considering how paranoid Moody was and how much he hated Dark magic.

"Still, I've got to teach you all what you don't know—and instead of how to do it, how to defend yourself against it," continued Moody, not acknowledging the general discomfort of the class. "You've got to know how to deal with the worst of the worst—and the Ministry says you're too young to see the curses themselves instead of just the countercurses, but I say—and Dumbledore agrees with me—to hell with the Ministry. You've got to know exactly _what_ some of those curses can do, and not knowing can cost you. The younger you are, the more easily corrupted you are, and seeing the horrible truth will both keep you informed and keep you from going down that path. You can't defend yourself against something you've never seen, and you can't decide for yourself which side to take without seeing it for yourself."

Vesperra could practically hear the thoughts of her fellow Slytherins: _Oh, so now he's preaching to us? I doubt he's given this speech to any of the other Houses, it's only the Slytherins he's worried about, because he thinks we're gonna go off and be like our parents—so what if we are? Dark magic's much more fun than this defense rubbish…._

"Now...," Moody said, beginning to pace slowly in front of the class and not looking directly at them (not with his normal eye, at least), "I'd wager that most of you lot know there are three curses that are most heavily punished by Wizarding law. Misters Crabbe and Goyle, there will be no eating in my classroom."

A couple people gasped in surprise, as they had had their snacks beneath the table and out of sight. Shaking slightly, their faces increasing in color, Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their meaty hands and whatever they were eating inside their pockets. Moody continued as though nothing had happened.

"Can any of you tell me which curses are the most illegal—the worst of the worst?" he asked them.

Nobody seemed to want to answer at first, but then a few people raised their hands—though tentatively. And to everyone's surprise including her own, Vesperra was the first.

Raising both eyebrows (he would have been surprised as well, since it wasn't exactly difficult to judge by Vesperra's demeanor that she wouldn't normally offer information in class voluntarily), Moody stopped pacing and pointed at Vesperra. "Miss… ah—D'Monicas?"

Aware that everyone was staring at her, she inhaled and said, as calmly as she could, "The Cruciatus Curse."

His magical eye remained fixed on her for a moment that felt like forever, and then he grimaced. Vesperra tried to avoid it, suddenly liking him considerably less for no apparent reason—or perhaps she just felt uncomfortable.

"Yes, the Cruciatus Curse…," he said, nodding in confirmation and moving toward his desk. "Probably the cruelest curse ever invented. I'm not even going to ask how you know about it—though it could just as easily have been from a book. You look like a reader."

Merlin, could he have known? Could he have read it in the slight twitch of Vesperra's hand, or the stiffness in her shoulders—or by something else—the reason that she knew about that curse?

The others who had been staring at her looked away, nodding to themselves and probably assuming that Moody's guess was true. They instead moved their gaze to Moody himself, who was pulling a jar of spiders out of his desk drawer. A couple of the other girls (mostly Pansy) cringed at the sight of them.

Professor Moody opened the jar and reached inside, catching one of the spiders and taking it out. He pointed his wand at it, saying "_Engorgio!_"—and it suddenly swelled to over three times larger, bigger than a tarantula.

"This," he said, lowering the motionless (but clearly alive, simply frightened) spider onto his desk and still pointing his wand at it, "is the Cruciatus Curse. _Crucio!_"

Vesperra had expected it; she wasn't sure about the others, though. The spider's legs bent in upon its body at once, and it rolled over, beginning to twitch horribly. It could make no noise to express its obvious pain, reminding Vesperra of herself as a first year, silenced by a spell so that it was impossible for her to scream, but still feeling the pain…. And for one wild moment, she _was_ the spider, being tortured to the point where she wanted to die, and jerking violently the longer Moody kept his wand pointed at her—no, _it_….

Finally, he raised his wand, taking the curse off of the spider. Vesperra wasn't sure whether it had been because Moody had felt they'd seen enough, or because he'd noticed her—her face had gone whiter than normal and, though she tried her hardest not to, she was twitching at random intervals. She found that she didn't care so much if Moody had noticed than if the other Slytherins had.

"Pain," he said softly after returning the spider to its normal size and putting it back in the jar. "The Cruciatus Curse causes the most pain one could ever imagine. It's impossible to imagine it unless you've experienced it, and it's almost impossible to get over it _once _you've experienced it. And it's not _only_ physical: the after-effects can include insanity—if it's on too long, and being traumatized…. That curse was very popular at one time. Mainly used to torture information out of people—and only the extremely strong-willed can resist it."

Once again, his magical eye rolled straight over to her, and Vesperra was convinced that he must have known. She wouldn't consider herself traumatized, but being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse was definitely something she would never forget.

"So," said Moody, now with a somewhat different tone, "anyone know any others?"

Glancing around, Vesperra noticed that most of the others looked very apprehensive about answering. Some of them wore hardened expressions, but it was clear that they were hiding their nervousness. Malfoy's face told her that he was sure not to raise his hand anytime soon (or in any Defense lesson, _ever_, for that matter).

Slowly, another hand rose into the air—and this time it was Daphne's. Without turning towards her, Moody said, "Yes, Miss Greengrass?"

"The—er… Imperius Curse, sir?" she said quietly, her voice cracking.

Immediately, Moody reached for the glass jar again. "Ah, yes, that one was quite famous, too. Here, I'll just show you what that one can do…." He grabbed another spider and, without enlarging it this time, pointed his wand at it and said, "_Imperio!_"

The spider immediately leapt from his hand on a fine thread of silk and swung back and forth on it, then launched itself from that with a backflip and landing on the edge of his desk. It scuttled to the corner and did a backflip that should have been impossible for something that small, then did several cartwheels around the cluttered papers.

Much of the class was sniggering, even Pansy, all fears of spiders forgotten. Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing, and Malfoy gave a hesitant giggle. Vesperra, Blaise, and Nott seemed to be the few that didn't find it entertaining—along with Moody.

"Think that's hilarious, do you?" he growled, clearly angry. "Would it be funnier if I made it jump right into the fire?"—he jerked his wand, making the spider leap to the wall, near one of the torches that was used to keep the room lit—"Drown itself? Jump"—he jerked his wand again, and the spider made another leap to the adjacent wall.—"out the window? I bet it would be even more hilarious if I put the curse on one of you."

The sniggering stopped, and Moody adopted a grave look. With one final wave of his wand, the spider was in his hand again and scurrying back into the jar.

"Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble years ago, the Imperius Curse did. People said that it was the only reason they'd done You-Know-Who's bidding—and for a lot of them, it was. More people were under control of it than you'd like to think. The only problem was, it wasn't too easy to figure out who really was under control, and who was lying to keep themselves out of Azkaban. Now, like the Cruciatus, the Imperius Curse _can_ be fought—and more effectively, too. Although, it'd be better just to avoid getting hit with it in the first place. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, causing everyone to jump in their seats. But they couldn't really be all that surprised.

"One more," said Moody. "Who knows it?"

So far, Vesperra noticed that her classmates were growing to dislike Moody more and more. And to be honest, she liked him less as well—though she wasn't quite afraid of him like some of the others seemed. This time, it took another minute for anyone to raise their hand, and when someone did, it was Theodore Nott. Moody pointed at him, already removing the last, struggling, spider from the jar.

"The—the Killing Curse," said Nott, getting a strange, glossy look in his eyes. Vesperra wondered if this was similar to her situation with the Cruciatus Curse, and looked uneasily at him. Several others did the same.

"The Killing Curse," Moody repeated, nodding gravely, though with a slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "The worst, by popular opinion, but hardly the cruelest. Dying would be preferable to being tortured with the Cruciatus—but that's just what I think."

When he placed the last spider on the wooden desktop, it began to scuttle frantically away, obviously aware of what was about to happen to it. Moody raised his wand for a third time, and Vesperra watched, her expression as stony as her heart. Strangely, she felt no pity for this spider—either because it wasn't the Killing Curse that she'd experienced before, or because it was only a spider. Still, she felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

With Moody's roar came a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, and the spider rolled over instantaneously, dead.

* * *

**In case you're wondering, I ended the chapter in the middle of the lesson because GoF is a much darker book in contrast to the first three, and I wanted to establish a consistent dark mood by ending the chapter on a death (even if it's only a spider). **

**On another note, I had so much bloody fun writing the ferret scene. Malfoy's such a little shit... he deserved it.**

**Anyway, PLEASE review-last time it was only two. I mean, come ON. Where did you guys goooooooo? :(**


	51. Book 4: Chapter 5

**I've gotten up to 170 reviews! :D Also, I've written a one-shot about the Bloody Baron and Helena Ravenclaw, and it doesn't have any reviews, so it would be awesome if you guys could read it. I hope you guys like this chapter!**

* * *

The green light wasn't exactly blinding, but for a moment it was all Vesperra could see. Though it had only been a spider that had died right before her eyes, an insignificant little arthropod with an inferior mind and inferior feelings—if it had had any feelings at all, she felt something drop in her chest at the sight of it.

But it wasn't pity. It wasn't even in a bad sense—it was just heavy. There were no marks on the spider from where she could see, and she guessed that, if she were to cut open and examine it, she would find no evidence of the spider's cause of death. Her mind was in a whirl, trying to figure it out… what, _exactly_, did the Killing Curse do? Did it stop the victim's heart, sever the connection of its brain from the rest of its body, render them suddenly incapable of breathing… what?

Vesperra knew it couldn't have been any of those things, because those would all leave a victim a minute or so to live—and she would know that, as she'd thought about this quite a lot. Having an enemy like Malfoy left you a lot of time to plan their death, if only in a hypothetical sense. But no, the Killing Curse wouldn't have done any of those things—it had to be much more than that. If she had to guess, she would say that it would kill you on a higher level of being; it forced your soul to part with its body, despite it not being ready to do so.

And if she was right, didn't that, in itself, prove the existence of an afterlife, of a higher power?

These theories were swimming amongst extreme fascination and interest that she couldn't help. She wondered if there were people that studied the fundamental properties of spells like this… and she felt a strange surge of power. Well, potential power. Knowing this spell, a spell that could _kill_, would be like having ultimate power. Then again, Vesperra was prone to losing control over her temper, and knowing how to use the Killing Curse could be extremely dangerous were she to find herself in a situation where it was impossible to stay calm.

Everybody was silent, staring at the spider. Not that many people seemed to have reacted other than their expressions hardening or, like Vesperra's, loosening in awe, but Malfoy had flinched in his seat. Moody, his face twisted and scarred and yet rather calm, reached nonchalantly for his hip flask, took a drink of whatever was in it, and then brushed the spider onto the floor.

"The Killing Curse," he said, gesturing lightly as he started pacing again. Vesperra thought she heard the crunch of his boot landing on the spider. "It's deadly to anything, not just spiders. It's anything but pleasant, and there's no countercurse, no blocking it. There has, of course, been one case of someone surviving it—and you all know him as Harry Potter. But no one has any idea how or why, so it's safe to say that it won't fail to work should any of you lot be hit by it."

He paused, taking that moment to let his magical eye survey the class again. Vesperra figured that he must have been taking in the reactions of each of the students and gauging how desensitized he had to make them to this sort of thing. Because that, she was sure, was partly his goal in teaching them about these curses. Moody understood that dark times were ahead not too far in the future, probably because of Dumbledore confiding in him, and he would have wanted them to be as ready to defend themselves as possible. And they couldn't properly defend themselves if they were squeamish about death and torture.

"Now," he continued gruffly, tapping his walking stick on the ground, "_Avada Kedavra_ can't be performed by just anyone. It needs a bit of powerful magic behind it. I doubt that it would work even with the combined efforts of all of you—but that doesn't matter, because I'm here to teach you _defense_, not how to use the curses."

At this, Vesperra couldn't help but feel a pang of—frustration, anger, disappointment?—the feeling that she had just been given a challenge. She didn't plan on trying it out on anyone, but this sort of thing always happened when she, even if it was addressed to a larger group than just herself, was told that she likely wouldn't be able to do something.

"The thing is, though, you _can't _defend yourself against the Killing Curse," said Moody, turning to face them and arching his neck dramatically. "But _you've still got to know_, and you've got to see the worst there is. Even if you can't defend yourself, you can still know how to make sure you don't end up in a situation where you have to defend yourself. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, making a few people jump again. But a lot of others, like Vesperra, had found it less surprising the second time.

"Alright, then. Those three curses—the Killing Curse, Imperius, and Cruciatus—are called the Unforgivable Curses. And they are so named because the majority of the Wizarding World considers them _unforgivable_—the use of any one of them on a human without lawful justification will earn you a life sentence in Azkaban." Moody's blue eye, which had been slowly roving in its socket, lingered on Vesperra for a second too long. She frowned, both curious and a bit put off by him.

Moody gave them a few more words of wisdom (or paranoia, depending on how you saw it) before telling them to take out their quills and parchment so they could take notes. They still weren't using the book; instead he told them exactly what he knew about each of the Unforgivable Curses. Vesperra had to admit that taking notes with Professor Moody was much more entertaining than doing so in most of her other classes, because of the man's dramatic pauses and gestures and occasional shouts of "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

No one spoke until the bell rang and Moody dismissed them, at which all the Slytherins were talking in hushed voices about the curses he had shown them. Nervous as he had been to be near Moody, even Malfoy seemed considerably awed about them.

"Now I'm wishing more than ever that my father had sent me to Durmstrang," he had muttered as they made their way downstairs. (_So am I,_ thought Vesperra, having been about to say it out loud but then thinking better of it.) "Then I'd have been learning how to _do_ the Unforgivables. Do you guys realize how useful those would be?"

Malfoy seemed expectant of Pansy to say something, as she was usually hanging onto his every word and shrieking with laughter the moment she got the chance, but she actually looked rather hurt. He didn't seem to realize the mistake in what he'd said (if Vesperra was correct in guessing that he and Pansy were officially dating) or that his girlfriend was hurt at all. Tracy, who was second to Pansy in her level of arrogance and cruelty, spoke up, though.

"Of course," she said, "torturing Grease-perra in more refined ways… torturing information out of her when she won't tell. You'd have her twitching on the ground like that spider…."

It appeared that no one else had a problem with discussing the Cruciatus Curse so lightly, either, by the sound of the ensuing conversation. As awed Vesperra was at the Killing Curse, she didn't find the rest of it very entertaining like some of them had. At the mention of herself being tortured, she gave an involuntary shudder, and her muscles seized up again. She remembered that Moody had seemed to know, and was suddenly glad that he hadn't decided to stop her on her way out and mention it.

"But of course," drawled Malfoy in a dismissive tone, "if I had gone to Durmstrang, I would never have known Grease-perra, so I wouldn't have had a chance to use _Crucio_ or _Imperio_ on her anyway."

At this point, Vesperra was putting forth all her effort not to appear as though her brain was recalling traumatizing memories at their words, however hollow they were. It all ended up as her usual scowl and flexing of her fingers, and she was silent the entire way to History of Magic.

An hour later, the third year Slytherins all snapped out of their stupor (and some, waking up from their naps) caused by Professor Binns's insufferable droning and headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. Vesperra ate hers quickly and went to the library for the hour-long break. There wasn't very much homework to be done just yet, but Binns had assigned them an essay and she wanted to get it over with.

She didn't expect to come across any of the others in her year and House in the library, since most people but her were generally not as responsible when it came to homework and would usually want to procrastinate it until a few days before it was due. And she certainly didn't expect to hear a familiar voice behind her while running her fingers along the spines of books in the Giants section, but it happened.

"Hey, Vesperra."

Vesperra swiveled around to see Theodore Nott standing casually behind her, and she was relieved that it hadn't been Malfoy or Pansy or anyone else who had found her. He had called her by her first name a few times before, but it still felt odd to hear it when she only referred to him as 'Nott,' both in her head and the couple times she'd mentioned him in a conversation with Severus.

"Hi," she said a bit warily, keeping her voice low. "Why were you looking for me?"

Nott pursed his lips in a slightly confused expression, shuffling his feet. "Who said I was looking for you?"

"You don't have your bag with you, so you've left it in your dorm. You're not here to do homework, and you didn't happen upon me by accident," said Vesperra with a tone that implied it should have been obvious. And really, it should have been.

He sighed. "Alright, I was looking for you. I… wanted to know if you were okay. You know, after Moody's lesson…."

_Dammit, he noticed._ "Of course I'm okay," she said calmly, though with a slight edge to her voice, making her sound ruder than she meant to. And she did intend to sound a bit rude, so that was saying something. "Why would I not be?" Vesperra returned her gaze to the bookshelf and pulled _The Giant Warring Period_ out.

"I—well, I noticed that you were going all white and shaking a bit during the—the Cruciatus bit," said Nott. She couldn't see his face at the angle her head was turned, especially not with her hair falling beside her face like a curtain that both kept her hidden from the rest of the world, and kept the rest of the world but for what she chose to see hidden from her—but she was sure it was sympathetic. "You've never… _you've never been tortured with that, have you_?"

Nott's voice had dropped to a very low whisper at that—not because Madam Pince was nearby, but because he had clearly been afraid to ask her. Or perhaps he truly felt sorry for her—or maybe he was just trying to _appear_ sorry for her.

"I don't think that's any of your business," said Vesperra evenly, still not looking at him. But she was aware that she might as well have told him, because it was now obvious that she _had_ been Crucio'd before. Still, considering how Nott generally acted around her, she figured that he would respect the fact that she didn't want to talk about it and leave.

He didn't.

Instead, he remained where he stood with, as Vesperra saw when she turned her head very slightly, an expression of horror. And sympathy, which put her off. She didn't want sympathy.

"_Merlin,_" he whispered so softly that Vesperra only knew what he said because she could read his lips. "I—I know it's not my business, and I'm sorry, but… when? And _why_?"

She noticed that he hadn't asked _who_, and so she said, "It wasn't my parents, if that's what you're thinking. So you don't need to feel pity over some domestic violence, because it wasn't that at all." That was all she planned on telling him, and she closed the book she was holding with a _snap_, causing a cloud of dust to hover in front of her face. Vesperra began to walk away to find a table, but then she remembered how Nott had reacted during the demonstration of the Killing Curse.

At once, she stopped and turned to face a still horrified Nott again. _Damn my curiosity…._ "Wait a minute—what about _you_?" she asked, her eyes narrowing and her voice biting at the air, however quiet it was. That was just what her voice tended to do. "I noticed that you looked the same way with the Killing Curse."

Vesperra didn't realize that the way she said that might have been a tad insensitive. She did, however, realize that it would have been unfair for her to ask him to tell her his secret without revealing much of hers. But, being the generally heartless person (except when it came to Severus) she was, she wasn't going to say anything unless he asked again.

Nott was looking a bit shocked that she had asked (or possibly from the manner in which she had asked), and hesitated to answer. Finally, however, he inhaled deeply and looked down. "I saw someone being killed with—with that curse," he said, sounding reluctant to be telling her this. Vesperra had already guessed that much, though. "It… it was my mum."

Even someone like Vesperra couldn't help but be taken aback at hearing something like that. Her eyes widened as though by theirselves, her mouth dropped open slightly, her brow furrowed, her expression locked, and her breath hitched. She didn't respond for a moment, as she had no idea what to say. But then, so quietly that she might have been mouthing it—"Who…?"

He hesitated again. "My father." Vesperra inhaled sharply, and her expression hardened. Nott moved his gaze upward and looked straight at her, but remained silent.

"Your… your father killed your mum right in front of you?" said Vesperra in disbelief. She had, in the past, speculated about whether her mum would eventually kill her father in a fight (or, by a low possibility, the other way around), but the reality of it—even for someone else—was horrifying.

"When I was five," said Nott, coughing (likely to hide a sudden lump in his throat—at that thought, Vesperra was a bit uncomfortable, since she didn't want to deal with him crying). "I'm not sure what actually happened, but they must have been in a fight, and my dad just got too angry—" He stopped himself in the middle of his voice rising in pitch, leading Vesperra to believe that he had originally had more to say. But she didn't mention it.

"I'm… sorry," she said, trying to sound sincere. Vesperra really did feel for him, but probably not as much as she should have. And, having had no practice outside of Severus, she wasn't very good at this sort of thing. Suddenly, though, she was compelled to tell him the rest of her situation, if only to make it even. "I can't really say whether being Crucio'd at only eleven years old is worse."

Nott's arm made an involuntary twitch that would have made it seem, if Vesperra didn't know better, that he was about to hug her. Shifting awkwardly, he said, "I'm sorry too."

Vesperra sighed, now somewhat annoyed. "Alright, alright—we can stop feeling sorry for each other now," she said, throwing her hands up and letting them fall back down in an exasperated gesture. Her face crumpling in discomfort, she glanced behind herself to make sure no one else was around, and then looked back to Nott, who looked amused rather than hurt, as she had expected him to be. "And neither of us are going to mention this to anyone else."

"Oh—of course not," he said quickly, nodding.

"Good," said Vesperra. Her voice reverted to its usual flat, yet somehow cutting, state. "Now, if you don't mind, I have an essay to write."

And with only a sharp jerk of her hand as a goodbye wave, she left him standing by the Giant section of books (which was ironically rather small) and strode off to find an empty table.

* * *

Severus wasn't in a good mood. All through Wednesday, his movements were sharper and jerkier than usual, making it obvious how irritable he was. His head was in constant ache from his constant scowling, and he did nothing to help it—sometimes, and this was one of those times, you're so angry that you just _want_ to be angry. It was somehow satisfying, and it worked to ease whatever inner turmoil was causing you to be angry.

Anyone guessing that the reason for his extra unpleasantness and vindictiveness was Moody would have been right, but not in the way that they'd have thought. Normally, Severus would have been generally miffed at the fact that someone else had been given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job and just sulked around in disappointment for the first week of school. But now, that was hardly part of it; and Severus wasn't _only_ angry about having his office unrightfully searched, either.

To add insult to injury, Moody's teaching methods were worse than he had expected. Vesperra had told him through the journal on Tuesday night about the lesson, and how he had demonstrated the Unforgivable Curses on spiders for them. That fact in itself didn't particularly bother Severus, as he wouldn't have minded that some of the students could have been slightly traumatized (why, _he_ traumatized students on a regular basis), but he cared that it had affected Vesperra.

She of course hadn't _told_ him about her side of the event when the Cruciatus Curse had been performed, but he could tell. Severus didn't need to hear the very slight quiver of her voice as the words of her message were spoken aloud for him to know that seeing the Cruciatus would have been at least mentally, if not physically as well, painful for her. Sure, Vesperra was emotionally strong (however unstable she could be at times), but he knew from experience that the Cruciatus was difficult to deal with. Besides, she had only been _eleven_ when she was tortured with it.

He felt some of the old hatred for Quirrell rise up again, but since that man was dead, it automatically went directed towards Moody. Severus hated him despite the fact that he couldn't have known about Vesperra beforehand; being the protective friend he was, he couldn't help but hate anyone that did anything that would hurt Vesperra, whether it was intentionally or not. The one problem was that he couldn't have Moody suspicious of him, so he couldn't openly display his animosity. And yet, that eye still followed him around whenever he was near the man….

* * *

But even later on Wednesday afternoon, when he had the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins (which included Vesperra), his mood was only slightly lifted. That was partly because Longbottom was proving himself to be more of a dunderhead than ever. At least being cruel to him for it calmed him down a bit.

Vesperra, meanwhile, was in her usual seat at the very front of the dungeon classroom, crushing Chilean springnuts in her hand so she could get the innerts out. She had to be quick to capture the inside bits in her hand, because they were bouncing around uncontrollably and would continue to do so all around the room if they weren't cut quickly.

A few tables behind her, Neville Longbottom was having a lot of trouble making sure his springnuts didn't escape, and she could tell with a single glance back there that there were loads of them bouncing around on the floor, which he was struggling to pick up. So far, he had managed to close his chubby fingers around a few of them and chuck them into his cauldron—but as those hadn't been cut, they added much more acidity to the Draught of Insomnia that they were supposed to brew, thus melting his cauldron and rendering it useless. Severus noticed this and was over there in a flash.

Oftentimes he would have been in some way pleased to have the chance to insult Longbottom, but the idiot had actually caused a serious situation this time. The moment the smell of acid reached his nose, Severus whipped around from Crabbe and Goyle's atrocious attempt at the potion and strode directly over to Longbottom's table. He had his wand out in seconds and waved it sharply at the mess to vanish the potion, keeping it from melting into the table as it already had with his cauldron.

"In your fourth year and you've already melted six cauldrons…," said Severus icily, scowling down at the boy, who was shaking and was red as Weasley's hair. Some of the redness was burns from where his failed potion had splashed onto him, and the rest of it was obviously sheer embarrassment. He looked like he was ready to cry. "I daresay you'll have broken a record by the end of your fifth year at this rate."

The Slytherins sniggered appreciatively at this treatment of Longbottom, and all the Gryffindors were throwing him dirty, hateful looks. Severus was too angry to deal with any of them at the moment.

"Really, Longbottom," continued Severus in a near hiss when the boy only whimpered in response, "your lack of knowledge and common sense was expected, but to have just as little physical dexterity…. I can't even imagine what it must be like with a mind as abysmally small and useless as yours—to not be able to attend to the simplest of matters without ruining everything. It would have been so simple to keep from dropping the springnuts if you'd just _thought_…." As he spoke, he leaned down farther and farther over the table, and the glint of controlled fury in his eyes grew larger, as did the look of fear in Longbottom's. "You will clean this mess up, Longbottom, and you will return to this classroom directly after dinner for detention with me."

With those words, Severus quickly drew himself upward and stalked away to continue surveying the others' cauldrons, looking very much like a bat as he often did, and even feeling like one with the short air current that his billowing robes made behind him.

Vesperra, who had heard everything quite clearly (the dungeon had gone silent during that little scene), smirked to herself and crushed the last of her springnuts. Tilting her head at an angle, she caught a side-glance of Severus striding through the middle aisle of the classroom and was briefly robbed of breath. Strange though it was, she often felt rushes of affection for him when he did things like this.

She then took another quick glance behind her in order to see Longbottom hastily scraping the congealed mess off of his table. It was amusing enough that she'd have liked to just watch him for a few minutes, but her own potion needed her attention.

It was a minute before she realized Severus's intention in deciding Longbottom's detention right then and there rather than having him stay after class for a minute; he didn't want to miss out on a chance to talk to her in person after three days of not having done so. At this thought, she smiled inwardly.

She also knew why he was in such a foul mood, even though he hadn't told her. Vesperra figured she must have been the only person to truly be able to tell why Severus did some of the things he did. However, she felt slightly bad, because even now, she didn't hate Moody as much as he must have. She was a bit glad for his protectiveness, though.

The one thing she hadn't mentioned to him was what Nott had told her, and even though she knew Severus would have no one to tell and it wouldn't really matter, she felt that it was something she should just keep to herself. After all, _she _had been the one to establish that neither of them would say anything… and she was growing to actually like Nott. Definitely not enough to be a friend, but enough that she respected him.

Still fuming, Severus was prowling through the aisles, observing the Gryffindors' work. A biting remark left his lips at each stop where he could find fault, which was at everyone but Granger. When he reached Potter, he didn't hesitate a single second to sneer down at his bubbling cauldron, "Starting off the year lazy, are you, Potter? I do hope you pay more attention in your other classes than you do to your own potion." The boy didn't look up, but Severus could see his eyes, a perfect copy of Lily's, reflecting angrily up at him from the surface of his Draught of Insomnia. At the sight of them, he felt a pang of painful irony at how his anger was because of the man who was supposed to be here to help him _protect_ Lily's son.

In the next moment, Severus swept himself away and made his way to Vesperra's cauldron. His gaze roved over the broken nutshells on her table and into her cauldron as he stood behind her, bending slightly downwards. Apparently sensing his sudden presence, she turned her head a little as she always did; her eyes warmed up in a smile that remained only there, while her lips stayed pursed in concentration.

After a moment, Vesperra returned her focus to dumping cacao powder into her cauldron and acted as though Severus wasn't there. As she did, she leaned just a bit too far over her table and her hair, which was falling in front of her face, went unwittingly into her cauldron—

He had been about to utter the usual "Perfect" when he noticed it, and instead panicked, quickly pushing her hair out of the way and saying, "_Careful,_ Miss D'Monicas!"

Realizing what had almost happened (though it really wouldn't have been that bad, since Severus could have put it right in an instant with a spell), Vesperra was relieved. Scooting a little farther away from her cauldron, she turned slightly to him again and whispered, "Thanks, Professor."

They both sincerely hoped that Malfoy hadn't caught sight of that, as innocent as it was. No one else would have thought that Severus preventing Vesperra's hair from catching on fire or being otherwise affected by her potion meant they had a close relationship, but Malfoy, who had suspected something like that from the start, was different.

Severus walked away, sweeping his eyes over the classroom as he sat down. Longbottom was still cleaning up his mess, and the rest of the class was nearly finished, whether they'd done it correctly or not. He knew for a fact that Crabbe and Goyle's potions were absolutely useless, and that very few people had found this remotely easy—the first lesson of the year usually wasn't. Students had come back after a summer of having nothing to do with potion-making and having seemingly forgotten how to focus on anything.

"You should be finished with this stage by now," said Severus about twelve minutes later, having stood up again. His voice echoed around the dungeon. "Put your cauldrons up at the back table, and they should be ready to continue working on the next time you have this class."

The only sound for the next couple minutes was that of metal lightly clanging together, stools scraping against the floor, tables being scrubbed, and the rush of water from the marble basin in the corner as they washed their hands. Everyone was soon ready to leave, and the bell that dismissed them to dinner rang almost immediately afterward.

Taking her time and trying to appear nonchalant about it, Vesperra fell to the back of the group and remained in the classroom until the heavy door swung shut with a loud click. She turned and walked toward Severus's desk, where he had just sat down, with a soft smirk on her face.

"You should tie your hair back," he said seriously, leaning back in his chair. "At least when you're working on potions. It would be safer."

Her smirk turned into an amused one, and she put one hand on the edge of his desk, leaning onto it. "Do _you_ ever tie your hair back when you're brewing?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact, I did used to, when my hair was longer."

Vesperra's smirk grew softer and, instead of saying anything, she stepped forward and put her hands behind Severus's neck, gently pulling all of his hair back into a single, thick lock so she could see what he would look like with a ponytail. He appeared confused, at first, as to what she was doing, but then relaxed his shoulders and let her.

"Hm. Well, I suppose it's not that bad," said Vesperra. To be honest, the look was good on Severus, and his more exposed neck was rather attractive. But she wouldn't have told him that.

"Go on then," said Severus, exhaling sharply as a short laugh, "pull your hair back for a second so I can see what it looks like."

Sighing, she let go of his hair and obliged, then waited for him to say something.

"I think you look fine," he said without even pausing to consider it. Neither of them cared about their appearances, anyway, so he wasn't going to judge hers. And he truly did think she looked fine. "But I'm used to you with your hair down, so you should keep it like that. It shouldn't matter when you're brewing, though."

"I'll just be careful, then," she said, letting her hair go. She wasn't sure why, but she just _didn't_ want to tie her hair back, whether she would have been safer with it or not. Vesperra then realized—"Dinner'll be starting soon…." Pausing briefly, she quickly scrutinized his face and reached out to feel the side of his head. "You have a headache—you should do something about that before you spend an hour in detention with Longbottom. I'll talk to you later."

With a small shoulder squeeze, Vesperra reluctantly (though necessarily) made to leave; "Later," confirmed Severus before she reached the door.

* * *

Dinner that evening was more accurately defined as an hour of avoiding Moody's eye, as it would continue to be for the days and weeks (and months) to come. When Severus returned to the dungeons afterward, Longbottom was already standing outside of his classroom. The boy's expression became rather frightened when he saw him striding down the corridor, and Severus's lips twitched into an unpleasant smirk. He magically undid the wards on the door and pushed it open without speaking to him, and then walked directly to his desk.

"Sit down, Longbottom," he said before the door even had a chance to close on its own, gesturing to the front table on the left side (he didn't want him sitting where Vesperra normally did), next to which was a large barrel full of dead horned toads. Severus had thought up a punishment just after Vesperra left, and had gotten the barrel out of one of the dungeon storerooms before getting himself a potion for his headache.

Longbottom began walking tentatively to the table, and Severus continued, his voice growing steadily nastier, "You will be disemboweling those horned toads and putting the individual organs and limbs into separate jars—only the brains, hearts, eyes, livers, and legs. I saw no need to prepare everything for you, so you can label the jars on your own. And you better not mix different organs together, Longbottom, or I'll have another barrel of Egyptian scorpions for you as well."

Nodding frantically, the boy looked around and started to label jars. Severus sat at his chair, watching Longbottom cringe every time he cut open one of the horned toads and struggle to both identify the organs and keep them intact. The fear on his face was extremely obvious—he wouldn't dare ask Severus which were which, but he would have wanted nothing less than to make a mistake, though he was most likely to make plenty.

It was quite an entertaining evening, especially with every sneer and snarky comment Severus made throughout the detention, making Longbottom tremble even more. By the time he had finished and was allowed to leave, he was in a state of nervous collapse and practically fell down on his way out the door. All in all, it had been satisfying and helpful in curbing his anger towards Moody, and was so far his second best tactic for doing so. The only sure-fire way of calming himself down was talking to Vesperra, his only friend in all of this mess—even though it wasn't quite a mess yet.

The rest of that week's lessons passed without great incident on either Vesperra or Severus's part, and they were both glad to see the weekend. While most students were lazing about in their common rooms or doing the homework that they'd been assigned during the week, Vesperra, who had already finished all of it, was spending her Saturday in Severus's office. He had a bit of grading left to do, but he planned on doing that on Sunday.

"It feels weird, being back in here," said Vesperra a minute after sitting down on his couch. "I mean, it's been a few months…. But by the time I leave Hogwarts, I'll probably have spent a good portion of my life in your office. At least a tenth, I think."

"And ironically, none of it will have been for detention," said Severus, looking over at her. Vesperra had sat down on the other end of the couch and had turned so that she was sitting long-ways, her feet in his lap. "You know, you're eventually going to be too big to sit like that on this couch—too tall, I mean."

"How do you know I won't stop growing soon?" Her lips twitched into a slight smirk and she shifted in her seat, crossing one foot over the other.

"Your father's rather tall. And you're going through sort of a growth spurt, so I think you'll end up a bit taller than average. Probably half a head shorter than me." And something in her bone structure just gave him the feeling that she was going to end up at that height.

"Hm. Well, at this rate, then, I'm only going to look even more disproportionately thin, since I doubt I'll get any thicker." Unconsciously, she felt around her lower waist, where her hip bones were a little prominent. Severus frowned slightly.

"I was the same build as a teenager—only more masculine, obviously. A lot of people go through the awkward lean phase as teenagers… but I never grew out of it."

"It's not awkward," Vesperra said a bit too quickly, and Severus gave her a strange look. Feeling blood starting to rise to her face, she went on, "I mean, I consider it a good thing, really. I can't imagine you looking any different—and besides, we can both eat anything we want and never gain any weight."

This was another one of those moments where it was obvious Vesperra meant she thought he was physically attractive, and Severus just couldn't understand why. Not wanting to make things more awkward, both of them made a mutual, silent decision to change the subject.

"So, er—do you want to do something?" said Vesperra, leaning further back into the arm of the couch and staring at the ceiling for no reason in particular.

"What, just talking to me isn't good enough anymore?" Severus said jokingly, his left hand unconsciously coming to rest on her ankles.

"What?—No, of course not, it's fine, I love just talking to you—I just wondered if you'd like to do something else."

He smiled at the sudden alarm in her face, then frowned slightly in consideration of what she'd said. "What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno…." Vesperra put her hands together in thought, which Severus found amusing. "If there wasn't a risk of people seeing, I wouldn't mind taking a walk around the grounds. But the clearing by the lake is definitely out—it's probably still flooded after all that rain. And if it weren't for that damn eye, I'd love to go spy on Moody."

"What?" snapped Severus. "Why?"

"Just curious," she said quietly, half of her mind still thinking about things to do and the other half in the room with Severus. "I'd like to see what a man like him does with his free time…. He probably spends every waking minute trying to figure out who's trying to kill him. And I want to see what he's done with the office this year. Have you been inside it?"

"No, and I don't plan to," he growled. "I'd rather not go near him." Severus didn't mean to sound angry, but it had certainly come out that way. Vesperra noticed it, and looked up at him, her expression almost sad. She decided not to say anything about his disliking towards Moody, as she didn't want him to go into a rant or get angrier.

"I guess I'll never know what's inside his office, then…. What would you do with it, if Dumbledore ever lets you take up the position?"

"It would have to be dark and depressing just like the dungeons, or else I wouldn't feel at home." At that, Vesperra smirked to herself. "But… actually, I think I'd keep this office. It would be too strange to have spent years in here and suddenly switch to a new one. And it's easier for you to come here than it would be for you to take the stairs up to the second floor every Saturday."

Her chest suddenly felt warm with affection for him, and Vesperra decided to sit up straight and turn her legs so that she was sitting normally on the couch, then scooted over to him.

"Where would the new Potions Master go, then?" she wondered aloud, nonchalantly grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers in between his.

"Wherever they want. Likely in the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts office." Inhaling deeply, he was visited by a small thought, and shifted in his seat, looking down at her. "Do you want some tea?"

"Sure," said Vesperra, scooting an inch away to give him room to stand up, and letting go of his hand. "No sugar."

"Of course not." He'd known her for four years; he definitely knew her tea preferences. He usually didn't like sugar in his tea, either, as he usually didn't drink it for the taste, anyway.

Lazily watching him as he walked over to the table in the far corner of the room, where his tea kettle was, Vesperra's eyes drifted down to the dent Severus had made in the couch. It was already fixing itself, the leather becoming its usual shape, and so it must have become like new again after a few months of no one sitting there. And then a thought came to mind.

"Severus, do you ever use this couch when I'm not here?" she asked him, snapping her head back up to him. He half-turned around; he had just tapped the kettle with his wand and caused it to start steaming.

"Hardly," he admitted, only vaguely wondering why she had asked. "I don't relax very much when you're not here. I'm either grading, brewing, or sleeping. Well, brewing does relax me, but in a different way than you do. I can't sit down and talk to a potion."

_You can't hold hands with a potion, either._ "You read, though, don't you?"

"Yes, and that's why I didn't use a definitive. I admit, I used to read much more often before I had someone who I actually wanted to spend my time with above other things." Vesperra couldn't help but like his as-a-matter-of-fact tone as he said that, as though it was of little consequence for him to say he's lonely without her. At least, that's how she interpreted it. In the next minute, Severus had poured the tea and was carrying two cups over to the couch.

But then, suddenly, unexpectedly, and alarmingly, he felt a sharp sting in his left forearm, like someone had just stabbed it very quickly. Identical (though slightly stronger) to the sting he had felt during the summer on that walk through the woods with Vesperra, it was gone as quickly as it had come—but that didn't stop his arm from jerking upward in response just as he was about to sit down. Some of the tea in the cup he was holding in his left hand splashed over the edge and fell into Vesperra's lap. She let out a short gasp as the hot tea made contact with her leg.

"Merlin, Vesperra, I am so sorry—"

"No, it's fine, don't worry—"

Severus had set down the cups of tea with their saucers on the small table beside the couch and taken out his wand, then flicked it at the stain (which was only slightly darker than the fabric) of her robes, drying it at once. Frowning and mentally smacking himself in the face, he sat down beside her and reached for the cups of tea.

"Here," he said, giving her the one that was full and hadn't spilled any. "And sorry, again."

"Thanks," said Vesperra, taking the tea and sipping it. "And again, it's okay. It was an accident." However, though she didn't blame him, she found it a little odd. For a man that always moved so gracefully and precisely, it was strange to see him do something as clumsy as spilling tea. She briefly felt a sort of déjà vu sensation, but she couldn't put it to a particular event in her memory.

Meanwhile, Severus was slowly getting a headache from the worry and dread swimming around in his mind. His Dark Mark had stung a second time, and there was no denying it or shrugging it off as his imagination. It was as though the countdown clock to when he had to tell Vesperra about his past as a Death Eater had been sped forward—like someone had pushed the hour hand several turns around.

And still, he couldn't tell her right now, he just couldn't explain to her half of the reason he didn't like Moody, not when he hadn't even told Dumbledore about the stings yet. He didn't even want to tell Dumbledore yet. Part of him was, once again, telling the rest of him how stupid and cowardly he was being, but he couldn't let that show on his face. He couldn't let Vesperra see it. So he drank his tea and acted as though nothing was wrong.

For the rest of the day, they considered themselves adjusting to life relaxing in Severus's office instead of Spinner's End. Vesperra continued to think up things for them to do, as it would be a shame for them to one day run out of things to talk about and just be sitting on his couch, bored—even though neither of them minded just having each other as company. They were just as content with having a day of just faffing about and doing nothing productive as they would have been with doing something stimulating. As long as she was with Severus, Vesperra could never be compelled to do something dangerous just so that she'd have something to do.

Potion-making, grading papers, Wizard Chess, sorting out ingredients… that was all Vesperra managed to come up with that didn't involve something stupidly dangerous or impossible—and all the others hadn't been serious ideas anyway. For a minute she did think about snogging as a pastime, but there was no way she was going to suggest that, even jokingly.

She and Severus did end up playing a couple rounds of chess, which killed a few hours before they got food from the House Elves in the kitchens instead of going to lunch. Vesperra won both of them, leaving her smirking and proud of herself for the next hour. He also let her help him grade a few of the second years' essays, as he might as well have gotten some extra work done while she was there.

When it was after midnight, Vesperra, whose head was leaning on Severus's chest, was starting to drift into unconsciousness. His robes were becoming her pillow, and his arm, which was wrapped around her waist, was her blanket…. And even though she was still at the point where she was aware of how tired she was and that she was about to pass out, she didn't attempt to keep herself awake or even say anything.

He could feel the pace of her heartbeat grow calm against him—much too calm. Suspecting that she had fallen asleep, he looked down at her.

"Vesperra?"

"Hm?"

"You should get back to your dorm."

"Hmph."

Severus sighed, the beginnings of frustration forming in him. "Do I need to carry you there?"

Smiling dazedly into his robes, she forced herself to come to just enough consciousness that she could speak normally: "I actually wouldn't mind, but you're not going to do that."

"Alright, you're just being difficult now."

"Glad you noticed."

"I _could_ carry you as far as the Common Room entrance, you know. And then you'd have to walk the rest of the way by yourself. Or… I could tickle you until you're wide awake."

Her muscles stiffened, and she opened her eyes halfway, having been forced further into consciousness merely by his threat. "You wouldn't dare."

Honestly, he wouldn't. Severus was pretty sure that he would end up being accidentally kicked in the face if he were to attempt to tickle her. Feeling that this argument would go nowhere, he instead started to stand up, pulling her to her feet with him. She considered letting her whole body go limp and staying on the couch, but that just felt too childish—more than she was being at the moment, at least (but she was calling it 'persistence'). And she wouldn't have been able to, anyway, because he had a pretty firm grip on her waist.

"Come on, Vesperra, you don't want Malfoy and the others asking you questions tomorrow," said Severus firmly, standing her straight and flattening her hair down with his hand where it had gone a bit astray from leaning against the couch.

She groaned inwardly, knowing that she had to leave—but it was always difficult to leave after spending a day with Severus. "_Fine,_" she said, wrapping her arms around him for a tight hug. "G'Night."

"Night," he said, hugging her back for a second before directing her towards the door. "Now go get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Vesperra made towards the door, and paused once she was in the threshold. "Tomorrow," she repeated.

* * *

September seemed to slip by smoothly, and Vesperra hardly noticed the days merge into October. The daily routines were, for the most part, monotonous; the fourth years' homework load was increasing, though. Malfoy continued to be the subject of many taunts involving Moody, but Vesperra had actually gotten bored of it. She, unlike others, couldn't be entertained by the same joke for long, even if it was about someone she loathed more than anything.

Vesperra had so far threatened Malfoy with her boa, Artemis, only thrice more, and all of those times were mostly subtext—at least she had gotten the point across. The taunting and tormenting of her that the other Slytherins did for fun (as well as students from other Houses) was by no means reduced in level of harshness, but she noticed that the consistency was somewhat less often than the previous years. Perhaps it was because she was growing to be more intimidating along with physically maturing, or perhaps it was because people were focusing more on teasing Malfoy for his new insecurities (and in most of the Slytherins' case, defending him), or perhaps even that the upcoming Triwizard Tournament had given them better things to think about; either way, she was glad. She knew that she would never be liked or even generally left alone, but any improvement was a big one, even if it would only be temporary.

Her anger and frustration had only come close to spilling over the edge a couple times, and both of those times were when Malfoy and the others had spent an entire Sunday morning breakfast theorizing about why they didn't see her around at all on the Saturday before. Naturally, a good lot of their theories were close, since they obviously weren't serious—though Malfoy might have been, because he had never been fully convinced that Vesperra didn't have a remotely close relationship with Severus.

As for the actual feeding of Artemis (who had an unfortunately non-Malfoy diet), Vesperra managed to get a few live rats from Severus, who had gotten them from Hagrid, saying that he needed them for an experiment. It would have been just as easy to go directly to Hagrid during a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, as the man was nice to nearly everyone almost on principle and wouldn't have minded, but she disliked him more and more as the weeks went on and would have hated to speak directly to him.

Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts had grown quite a lot over the course of only a little over a month, and they were each now about the size of a small dog. And still, no one had yet discovered what they ate. Every Care of Magical Creatures lesson had been spent trying out new foods for them, which had so far included several different types of root, raw chicken meat (along with other parts of it), tarantulas, Doxy eggs, eel, and dragon meat. Vesperra was still one of the few Slytherins to be participating at all, and she had left many of the lessons smelling a foul mix of several things.

She wondered if the Blast-Ended Skrewts had been eating each other (as there were so many that they wouldn't have been able to tell), or if they didn't need food at all. Perhaps they could produce their own food like plants, or could just survive a long time without it, like camels.

Transfiguration had definitely had a noticeable increase in difficulty; they (or at least some of them) had advanced to turning a hedgehog into a pincushion. It contributed to about half of the fourth years' workload, as they had essays to write on the differences between transfiguring different mammals, practice the spells they hadn't mastered yet (which was hardly anything for Vesperra, as she never took long to get the hang of anything), and read up on Switching Spells, which they were to start in about a week.

Ancient Runes was also proving to be more complex, even to the point where Nott came to Vesperra during break while she was in the library, asking for help on translations and such. At those times, she would sigh, annoyed, and reluctantly give him a small bit of advice before refusing to help him anymore and shooing him away so she could focus on her own work.

And, of course, History of Magic was duller than ever. Vesperra was sure that everyone must have been putting off their essays on goblin rebellions to be the last thing they did, and she would have done that as well if she wasn't the sort of person that planned ahead. Laziness stemmed off of itself, so she knew that it would be best to do Professor Binns's homework first and get it done with.

As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the next couple lessons were continuing off of the last with more notes on the Unforgivable Curses. Vesperra rather liked the lessons, if only to be able to see the state Malfoy was in every time he left Moody's classroom, nervous and not at all like his usual, arrogant self. But she was both surprised and feeling extreme dread at the beginning of their Tuesday lesson about halfway through October.

"Alright," said Moody as he stepped into the classroom, "now that you lot have got a good understanding of the Unforgivables, I'll be putting the Imperius Curse on each of you to see how well you can resist it."

"_What?_" said several people at once, including Pansy, Tracey, Malfoy, and Nott. They had all suddenly bent over their desks, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open. All fear of Moody seemed to have disappeared with this surprise. Even Vesperra had stopped dead, unblinking and her heart having stopped beating. _What?_

"You heard what I said. Now, everybody up and out of their seats." Moody jabbed his gnarled thumb upward, but the room remained silent for another few seconds. Everyone stayed seated, still shocked at the announcement. Vesperra couldn't believe that he was serious, and severely wished that he wasn't. She hated the idea of being under anyone's control.

But Moody's blue eye was flitting around, looking between them and fixing itself on each of them for a second or so, and finally the Slytherins cracked. Tentatively, they stood up from their seats and pushed their chairs in. Hardly seconds after they had all stood up, Moody cleared all the desks away with a single sweep of his wand, making them line themselves up at the edges of the room and leaving a large clear space in the middle. As most of the class looked around uncertainly, Vesperra could have sworn she heard Moody growl "Cowards…" under his breath.

"Dumbledore and I both think that you should all know what it feels like," he explained, apparently taking everyone's nervousness as a question as to why in the hell they were doing this, especially when it was illegal. "If you know that, you've got a better chance of realizing when the Imperius Curse is on you and being able to resist it—CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Only one or two people jumped this time, as this had quickly become well-known as Moody's catchphrase.

Although, Vesperra (and, as it seemed, many others as well) found it very hard to believe that Dumbledore would allow this. As annoying and interfering (and sometimes not interfering enough) the Headmaster had proven to be during the past few years, he had always come across as the sort of man who—well, who wouldn't do this sort of thing. Whether it would be very helpful in the future or not, she wanted nothing less at the moment than to be put under the Imperius Curse. She trusted people possibly just as little as Moody did, so despite him being an ex-Auror and having already earned her respect, Vesperra didn't trust him to control her to do anything. Severus was the only person she would ever trust with that power.

"Miss Parkinson," said Moody, "you first."

In any other situation, Vesperra would have been amused to see such an expression on Pansy's face; but not now, when the same thing was going to happen to her. With a look of controlled anxiety, the pug-nosed girl went to stand in the middle of the class, and Moody put the Imperius Curse on her.

Almost instantly, she donned a dazed smile and began doing cartwheels around the room. Some of the others seemed to be trying hard not to laugh, and others were just trying to stay out of the way so she didn't crash into any of them. Pansy only came to her senses and stopped when the curse was lifted, at which she looked rather humiliated and walked quickly, her head down, back to her friends.

Professor Moody beckoned each of them, one by one, into the center of the classroom. No one, luckily (for Vesperra, anyway) was made to do anything particularly painful, but much of it was just plain humiliating. He had Malfoy do impressions of several of the teachers at Hogwarts (including Moody himself and Severus), Daphne pretended to be a cat, stretching and jumping in ways she never could have done normally, and Crabbe began rolling around on the floor. Vesperra guessed that it was all Moody could think of for someone of his weight to do.

Each time, she noticed that the eyes of the person who was under the curse were misted over, and they never showed any sign of flickering back into reality. And each time, the person was left scowling and red-faced. No one seemed to be able to resist the effects, and with each person, Vesperra grew steadily more worried. She hated to think of what Moody might make her do, and so she decided that she would not, _could_ not let him control her. She simply wouldn't allow it. So, she spent the time before she was called up trying to harden her mind, focusing on keeping control over it.

"Miss D'Monicas, let's see you at it," growled Moody when Blaise had finished juggling the various jars on the teacher's desk and walked silently back to the edge of the room with Nott, who hadn't gone yet.

Trying not to look at any of the others (as she was sure they were all staring at her, smirking and looking forward to seeing her doing something degrading), she stepped forward, her face set. She wouldn't have been able to say whether she had been more apprehensive about facing a boggart the year before, especially since her mind was on other things: she was straining to focus on keeping her mind in her own control. Her brow was deeply furrowed, and the rest of her facial muscles were stiff as she awaited the raise of Moody's wand.

"_Imperio!_"

Vesperra felt it: the gentle sweep of every thought and worry from her mind—or at least, an attempt to do so, because she had been ready. It was as though some outside force had tried to wipe her brain clean, but she had become her own force and stopped it, so it had only gotten a layer away. The rest of it was still there—vaguely there, but she could feel it. A few of her cognitive abilities were impaired, like she was slightly drunk, except that wasn't quite an accurate explanation for it. But there really wasn't a completely accurate explanation for the sensation.

She was trapped inside her mind, and everything outside of it was alternating between clear and vague, as though her eyes were windows and they had become rather blurry. The inside was a bit fuzzy as well, but Vesperra forced herself to be self-aware, to _feel_ and know what was going on and not to let herself drown.

And she supposed the feeling would have been quite pleasant—to have the burden of thoughts released and not having to feel anything but vague happiness—for anyone else, because she doubted that anyone else had been aware of the fact that they were under a curse that would control them while it was on them. Vesperra didn't think she'd have liked it anyway, though, because she prided herself on her ability to _think_. Having your mind emptied would have seemed like a relief in theory, but now that Moody was trying to do it to her, she found that it was possibly the worst feeling there was. Even with all the worries and pain and emotions involved, having her mind full would have been very much preferable. She couldn't stand this.

A floating sensation quickly took hold of her, no matter how hard she tried to keep her metaphorical feet on the ground, and she heard Moody's low, gravelly voice, echoing in her mind: _Go and dance with Nott… just stride across the room and—_

_**No,**_ she mentally told the voice, remaining where she was. Had her mind been completely emptied by the Imperius Curse, Moody's command would have substituted as a thought of her own and therefore forced her to do it (and she was glad she could fully understand this), but her mind was _not_ an empty cave. There were still things cluttering it, and she was aware enough of reality that she could sort of distinguish Moody's voice from her own.

_Dance with him,_ persisted the voice, _walk over there and grab his hands, do the Tango…_

_**No, I won't. I won't do that.**_ In her state of semi-control, Vesperra was aware of how humiliating that would be, and also of the fact that she had no idea how to Tango. And if she hadn't been trying so hard to fight off the Imperius Curse, she would have found it a bit funny that Moody knew what the Tango was. But she _was_ able to vaguely imagine how frustrated he must have been that he was failing. Or glad, actually.

_Do it, go dance with Nott… just do it…._

_**No**_—but Vesperra started to feel her resistance wavering, though she was trying very hard not to let it…. Moody had strengthened his mental force and broken down her wall, and now she was walking forward, struggling to at least be fully aware of what she was doing….

It was a bit dim on her side of things, but she did register Nott's surprised face (and everyone else's) as she stopped in front of him and uncontrollably reached for his hands. _Good, now pull him forward and dance—_

**NO, DAMMIT!**

Vesperra pushed with all the mental power she could muster and broke free just as she had pulled a very confused (and very red in the face) Theodore Nott an inch away from her; a split second later, she pushed him away from her to the side so hard that he fell to the floor and skidded a few feet. The cloudiness in her mind went away at once, and she could suddenly see and hear everything very clearly, more clearly than felt real. She imagined that this was what it must have been like to be hungover and then immediately recover with a potion.

Breathing heavily, she took a quick look around at the room. Most of her fellow fourth year Slytherins were staring at her with mixed confusion and jealousy, Nott was half-lying and half-sitting on the floor, groaning with pain as he tried to get up, and Moody's marred face was twisted into the first distinguishable smile she'd ever seen him make.

"_That_ is much more like it!" he said, his voice as close to cheerfulness as it could have been. "Did you all see that? Miss D'Monicas actually fought it—and she beat it, too! Took her a minute, but she did, and she was the first person in here to even come _close_." His magical eye fixed on her, and she tried not to look too pleased with herself—it clearly took a lot to impress someone like Mad-Eye Moody. "Let's do that one more time, just so everyone else can be sure to pay attention this time. Watch her face, you lot," he barked at the rest of the class, "especially her eyes."

Automatically, her face fell into a frown, but Vesperra couldn't bring herself to say "No, I'd rather not do that." She didn't have the time, either, because Moody didn't even warn her before raising his wand again and saying, "_Imperio!_"

The second time around, it was actually a bit easier and not as unpleasant; Vesperra managed to throw it off after only taking a single step forward. It was, however, still unpleasant to a point, and she was extremely glad not to have to do it again. She found that, even though the man had congratulated her, her liking for Moody had once again decreased. The thought of what she would have done if she hadn't been able to fight it off haunted her for a good portion of the rest of the hour, in which everybody else was put through the Imperius Curse. And she still refused to believe that Dumbledore would have allowed that.

After everyone had gone through it at least once and they were dismissed, Vesperra decided that it was worth having all the other Slytherins, especially Malfoy, glare at her to have done the best by far in resisting the Imperius.

"Dear God, Grease-perra being Moody's favorite is the _last_ thing we need…." Pansy had said once out of ear-shot of the professor in question. She linked arms with Malfoy, who then said,

"But Snape is _her_ favorite, and he definitely doesn't like Moody… so she'll have to choose."

Much of the group sniggered, and Vesperra scoffed inwardly. _Being a teacher's favorite doesn't mean you have to reciprocate it, idiot…. _Vesperra sank into the realm of her own thoughts as she walked with a slight limp (apparently one of the after-effects of the Imperius Curse, which was more prominent on the others) through the corridors, thinking about whether she should tell Severus about this or not. The only real benefit from not telling him was that she would be saving him from being in a bad mood for a while and having a headache…. _But,_ she told herself, _if I don't tell him, there's always the chance that Moody'll mention it in the staffroom and then he'll be angry with me for not telling him. Damn._

She supposed she'd have to tell him, and then just deal with his bad mood. Because that's what friends did.

When they all sat down for History of Magic and waited for Professor Binns to float in through the blackboard, Nott, to her slight surprise, sat down at Vesperra's table. He didn't often sit with her in this class, but she assumed he wanted to talk to her. It wasn't until a minute later of her purposely ignoring his presence that he said anything, though.

"That was amazing," he whispered, straightening a stack of parchment casually as he turned to her. He was giving her a half-smile, and she could have sworn she saw admiration in his eyes. No one else seemed to notice, as most of the rest of them were getting ready to fall asleep.

Vesperra just stared at him for a moment, suddenly feeling slightly uncomfortable and confused. Severus was the only one who ever complimented her (and Damien, once or twice), so she wasn't completely sure how to react now.

"Er… thanks," she whispered back uncertainly. She'd have preferred he never said anything.

"I could see it in your eyes, like Moody said," continued Nott after a small lapse of silence. "You were _really_ focused, even under the Imperius Curse—"

"What, you didn't think I had it in me?" snapped Vesperra on impulse—though it was more jokingly sarcastic than bitingly.

Binns had just entered the classroom, but Nott only paused for a second, as the ghost professor had already started droning on about goblin rebellions and wasn't paying them any attention. "What?—No, I just… You're really good at that sort of stuff. And… I wanted to know, what _was_ he trying to make you do?"

That's what she had expected him to ask in the first place, so she didn't hesitate. "Dance the Tango with you. Why you of all people, I'm not sure… but I'm glad it wasn't Malfoy. And I'm surprised they haven't said anything about it yet."

"I think they're more focused on being jealous of you," said Nott so as-a-matter-of-factly that Vesperra raised an eyebrow at him. She also noticed that he had gone slightly red again.

Narrowing her eyes, she refrained from saying any more about it and looked away, ending the conversation as smoothly as one would have changed the subject. Instead of paying attention to Binns (she would take her own notes later), she wondered if Nott was simply trying to flatter her so that she'd give him more help on their Ancient Runes homework. Probably.

Nevertheless, she couldn't doubt the pride swelling in her chest—but she didn't, not even for one second, consider the possibility that Theodore Nott was after something other than homework help.

* * *

**Theodore Nott's really becoming prominent in the story, isn't he? I wonder what that means... Well, actually, I _know_ what that means, and I'm pretty sure you guys know what it means, but I'd still like it if you guys would speculate on the details.**

**In other news, I got a picture of Snape signed by Alan Rickman for Christmas. I screamed and then cried. I also got a life-size standout of Snape, so now he's always just standing in my room. Always.**

**Anyway, PLEASE continue to review and tell me what you thought about the chapter, what you like about certain things that have been happening, and what you think is going to happen!**


	52. Book 4: Chapter 6

**New chapter! And I figured I should tell you guys beforehand that I might have used gratuitous Sherlock Holmes references, as well as an AVPM reference. But don't worry, it all makes sense in Canon! Anyway, I would have had this chapter up earlier, but exams are coming up and I've been studying and working on a lot of stuff for school. Enjoy!**

* * *

Having been standing up for about two hours straight, his neck arched in a position that got rather uncomfortable after a long period of time and his shoulder joints being constantly rotated with how much he had been moving his arms, Severus was glad to sit down—both with the relief from discomfort and with pride because of his work. Though he had always wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, Potions had been an almost equal passion and skill to that in his childhood _and_ adulthood. And so he felt a sort of addictive satisfaction whenever he finished a potion—the more difficult, the better.

Professor Sprout had talked to him earlier in the staffroom about how she had run out of the automatic growth spray she used on some plants, and that she'd like if he brewed her some more. As the Potions Master at Hogwarts, he couldn't have turned down that request even if he'd wanted to, so he had assured her that he'd have it ready for her tomorrow. The past couple hours, that's what he'd been working on; it was currently settling off of the fire, which would take about half an hour.

Severus was used to standing up for very long, as he had been doing this for several years, so the ache in his back, shoulders, neck, and wrists wasn't new to him. It hardly even crossed his mind to get himself anything for it, since his body was so accustomed to feeling like this that he couldn't really tell the difference anymore. The only thing on his mind was talking to Vesperra, a routine he was extremely accustomed to. And also something he looked forward to daily.

* * *

_You busy?_

_**Not if you don't count plotting Malfoy's death.**_

_What did he do this time? _

_**Nothing in particular. I just do that when I'm bored. I think I've gone through the possibilities so often that my ideas are starting to get ridiculous. How difficult do you suppose it would be to trick him into swimming in a vat of cake batter and then baking him into it?**_

_Pretty difficult, unless he was sleep-walking. Is that the most ridiculous one you've thought of, or is that just the beginning of it?_

_**Oh, it's just the beginning. I also have several variations of death by sharpened vegetables and asphyxiation from various small objects, like marbles.**_

_Sharpened vegetables?_

_**You know, like if you sharpened the end of a carrot or a cob of corn. I'm not sure if it would do much damage without extreme force, though. **_

_Are you writing these down as you go, or something?_

_**I'm not stupid, Severus. That could be collected as evidence. But anyway, speaking of death, I had Moody today.**_

Severus suddenly felt tense (more tense than he had been before) at the mention of Moody, and his heartbeat slowed down dramatically. He had heard the sudden change in Vesperra's tone of voice (which he could hear as he saw the message appearing) as well, and desperately wondered why she was associating Moody's class with death, though he knew he'd find out in just a moment.

_What did he do?_

_**Well, you know he's been teaching us the Unforgivables…. And today, he used the Imperius Curse on each of us to see how well we could resist it. He'd said that Dumbledore wanted us to know how it felt. **_

At this, he was shaking slightly in his seat with contained fury. It was several seconds before he began moving his quill across the page again.

_Like Dumbledore would ever consent to that. Lord, what did Moody make you do?_

_**Nothing. Well, he tried to make me dance with Nott, but I resisted it. I was the only one who was actually able to.**_

Vesperra purposely didn't mention how Moody had seemed to be rather happy, or that she might have been quickly becoming his favorite. She knew it would make Severus both angrier than he already must have been as well as possibly jealous.

Gasping involuntarily, he raised his eyebrows at the page of the journal he was on. Though he had known Vesperra for a long time and therefore been around for many of her sparks of absolute genius (and overall intelligence and her extremely strong mind, which he hypothesized to be capable of Occlumency should he ever choose to teach her), Severus was impressed. He shouldn't have thought anything less of her abilities, but he felt his chest swelling with pride at this news of her accomplishment. Of course, he wasn't any less angry that she had had the Imperius Curse on her in the first place, but she had _resisted_ it. She, a fourth year, had fought the mental power of one of the most renowned Aurors ever, and had _won_. That was a mark of an extremely powerful witch. Severus was proud to know her, and he was proud to be her friend.

_And you resisted it completely? He couldn't control you at all? _

She was surprised at the somewhat positive tone in his voice, but delighted nevertheless.

_**I took a step forward and grabbed Nott's hands, but that was about it. And then I pushed him halfway across the room. I don't think it hurt him, though, because he didn't say anything afterward except for that I was amazing. But that in itself could be a sign that his head hit the ground pretty hard.**_

_I'm sure you were amazing._

_**You can say that, but you can't honestly say that you would expect anyone to compliment me on it. That just doesn't happen.**_

_From what you've told me, Nott seems rather decent, unlike Malfoy or Parkinson or any of the others. So it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that he would give you the praise you deserve._

_**I suppose. But anyway, I thought you'd be angry. **_

_Oh, I am. I'm extremely angry. I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about this and sulk around in my office for the next couple weeks and take out my anger on first years. But right now, I'm just too proud of you. It's amazing how many things you've already done even though you're only in the beginning of your fourth year._

Vesperra, who was lying on her stomach in her four-poster bed in her dorm, felt her heart skip a beat and warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with friction between her robes and sheets. _Dammit Severus,_ she thought, _look what you do._

_**You can't see it right now, but you're making me blush.**_

_I can definitely tell by your dry and sarcastic tone. I'm glad I flatter you._

_**Compliments feel weird from you or anyone else. I guess it's just the sort of thing that it's difficult to get used to. **_

_Even after four years?_

_**Especially after four years. It's even stranger in retrospect. I don't mind compliments from you, but I don't need them in any sense, from anyone. I'm fiercely independent.**_

_Fiercely independent, but you become considerably depressed if you don't talk to me for a couple days._

_**That's completely different. Nothing about being independent says that you can live without a vital organ for a long period of time. **_

_So you're fiercely independent with an asterisk. I think I fall into that category as well._

* * *

The next morning, Severus planned to speak to Dumbledore as soon as possible, so he walked just a bit more quickly than usual to the staffroom. It wouldn't matter that he got there sooner, since he knew that the Headmaster didn't normally come to breakfast that early anyway; it was just his anxiety kicking in and compelling him to walk faster.

Rather than passing straight through the staffroom as he usually did, Severus found a spot next to an empty table to stand, leaning against the wall. His eyes did a quick sweep of the room, and he was glad to see that it was nearly empty but for Professor Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher, who was sitting down in one of the armchairs and appeared to be reading something, making a note every minute or so. She had glanced up only for a moment, given him a friendly smile that he didn't return, and said nothing as she looked back down at whatever she was doing.

Burbage was the sort of person who was nice to everyone, but not so overly friendly that it was annoying. But Severus found nearly every form of friendliness and compassion annoying, and he was always especially annoyed whenever she tried to talk to him. The woman had been a Gryffindor just a few years above him when he had attended Hogwarts, so perhaps she thought that she had some connection with him that none of the older professors, who had taught at Hogwarts since _they_ were children, could have. Severus supposed that if someone were to ask Burbage about him, she would say that they were friends; he certainly wouldn't say the same thing about her in return. If you were to ask any of the other professors at Hogwarts about him, they would just say that he was their colleague.

But she wasn't doing anything at the moment, so Severus didn't mind. He simply waited where he stood, thinking idly about everything he was going to say to Dumbledore, and how he was going to say it, what Dumbledore would say to anything he had in mind to tell him (some of which was extremely easy to guess because of his years of knowing the man, and others impossible because of the Headmaster's tendency to make no bloody sense). Severus didn't often plan out his confrontations with Dumbledore in intricate detail, but there wasn't much else to do at the moment and he always liked to keep his mind busy. When there were no feelings involved, at least. The only feeling involved this time was anger, which was currently at a sort of constant, though light trickling.

Starting from the minute directly after Severus had entered the staffroom, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sinistra, and Moody began to fill it as well. He cursed mentally when Moody had come in, for Dumbledore entered less than a minute later. As he could certainly not speak to the Headmaster about a man who was in the room, he waited to see if Mad-Eye would go and eat breakfast, leaving Severus to talk to Dumbledore—but the old man left the staffroom first. _Damn._

Scowling, he followed the Headmaster into the Great Hall, as did Sinistra and McGonagall completely (or most-likely, at least) by coincidence. At that, he scowled more deeply, but only inwardly. It was probably impossible to physically scowl more deeply than he already was.

And now, it was impossible to speak to Dumbledore even if he had ended up deciding to do so at the Staff Table with other teachers around who would have been capable of hearing. Out of his peripheral vision, Severus noticed much of the rest of the teachers glancing towards him and then averting their eyes—they didn't want to catch eyes with Severus Snape while he was clearly in a foul mood. _Smart of them,_ he thought.

Resigning to the fact that he'd have to be patient and wait another hour (really, it shouldn't have been all that disappointing even if he had to wait a day, as it didn't make much of a difference _when_ he confronted Dumbledore about it), Severus turned his attention to his plate. He hardly paid attention to what exactly he was eating, though—it could have been eggs, oatmeal, cereal, ham, or even the cutlery itself. It wasn't even searing, blinding anger that he was feeling, but sometimes just being frustrated was worse.

As they did so often and so swiftly to every room and everything they came across, Severus's eyes swept the Great Hall. He quickly sought out Vesperra's face at the Slytherin table, and after only half a second she glanced towards the Staff Table, noticed him looking, and held his gaze. In the few seconds that they dared lock eyes while she was surrounded by people who would love to notice a brief exchange and start taunting her for it, Severus wondered if she knew exactly why he was scowling so deeply. Surely she had noticed his furrowed brow and his extra lined face; and she was often correct in reading him. And, of course, she was the only person who could have even had an idea about the reason for his frustration.

Moody left before Dumbledore did, luckily, leaving him to wait until the old man got up. When he did, Severus followed, and his body movement should have made it clear to Dumbledore that he wanted to speak with him. However, when he stepped foot into the staffroom, he saw that Moody was in there, speaking to Professor Flitwick—telling him a story of his colored, highly violent and paranoia-filled past. _Damn. Again._

There were plenty of other curse words on his mind, but the voice of Dumbledore distracted him.

"Severus?"

Jerkily, he turned his head to see the Headmaster beside him where he had stopped. The twinkle in his blue eyes behind those half-moon glasses was the last thing Severus wanted to see. "Hm?"

"Did you want to speak to me?" Dumbledore seemed not to care that Severus hadn't even addressed him by name, even though there were other teachers around.

He quickly glanced from Dumbledore to Moody, at the same time trying to gauge how much time there was before classes began and how likely it was that the latter of the two men would leave soon. Neither of those worked out conveniently for him in his mental clock, and now Moody's magical eye was fixed on him while he was still talking to Flitwick. Not good.

"Not now," muttered Severus, making sure that his lips hardly moved, yet also trying to look casual as he did. At once, without glancing behind him to see whether Dumbledore had even heard, he headed straight for the door.

Shutting it behind him, he felt like he had just escaped an explosion. Severus didn't know why there had been such a heated, dramatic feel to being in the same room as Moody just then—aside from the fact that he was both avoiding and immensely angry at the man. His moves had been more calculated, though, as it was essential that he make sure Moody wasn't suspicious of him. So his mind had slowed things down and made things appear through his eyes and ears more dramatic than it actually was. Or… perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps there was no over-dramatizing going on at all.

Later that day, a decent amount of students suffered from Severus taking his anger out on them. But it wasn't as though it wouldn't have happened anyway, because each of their attempts at potion-making had been just _awful_, so they had deserved it. He imagined that the students must hate him even more every time something like this happened, and that was pretty damn often.

Before lunch, he tried not to have his mind completely set on talking to Dumbledore, as it wasn't very likely. Moody would indefinitely be in the room—so the best he could hope for was during the break after lunch. If the Universe didn't hate him so much as to situate Moody with Dumbledore for that hour, that is.

Severus turned out to be right on the first account, and he was mostly cooling down throughout lunch. Leaving early, he waited in the staffroom for Dumbledore to leave, which he did without Moody being a precursor. Immediately, he stepped forward, but the man had already stopped at the sight of him.

"Headmaster," said Severus calmly, though with a slight confrontational edge, "I'd like to speak with you. In your office. Or on the way to your office, because it may not take very long."

"Very well, Severus," said Dumbledore curiously, making toward the door already. He followed, and was glad to be out of ear-shot of Moody for once. "What's this all about, then?" he said as they walked at a swift pace.

"Moody."

Dumbledore tilted his head back slightly. "Ah."

"I'm going to skip the part where I ask you if you're aware of his teaching methods and instead just tell you that he's used the Imperius Curse on the students. According to Vesperra," He lowered his voice as he mentioned her, out of habit, "you agree with him that they need first-hand experience as to what it feels like." His voice alone was enough to tell Dumbledore that he didn't believe that one bit, so he didn't feel it necessary to mention.

"I did," said Dumbledore calmly. "And I think this is getting a bit out of hand, Severus. Alastor would never have used the Imperius Curse on the students without coming to me first, and I trusted him not to use it for abuse. I understand that you wouldn't like him, but you have no reason not to trust him—I can tell that you do, anyway. You would never have cared about Alastor's teaching methods were it not for Miss D'Monicas. Not that I don't find your worry for her quite endearing, Severus."

They had reached the entrance to the Headmaster's office, a sort of cave in the wall that was guarded by a stone gargoyle, behind which was a spiral staircase. Dumbledore was smiling softly through his beard despite the somewhat stern tone he had used only moments earlier, and Severus was frowning back at him, anger having flared up in his eyes at the mention of Vesperra in that manner.

Before he could respond, Dumbledore said the password that made the gargoyle leap aside and let them through ("Cockroach clusters"—Severus couldn't believe the old man liked those things). They stepped onto the slowly rotating spiral staircase, the younger of the two a bit hunched over, as was his habit when he was frustrated; and the older seemed as though absolutely nothing was wrong.

"Whether or not Vesperra has anything to do with this," snapped Severus once he'd stepped onto the stairs with him, "why would _you_ let Moody use the Imperius Curse on the students? Safe or not, that doesn't seem at all like the sort of thing that a man like _you _would do."

At this, Dumbledore's face turned grave: a sight that even Severus sobered up to see. The Headmaster turned towards him and sighed deeply. "I daresay you've heard the phrase 'Drastic times call for drastic measures,' Severus? You and I both know for a fact that Voldemort will return soon, and that means that soon enough, there will only be so much we can do to keep people safe. Students will be safe at Hogwarts, but those who will be leaving in only a matter of a few years will have to fight for themselves. Whatever happens, I want to make sure that they are as ready as possible. And, as Alastor agrees, knowing how to resist the Imperius Curse is a tremendous step forward. Even the Unforgivables can be forgivable, occasionally."

For a long moment, Severus remained silent. Dumbledore's words, rather than nestling in his head, were caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. He knew everything the man had said to be truth; he already had enough of all that twisted into different forms of phrasing, different forms of knowledge—vague, past emotions that didn't hold articulate explanations, but the feeling of dread was quite stark against the rest of him and brought him to the undeniable facts. So he didn't need to let these words settle, nor would he allow them to. The whirlwind left the rest of his mind safe and untouched.

"And you have absolutely no problem with putting children through possibly traumatizing experiences?" said Severus quietly, letting his eyelids drop a fraction of an inch. He felt sure that Dumbledore realized what he truly meant: he was simply curious about the Headmaster's feelings on the matter, and wasn't really arguing any longer.

Fixing him with a sad look in his piercing blue eyes, Dumbledore sighed once again. A glance upward told him that the spiral staircase had finally come to his office door, and he first stepped slightly to the side, gesturing for Severus to go before him. Making to sit down at the chair he had yet to sit in this year, he waited for Dumbledore to speak, and continued to frown all the while. His eyes briefly flicked to Fawkes, who was sitting on the perch in her cage and pecking at her feathers.

Dumbledore had sat down at his chair and was leaning forward at a small angle, folding his hands on the desk. "Keep in mind all that I've just told you," he said, now looking much older than he normally did. "Of course I have a problem with it, Severus. I wish it weren't necessary to acclimatize students to some of the darkest things in existence so quickly, but I know that it is. And I'm willing to sacrifice the innocence of a child if it means that they'll be ready for what's coming, whenever it comes. Hogwarts is one of the worst places one could wish to keep their innocence, anyway. And I believe that the student you are looking out for in particular has already, essentially, lost her innocence."

"You know that Vesperra has suffered the Cruciatus Curse," said Severus, his jaw becoming stiffer and his voice lower. "And as mature I know she already is, she _is_ physically a child, and she's been far too damaged." It was coming out as more of a statement than a complaint—and perhaps that's what it really was. He knew there was no change he could make, so he was just saying what came to mind. "Yes, I agree that I wouldn't have given a damn if she wasn't involved. But would you have blamed any of the other students' _parents_ for thinking the same, had they discovered exactly how Moody was teaching? I _know_ Vesperra's mentally strong and I _know_ she's capable of dealing with it—she actually resisted the Imperius Curse, for Merlin's sake—but I feel like I'm not doing my job as a friend if I let her go through whatever idea Moody has next."

The Headmaster looked down at his clasped hands and didn't say anything for a minute. But then: "I apologize, Severus, but the way I run this school is not dependent on your, Miss D'Monicas's, or even my own happiness. However, I would be more worried for the other students. Clearly Miss D'Monicas won't have a hard time in his class—I would even say that she has a knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Dumbledore smiled, and then the man across from him met his eyes with the slightest smirk. Severus began to stand up, and as he turned to the side and took a step toward the door, he said, "I would severely hope so. But her passion lies much further in potion-making, you know. Good afternoon, Albus."

Dumbledore returned the sentiment, but Severus didn't turn his head or acknowledge it in any way as he walked out. Practically gliding back down the staircase, he thought: He knew that Vesperra didn't want him to worry over her, he was confident in her abilities, and he _did_ trust Moody to train her (as well as Potter and all the other students) and of course not to hurt anyone. It wasn't just his protectiveness over his best friend that got him to be so wary of the man, though—it was also the fact that Moody didn't trust him. It was difficult to trust people who didn't trust you as well, even if there was no reason not to otherwise.

These thoughts seemed to have finished their round trip around Severus's brain at the very moment that his feet hit flat ground. He strode through the corridors and down to the dungeons with, a bit frustratingly, having had no realization of any sort and made no change whatsoever.

_Well, what did I bloody expect?_

* * *

"So Potter can do it too?"

"Apparently. I'd never in a million years have guessed that _Potter_ could have the mental strength, but he did. Also—there's still twenty-one Adler bulbs."

"Right." Vesperra scrawled down the name of the plant and the number onto the roll of parchment stuck on the clipboard that she was holding, at the same time checking the old one, which she'd haphazardly tacked to the wall with one of Severus's coat pins that she'd found. For a few seconds, the only sounds in the storeroom were that of the scratch of the quill, the shuffling of parchment, and the scraping of Severus's boot against wood as he took a step down on the ladder.

It was Saturday, and they had decided to spend a couple of their afternoon hours together inventorying Severus's private ingredient stores. It was also exactly a week from Halloween, which was when the "impartial selector" was supposed to choose the school champions, but Severus was the only one of them who had been thinking much about it lately. At the moment, though, he was telling Vesperra what Moody had mentioned in the staffroom that morning (which he hadn't been able to help but hearing, as McGonagall had wanted to ask him something at the time). According to him, Potter had been able to resist the Imperius Curse during his lesson, and had been the only one in the class to do so.

"It's hardly as impressive," said Severus, just as much to himself as it was to Vesperra. His voice came out as slightly more nasal than usual, as it often did when he was irritated. Carefully, he reached for another jar, just down the column from the previous one, and started to open the lid. "It took him five tries to throw off the curse completely, and you nearly had it perfect the first time."

She mentally noted his casual tone of voice as he said this, and shifted the clipboard slightly in her hand. As weird as compliments felt sometimes, Vesperra really liked to hear them when they were so nonchalant. She liked to be recognized for her abilities, but she'd very much prefer that the praise be spoken like it was a fact that went without saying than someone saying it to her simply for the sake of giving her a compliment. Not that that happened often.

When Severus gave her the next number, Vesperra said directly afterwards, "Not that I care, but do you think it's odd that he talked about Potter in the staffroom, but not about me, even though I did better?"

"It did strike me as odd…," he agreed, his voice trailing off. He nearly started drifting off into deep thought, but he stopped himself and reached down to check the next jar, careful not to let his attention waver or drop it. "I've been thinking about it, actually. There's a chance that he did say something about it and I just hadn't been there when he did—or it might just be favoritism for his own House." Severus's voice had turned slightly bitter at that, despite his own obvious and daily displays of House favoritism.

Vesperra made to lean against the edge of the wall next to the doorway (the small bit of it that wasn't covered in shelves of ingredients), but then jumped a bit in alarm and straightened herself when she backed up directly into the pin (which she'd used to stick the previous month's inventory record to the wall). She mentally smacked herself when she realized that she'd forgotten the pin was sharp on both sides. However, she didn't let out any noise of pain (as she'd learned to control over the years), and she didn't feel the need to let Severus know. So she went on with what she had been about to say to him.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case, since he's always acting like the Slytherins are much more prone to end up as Dark wizards than anyone else. And, well, I know that we _are_, in a way, because of the House's reputation, but it's sort of the self-fulfilling prophecy sort of thing. Moody's only making it more likely by singling us out."

That gauged a bit of surprise in him, and Severus tried to finish counting Andaman leaves quickly (though he had to be careful, because the leaves were of high toxicity even by touch and had to be handled with forceps) and tell her the exact number. Then he looked down at her, regarding her with a pensive look.

"It was even worse during the War…," said Severus. "So many people were already aspiring to be Death Eaters when they were only your age. It's hard to be in Slytherin, because you've got all these expectations of you both by people who want you to get into the Dark Arts and those who hate them—and _those_ people are worse. Those are the people who single you out whether you show an interest in Dark magic or not, and they only push you further into it by doing that. It's not only peer pressure… enemy pressure's just as powerful."

The stress lines on his face became more prominent as old memories were brought up freshly to the surface, where he could see them clearly rather than have them in the blurry background of his mind: Him, being interested in the Dark Arts even as a young boy; the Marauders' relentless bullying that led him to wanting power and revenge; his Slytherin friends pulling him into the pre-Death Eater lifestyle; him making the worst mistake of his life….

Vesperra remembered when Severus had told her that he had made some horrible mistakes in his past because of Dark magic. He had never elaborated on that, and she had accepted that she may have to wait a long time before he decided to tell her—but she wasn't sure whether she wanted to know. She was suddenly very curious, though, and she wondered if he was thinking about the mistakes he'd made and whether he was going to tell her now.

It also made her think of how her interest in the Dark Arts would likely be much smaller if she didn't have so many enemies—her own parents being two of them. Vesperra did try to avoid it, as she'd promised Severus she would, but she couldn't help her interest in it, nor could she help coming across curses and Dark potions in her reading (theoretical information, of course).

When he didn't continue, she said, "But you wouldn't exactly consider Moody an enemy, would you? I mean, he's absolutely mad—and I know you're angry with him, and I'm rather miffed at a lot of the things he does too, but he _is_ on our side."

Shaking the memories out of his head (with which he actually did shake his head slightly, sending a couple thin locks of hair flying into his face), Severus replaced the jar. This time, he didn't stall his response with checking an ingredient—but he did look slightly to the side, in a sort of distracted way, instead of directly at her.

"No, not at all—but he would definitely not consider _me_ a friend, or even refer to me positively. He doesn't trust me."

"Why doesn't he?" said Vesperra, her voice a tad on the earnest side. She'd asked him this before and hadn't gotten a straight answer—but she thought she might get one this time. What little hope she had fell when Severus sighed.

"Honestly, Vesperra, if you didn't know me, would you say that I looked like the sort of man that you could trust?"

As though it were an instinctive response to a question like that, her eyes automatically looked him up and down, taking in everything she already knew all too well—some of which she had taken time to observe and analyze before, simply because she had been bored. Putting together his entirely black attire, lean stature, sallow skin, and greasy hair, she supposed that his demeanor would make him seem untrustworthy to another set of eyes, especially anyone that he regularly punished in his classes. But she was so accustomed to his face and mannerisms that she could hardly tell anymore.

Vesperra suppressed a smile of slight amusement, but then frowned. She _could_ have gotten angry with him and told him—loudly—that Moody had called him an "old friend" and that he was deliberately avoiding giving her a straight answer, but she knew he had his reasons for not having told her yet, and she respected that.

"It's difficult to say, because I _do_ know you," she said, nearly leaning into the wall again but then catching herself when she remembered the pin. "Even if I had never become your friend, I would still have respected you—and I would still trust you with my life."

Meeting her gaze, he let a tiny smile escape his lips. Severus was glad that she trusted him so much, but at the same time filled with self-loathing, for he kept so much from her. The feeling in the pit of his stomach made him start to seriously consider telling her everything today; but if he decided to do so, he still had to wait until they finished inventorying. So he stepped down on the ladder again and went on.

But as he grabbed the thin phial of Antimony that was next on the shelf and inspected its contents, Severus froze, his hand suddenly feeling so stiff that nothing could have pried his fingers apart. He stared down at the silvery blue liquid unblinkingly, for a moment unable to speak.

"Merlin, it's _fucking_ happened again," he swore. His jaw had become very tight, but his voice was still clear enough for Vesperra to hear; she had nearly jumped in alarm when he said it, and her head snapped up to him.

"What's wrong?"

"It—sorry for my language—" Severus felt compelled to apologize even though he doubted that she cared, and despite the situation (he couldn't help but be gentlemanly). "—somebody's gotten into my stores again. Half the bottle of Antimony is gone, and I haven't used any of it this year."

Having been the one to procure (or have someone else procure it for her, at least) it for him, Vesperra felt a surge of frustration of the worst sort. It might have been weird that _that_ was the first thing she felt upon discovering this, but it just felt like she had done all that for nothing. Even though she hadn't really done much. But then, it turned to confusion, and the feeling that something was very off—

"Wait, so… they used it, and then they returned it?"

"Or they had another bottle ready to pour a bit of it into, and they thought it would be less noticeable if the entire vial wasn't gone," said Severus bitterly. First making sure that he had a good balance on the ladder and wasn't prone to falling off, he removed his wand from his pocket and put the tip to the vial of Antimony, magically measuring the liquid. He then shoved his wand harshly back into his pocket and growled, "There's about three and a quarter ounces left," then put the vial away on the shelf. "Now—"

Immediately, Severus reached for the next column over and hastened to find another jar. When he caught sight of it, he didn't hesitate to grab it and lift it up to his eyes to check the amount of powder inside. After a few moments, he scowled and let out a noise of anger that was rather like a growl. Vesperra watched, a bit worried for him (though she completely understood and mostly shared his anger), as he put that jar back in its spot and stepped up the ladder again to take another jar from the same column. He met that one with a similar response, minus the growl.

"Somebody's stolen some of the boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn as well—whoever they are, there's not doubt that they're trying to make Polyjuice potion." Severus was gripping the ladder so hard that his knuckles were going white, and he was unwittingly baring his teeth somewhat.

"Do you think it's the same person it was last time?"

"It's possible. But last time, they didn't _put it back_. They might have realized their mistake, but it's probably more likely that it's someone else this time—the reason for needing Polyjuice potion doesn't seem like it could be connected to two different events that are two years apart."

Sighing in frustration and pinching the bridge of her nose, Vesperra began to pace back and forth across the width of the storeroom (which was only a few feet), as it was a nervous tick of hers. "I still don't understand how someone could have gotten through your wards, though. You probably keep more stringent security on your office than any of the other teachers do—wouldn't it have to be someone who was _extremely_ skilled at breaking protective spells?"

"This isn't the first or even the second time ingredients have been stolen, Vesperra—I don't cast wards over my door _every_ single time I leave the office." Severus felt strange, having this conversation while he was several feet higher above her than usual. But not so strange that it distracted him from how angry he was. "A minute or so would be all someone needed at the most to steal a few things…. I've caught students at it before, so whoever it was must have done something besides trying to sneak their way in during lunch—there must be something that I'm—_we're_—overlooking."

Vesperra took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a couple seconds, then only looked at the floor, still pacing. Her eyes were wide, but her vision started to waver and blur out as she physically strained her mind to think; this was a tactic she often used to get into the deep recesses of her mind, and it did help. Severus's eyes followed her, and he somehow found this amusing enough for it to ease his frustration a little while he was thinking hard as well.

"Do you… do you think it could be Potter?" she said after about a half a minute, raising her head slightly without looking at him.

"I certainly wouldn't rule him out," said Severus, his tone almost clipped. "He'd have the bravery to do this—but bravery's merely a nicer word for stupidity. The only trouble is that there's no proof—not even a sufficient amount of facts for good guesswork—that he did it. If Potter _is_ to blame, I'd very much like to know what he's using Polyjuice potion for…."

After another minute or so of hard thinking and claw-like hand gestures (which were a common reflex from her thinking that hard), Vesperra stopped, straightened herself, and gave a seemingly perfunctory glance around the storeroom. Then she let out the breath she'd been unknowingly holding.

"Sorry," she said, looking back up at him. It wasn't condolences for his ingredients being stolen, but an apology for briefly going off on her own tangent and not saying anything at all to him for those couple minutes. But Severus was used to it, since it was a thing she tended to do relatively often, and he had been waiting patiently for her to be finished before he did anything. "There's really nothing either of us can do, and we both know that. Just like last time. Unless you want to interrogate every student in Hogwarts—and if you did, I'd start with the Gryffindors…. And as angry we both are, I'm—_we're_—no Sherlock Holmes… so it would be best if we just got on with the inventorying. And I'm sure you were already thinking all of that yourself."

He had been, but he was glad to hear her say it out loud. Neither of them were the sort for getting over things easily, but they could at least act like they had. Severus's brain did a double-take on what he had just heard, however; cocking his head, he furrowed his brow in more of a slightly bemused frown than a frustrated one, then narrowed his eyes at her.

"I didn't think you would know who Sherlock Holmes was," he said, his voice completely different than before.

Not having expected him to comment on that, Vesperra raised her eyebrows and was silent for a moment. She remembered the twenty minutes or so she'd watched of the Muggle telly version of one of the stories, but pushed that down at once—she was _not_ going to tell him that.

"I've seen him mentioned in a few books," said Vesperra, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. "He was relatively famous in our world, so it shouldn't be that surprising to you."

"And just as famous, if not more, in the Muggle world." A short memory flashed through Severus's eyes and ears: the sound of cattails rustling and feet hitting grass, which is more muffled… a flash of red hair that sends a jolt of happiness through him… a box in her hands, which lands gently on the ground with a soft _thump_ as she sits down… a question asked: "What're those?" and an answer: "My mum's Sherlock Holmes novels"… an explanation, a suggestion, a realization that he's heard of this before, a not-so-grudging agreement… an afternoon of reading…

_God dammit, why does _everything_ we do come back to Lily? Bloody everything!_ But it had all come and passed so quickly that he hadn't needed to put forth any effort to hide the falter in his expression. And he supposed that he honestly didn't mind being reminded of Lily by Vesperra…. Sometimes it was refreshing.

"I've… read all the books," continued Severus. "Both the Muggle and Wizarding—_accurate_, that is to say—versions. And I wouldn't say we're completely unlike him… just not _quite _as brilliant. I'd probably be the Sherlock in our situation, though."

"Hm. I haven't actually read them…. Maybe I should." Vesperra then realized what else he'd said and turned on him, her tone a bit of a joking one as his had been. "And why would _you_ be Sherlock?" According to the general information about the books that she knew of, that would have made _her_ Watson, and thus the more compassionate, though less intelligent one. And she didn't think she fit that.

He thought about it for a second. "I'm taller. And, if anything, you're _my_ sidekick, not the other way around—although you definitely can be more brilliant at times."

While she still fancied herself as more of the Sherlock in the relationship (or at least she wished she could be that brilliant), Vesperra's lips twitched into a smirk at his reason, and she didn't say anything else on the matter. They'd come quite far in their conversation—a bit too far.

Coughing to break the silence and prevent awkwardness, she said, "Right. Back to inventorying, then?"

"Yes, we should."

Their frustration from discovering that ingredients were missing hadn't been completely overwhelmed by the amusement from both of them knowing about Sherlock Holmes, and so it was in a rather stiff manner that Severus pulled out each of the jars and reported their contents to Vesperra. A couple times more, they came across another ingredient that there was much less of than there should have been, all of which were used in Polyjuice Potion. But by the time that they were completely finished, they had cooled down a considerable amount and were hardly in as bad a mood as before.

"That's it, then," breathed Vesperra, relieved, as she rolled up the parchment and Severus flicked his wand so that the ladder would fold itself back up.

As he stowed his wand away in his robes and turned to look at Vesperra, he noticed the inventory record from last month behind her—but then he did a small double-take and looked closer, and—"Is that… one of the pins from my coat?"

For a second she was confused, but she quickly realized what he meant and her eyes popped open a bit wider as she glanced back at the wall. "Oh—er, yeah," said Vesperra slowly and sheepishly. She made to wriggle the pin out of the thin layer of wood that surrounded the walls of the storeroom, pulling it free and rolling up the old parchment as well. "I found it on the floor next to your desk."

When she finished rolling that up, Vesperra looked up and straight at Severus, who broke into a smirk almost so wide that it was utterly unlike him and even let out a couple short, breathy laughs.

What was so amusing to him was that it wasn't the sort of thing that you could call particularly weird, but it was still something he could only imagine Vesperra doing. Severus didn't say anything else, but just gestured for her to leave the somewhat cramped space of the storeroom before he did. She raised an eyebrow at him as if to say _"What's so damn funny?"_, but he just took the scrolls of parchment from her and put them away in his cabinet.

"That must have fallen out of my coat," said Severus after he walked back to the couch and sat down with her. She handed the pin to him, and he took it between his forefinger and thumb before setting it down on the small table next to the couch. "I don't think it'll matter, anyway. It probably only kept one of the cuffs from unfolding."

"Maybe you can get a new coat," said Vesperra, sidling up next to him on the couch, glad to be sitting down after a couple hours (likely more) of standing up. Her hand found Severus's almost on its own and without her knowledge. "How about, on the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, I buy you a new one? I'll make sure to get one that's bright pink, covered in lace, and—"

Severus had snapped his head around to her and lightly, playfully hit her leg with the back of his left hand (which was clasped with hers). Vesperra shut up at once and they both half-suppressed smiles, their knees moving involuntarily upwards as though they might have curled in on themselves with silent peals of laughter.

"Do that," said Severus, with them now leaning on each other, "and I'll give you detention."

* * *

_Boom._ It was a mini explosion of bodily chemicals as the end of a Skrewt blasted off, propelling it forward and igniting another Skrewt that had been behind it. There were now more crates to hold these things, as they were only growing faster.

"Fascinatin' creatures, these are, aren' they?" said Hagrid, lumbering along the rows of crates and students, though hardly appearing to realize how apprehensive several people were to feed them. Absolutely delighted, and with the air of someone delivering so-good-you-wouldn't-believe-it news, he stood up front and said, "I've been thinkin', an' as part o' yer project fer this class, I reckon yeh all should come down here ev'ry other evenin' ter observe 'em an' take notes on what they're doing!"

Instead of looking excited as Hagrid must have naïvely expected them to, everyone dawned an even worse expression than they'd already had, most of them clearly saying, _Oh hell no._

"I will not," said Malfoy flatly, his cold voice breaking the silence. He was the first one to speak, and Vesperra wasn't surprised in the least. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face, though much later than it should have; Vesperra supposed his cognitive abilities were painfully slow. "Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, sounding angry for the first time that Vesperra had heard, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh make a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors roared with laughter, and Vesperra snorted, suddenly overcome with giggles that even she couldn't completely fight off—but she might have if she had wanted to. She automatically cast a glance towards Nott, who looked like he was struggling to suppress a grin. Malfoy had gone pink again, like the day he had been turned into a ferret and humiliated in front of nearly the entire school—but not quite as dark a shade. He seemed to still be sufficiently traumatized enough not to retort.

That had made the rest of the Care of Magical Creatures lesson much more bearable, except for the end, when Malfoy told Goyle to grab her schoolbag as he walked by and tug it down so hard that she fell down with it. Luckily, she was able to stick one arm out and prevent herself from hitting the ground face first and getting not only a face full of mud, but a broken nose. That would have been at least the third time so far in her time at Hogwarts that she broke her nose (or rather, that someone else broke it). Her left arm ached all the way back up to the castle, but it was better than smashing her nose and bleeding all over the front of her robes.

When they arrived in the Entrance Hall, there was an unusually large crowd of students—not waiting outside the double doors to the Great Hall for lunch, but congregating around a large sign that had been put at the base of the marble staircase. Confused and intrigued, Vesperra and the other Slytherins inched their way as far into the dense crowd as they could in order to see what was so important. There was talk and exciting whispering all around, but it was difficult to make out and distinguish one voice from another.

It was an agonizingly long twenty seconds before Vesperra managed to find a spot from which she could see above the heads in front of her; she lifted herself up by standing on tiptoe and arching her neck uncomfortably, then read:

_**TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT  
**__The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast._

While everyone around her was anxiously discussing the tournament and what it was going to be like to have students from other schools here, the first thought that came to her mind was: _Dammit, Potions is on Friday!_ And Vesperra was sure that most others (even some of the Slytherins) must have been especially glad that this was the case, but she was not most people. _Most people_ weren't friends with Severus Snape, and most people didn't have limited time per week that they could speak to their best friend in person.

Besides, he had assigned the fourth years a week or so ago to research antidotes and had said he might poison one of them before Christmas to see how well their antidote worked—and she had been looking forward to seeing Longbottom being poisoned. Of course, as Severus had regrettably assured her, it would only be for humiliation purposes, and he wouldn't actually let anyone die; he'd have the proper antidote ready. They had talked about it, and he had told her that he would have considered using her, if only to show her off to everyone else—but he could never give _her_ poison, no matter what the circumstance.

For Vesperra, researching antidotes was immensely easy. She had the motherload of information residing within a large, dusty book in her school trunk, and a lot of that was already in her head from the countless times that she'd read about them.

But whether or not there was a possibly poisoned Longbottom involved, Vesperra resented to have even a half an hour cut off from her class with Severus. The arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students was of little personal importance to her, so she walked away from the crowd and toward the Great Hall to eat dinner in much lower spirits than everyone else (just slightly above her normal mood, then.) She couldn't deny that it was all a bit—_thrilling_, if nothing else, that the Triwizard Tournament was to start in less than a week…. But she knew what this meant, and she definitely wasn't looking forward to the annoying, non-stop conversation about the tournament which would indefinitely take place for the next week.

* * *

As a teacher, the week was rather strenuous and stressful instead of exciting. All the professors were working hard to make sure everything was orderly and suitable for their foreign guests to arrive; Severus wondered if it had been like this every five years back when the Triwizard Tournament had been a regular thing. Even though he didn't find it exciting in particular (and was not at all looking forward to meeting Karkaroff again after all these years), he did his part for the school's sake.

One evening was spent re-organizing some of the dungeon storerooms, despite the fact that it wasn't likely anyone would go down there. But Severus didn't mind having an excuse to do what he'd meant to do for a while. He, along with the other heads of Houses, gave several lectures to those of their House about proper behavior—though his were more like series of insults than lectures. The entire staff, especially him, was very tense, and Vesperra had easily been able to tell before he had even told her why, simply by the way he walked and the tone in his voice when they talked through the journals. He couldn't help but be, as the time of more demanding work and effort for an event he'd prefer not to happen at all was close at hand.

It seemed that Vesperra, rather than being tense like him, was mainly apathetic about the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming, though he didn't think she lacked quite as many feelings towards the entire tournament.

During the week, the castle was undergoing a massive cleaning. Day and night, portraits were scrubbed, any and every shelf was dusted, and the suits of armor were shined and cleaned so thoroughly that they didn't squeak when they moved. Filch spent his time sweeping and waxing the floors, and also yelling at any passing student who got a bit of mud on the floors. To be completely honest, Severus didn't think it was necessary to do all this just because the other schools were coming. It would only be a first impression, and the shine that now lingered on every surface would soon go away after they've arrived. Filch certainly wasn't going to keep up the immaculate job the entire year, so it wasn't as though Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would have a permanent opinion of Hogwarts castle's level of tidiness.

He also didn't think they'd care very much about the layer of dust on some portraits or the grime on the walls of the dungeons (which Dumbledore was forcing him to clean at least part of, unfortunately), and if they did, they'd have to get used to it anyway. But Severus supposed that all of this was simply a common habit for wizards and witches (and even Muggles, in a sense): they liked to show off when they're together. They wanted to look the best, to impress—even though it wouldn't matter at all in the long run. Or very long at all after the first day, actually.

Severus was pretty sure he and Vesperra were tied when it came to how much all the talk about the Triwizard Tournament annoyed them. In his lessons, it was all he heard the students talking about; several times, he had to stop abruptly behind a student and snap at them to shut up and focus on their work. Some students—Slytherins, obviously—had even tried to ask him about the tournament and how the champions were chosen, but he had once again retorted in a snarky manner and told them that they would find out on their own.

He couldn't really blame them, though. The Triwizard Tournament was a novelty for anyone who hadn't lived for the past few hundred years, and Severus imagined that many students, both underage and overage, were fantasizing daily about entering and winning. Eternal glory, two-thousand Galleons in prize money… If the tournament had been resurrected when _he_ had attended Hogwarts, he would definitely have wanted to enter very badly as well. In spite of the danger and the fact that he was a Slytherin (self-preservation being one of the huge attributes about his House), he would have seen it as a chance to make Lily think he was brave and admire him. Briefly, he wondered whether he would even have been chosen to be Hogwarts champion if that had happened.

_It probably would've been Potter,_ he thought bitterly.

* * *

The thirtieth of October had arrived feeling, for the most part, like any other day for Vesperra and Severus—only a bit on edge. A huge difference, though, was that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight with enormous silk banners that hung from the walls, representing each of the Houses and then Hogwarts as a whole, the latter of which was behind the Staff Table. Excited chattering was all around during breakfast, the anxiety evident in their voices as well as in the air.

At the Slytherin table, there was less animated conversing about the events to come than there were at the other tables—less animatedness, anyway. It might have been a coincidence, but Slytherins by default, whether it was because it was one of the House traits or because they all felt the need to live up to the stereotype, were generally a bit less cheerful than average. Or it might have been that violence and seeing harm come to other people usually had to be a main factor to make any Slytherin visibly excited. But, according that logic, Salazar Slytherin must have originally meant for his House to be mostly limited to those who had at least _some_ sociopathic qualities…. Then again, that might not have been very far-fetched.

Either way, Vesperra was never seen by anyone but Severus (and Nott, on one occasion) out of her usual cheerfulness level, which was far beneath the average and just sinking into the dregs of the cheerfulness bar. So she was the only person just sitting still and doing what people came to the Great Hall to _do_—eat breakfast. While she wasn't paying attention to it at all, bits of the conversation around her reached her ears.

"Are they going to take lessons with us, or what? If they don't, then they get to just spend an entire year camping out here and doing nothing but watching the tournament… lucky bastards…."

"Ugh, why do we have to _welcome_ them? All we'll be doing is just standing outside while we nearly freeze to death and wait for them to get here…. How d'you think they're going to get here, anyway?"

"Personally, I can't wait to meet the guys from Durmstrang. I want to know what I've been missing for the past four years…."

"So, who here is gonna try to trick this 'impartial selector?'"

At that, Vesperra was jerked back into full awareness of the group of students around her, for Malfoy said directly after, "Grease-perra is. Aren't you?"

She could practically hear the combined noise of all their necks shifting as nine heads turned immediately to her, and she could see each and every one of their expressions clearly without even looking up. Having attended Hogwarts with all of them for over three years, Vesperra had picked up on all of their personalities and could therefore make a very good guess as to what they looked like at the moment.

Feeling a twinge of panic (panicking in the face of confrontation), she thought very quickly about the consequences and came to an informed decision in less than a second—probably her record so far. Vesperra set her fork down and looked up at them all, trying to refrain from being too stiff.

Nearly all of her guesses were correct: Malfoy was smirking coldly; Crabbe and Goyle were looking stupidly confused; Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne were all frowning, looking both angry and surprised; Millicent's square jaw was slightly elongated, as her mouth was hanging open; Blaise's eyes were wide but the rest of his face was same as ever—Nott, surprisingly, was the one whose expression was a bit off from her guess.

Vesperra knew him best out of everyone (except perhaps Malfoy, as people tend to get to know their enemies very well), and yet she had been wrong. While she had figured that he would have had a bemused expression, his lips pursed and his brow only slightly furrowed, Theodore Nott was looking almost horrified. Her glance lingered a moment longer on him, for she was both confused and somewhat frustrated that she'd been wrong.

Malfoy, the prat though he was, apparently kept all conversations between the two of them to himself, for he was the only one smirking; Vesperra didn't know if she was glad about that or not. But everyone but him seemed to at least partly believe him, which she had also guessed.

"Depends on who the 'selector' is," she said casually, as though it were true. And 'casual' for her was a brisk, _I'm allergic to stupid_ tone—the sort that could easily be perceived as insulting, no matter what she was actually saying. "I can't plan anything if I don't know what exactly I'm supposed to be getting around, can I?"

And at that, Vesperra quickly swept her eyes across them once more, then resumed eating. She was obviously not going to attempt to enter the tournament even if she _did_ see a possible way around it once they all found out how the champions were chosen, since she hated to imagine how scared Severus would be for her. Often, she was a little annoyed at his excessive worrying over her safety, but the tasks could very well put her into mortal danger, and she could just _feel _the pain that Severus would be feeling while watching her trying not to die. She didn't want him to feel that. But of course, she would feel no guilt from screwing with all of _them_.

The rest of them stayed still for another moment, but then slackened their shoulders and shifted in their seats, some nodding slowly in agreement, others looking even more surprised, and a few of them looking as though they weren't sure whether she was being serious or not—which included Malfoy. _Mission accomplished. I'll just let them figure that out on their own...,_ thought Vesperra, smirking inwardly.

That had apparently given them all so much to think about that they couldn't find anything else worthy of conversation for the remainder of breakfast.

Throughout the day, Vesperra must have been one of the few people actually attentive in classes—but she was used to being a minority, especially in also looking forward to Potions classes.

The very air of the Potions class that afternoon was teeming with impatience; Vesperra and Severus could almost taste it. And they didn't really like the taste, because the both of them would have preferred to stay for the full duration of the hour and a half.

Severus was tenser than he had been the rest of the week, and ended up snapping, once he'd gotten to the table of Malfoy and his cronies, "Crabbe, Goyle, please do _not_ demonstrate your ability to turn every potion you brew into a toxic mess to anyone from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons." As apathetic he was about the other schools themselves, he did want for his own House not to embarrass themselves. He said similar things to a few Gryffindors, and, as he had been on a roll, got to Vesperra and said, "Miss D'Monicas, you—just… keep doing what you're doing."

When the bell rang, they both had to leave immediately, so there was no staying behind to talk for even a minute.

Soon, the Slytherins had deposited their bags back in their dorms and headed down to the Entrance Hall, in which the Heads of Houses were all ordering their students into lines. Severus had the leftmost part of the cavernous hall, and a few simple orders were all it took to get everyone moving to their spots, for the last thing anyone with brain cells wanted was to make _him_ angry. Well, perhaps not Vesperra at times, but that was only because it was sometimes amusing (and attractive) when he was frustrated.

From Severus's instruction and physical intervention (grabbing students by the shoulder and shoving them in different spots, that is), the Slytherins lined up by year, going in chronological order and starting from the front, going back. Vesperra ended up near the end of the line of fourth years, with Malfoy luckily at the other end. Everyone from other Houses was doing the same.

There was an indistinct jumble of whispers all around her, and the irate voices of teachers rose above them. Severus was maneuvering himself around the rows, growling at students to fix their collar or to put something away, which included Crabbe and Goyle and some dungbombs they'd had in their extraordinarily meaty hands. His eyes swept across Vesperra several times, and each time, she looked back, seemingly trying to calm him down with a look. It worked.

"Alright, all of you follow me," ordered Severus once everything was good. "Push and cause a domino effect, and you'll have detention."

Vesperra smirked to herself at his threat, following him with the rest of the group. Soon, the whole of the Hogwarts population was standing out on the lawns. Severus went to the back row with the rest of the teachers, purposely staying far away from Moody. It was a strange setting, with everyone situated out there and the grounds darkening around them. Once again, impatience was thick in the air, and it was beginning to become contagious.

Just as the rest of the staff did, Severus knew exactly how both schools were getting here, so he knew where to watch. And he hadn't told Vesperra (so as to keep it a surprise), but he was sure that she would have guessed it would be a dramatic entrance. His eyes repeatedly flicked from the sky to the lake to the back of Vesperra's head.

The people around her were starting to shift in their spots, probably tired from standing and starting to get cold. Vesperra was impatient as well, but mostly for the fact that she didn't want to stand out here and do nothing. There were anxious whispers all around, speculating on the manner of how the other schools were getting here, and she and Nott threw each other a silent, curious glance. So far, though, there was no sign of anything.

"_Merlin_—look." Nott nudged her with his elbow and nodded towards the sky, where there was something indistinguishable growing larger with each passing second. She had to admit, she was impressed that he'd seen that. And not a second later—

"Aha!" called Dumbledore from the teachers' row in the back. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students at once, looking around in all directions. Neither Vesperra nor Nott said anything, because they were both still staring at the sort-of box shape growing ever nearer, but finally a sixth year realized to look up in the sky above the Forbidden Forest, pointed, and said, "There!"

As everyone else followed his finger and looked, there was a large, mutual gasp. Whatever was soaring through the air was becoming more identifiable by the second, and at the same time more confusing. People from all Houses were shouting their guesses, but Vesperra was thinking hard and keeping hers to herself. After no more than ten seconds, a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, skimmed over the treetops of the forest and soared toward them. It was pulled through the air by a dozen winged, elephant-sized, palomino horses.

There was a small, collective gasp (at least in Vesperra's area) and the first three rows of students backed up to move out of the way as the horses began a dive at a tremendous speed. The carriage landed a second after the horses did, and their hooves (which appeared to be larger than dinner plates) hit the ground and created a huge _crash_, making several people jump. Bouncing on its wheels a few more times, the carriage was eventually still. Everyone's eyes were on it.

Before registering anything else that happened, Vesperra saw the horses toss their heads and noticed their large, fiery red eyes—at which she realized that these were Abraxans. The first thought that came to her mind was how rare they were, and how useful their hair was in potion-making. A single strand from one of their manes would be worth five Galleons, at the least.

But then a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, snapping Vesperra back into a non-potion-related reality. He bent forward and fumbled with something, then unfolded a set of golden steps. As he sprang back as though greeting royalty, a high-heeled black shoe emerged—though she took a few seconds to even tell that it was a shoe, since it she probably could have fit her entire body in it if she curled up. It was followed by an unnaturally large woman, who could have likely tied with Hagrid on their size.

Many students gasped again, and anyone who didn't still went wide-eyed at the sight of her. Looking around at all of the dumbstruck Hogwarts students, she stepped forward and allowed her face to be illuminated by the light that was shining in through the Entrance Hall. Despite her large bone structure, she had a pretty face (by what Vesperra imagined would be general consent, not her own) with olive-toned skin; large, black eyes (nothing like Severus's, though—warm and much more liquid-looking); and a beak-ish nose (once again, not like Severus's. hers was definitely not hooked enough). The woman, who Vesperra had readily assumed to be the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, was dressed fancily in black satin and opal jewelry, her hair drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck.

Back with the teachers, even Severus was unable to look away from this woman. He had known of her, but never seen her before. She, if nothing else, was quite a novelty, though she obviously wasn't the first abnormally large human for the students to know. Dumbledore smiled and started to clap, at which his fellow staff members followed his lead, and so on with the students. Many of the shorter ones were craning their necks and apparently trying to see just how long they could take in her bizarre size for.

Pleased at the warm (though belated) welcome, she smiled graciously and walked forward to Dumbledore, each step creating a small tremor in the ground, and extended a highly-polished and decorated hand. It was odd for Severus to see the Headmaster have to look _up_ to someone, having known him for many years, and slightly less odd to see him take her hand and kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," Dumbledore grinned. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," she greeted in return. Severus wasn't surprised to hear that her voice was rather deep. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime (more like announced), waving an enormous hand behind her, where about a dozen boys and girls in their late teens stood, shivering; all of them were wearing robes of fine silk, and none of them had cloaks. Severus resisted the urge to sneer at that painfully stupid mistake. He then noticed that they all looked about as apprehensive to be at Hogwarts as he was for the delegations from Durmstrang to show up.

"'As Karkaroff arrive yet?" the woman asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

_Right, and your own students will just stay out here and freeze,_ thought Vesperra, who was watching the exchange along with everyone else. She was beginning to get over the woman's size, especially since Hagrid, Hogwarts's very own Gamekeeper, was no smaller.

"Warm up, I think," said Madam Maxime. "But ze 'orses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other—er—charges."

As though on a reflex, Vesperra and Nott turned their heads towards each other for a mutual grimace and understanding of _Oh Merlin, the Skrewts_. It also seemed that they both hoped Hagrid would be able to give them lessons on the Abraxans instead. Vesperra wondered if Madame Maxime would give him permission.

"My steeds require—er—forceful handling," said Maxime, looking doubtful of Hagrid's abilities (of course, she hadn't seen him yet). "Zey are very strong…."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling knowingly.

"Very well." She bowed slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses only drink single-malt whiskey?"

"I will be attended to." Dumbledore gave a bow as well, and Madame Maxime automatically beckoned her students to follow her with a "Come," and led them through the now parting crowd up to the stone steps and into the Entrance Hall.

"Good Lord, just look at them," muttered Vesperra disgustedly as she watched them leave, noticing that many of them were haughtily avoiding looking at the Hogwarts students and holding up the hems of their robes so as to not get mud on them. "It's like they're _all_ Malfoy."

"Twelve more Malfoys here?" said Nott, quietly enough that only Vesperra was able to hear him. "I don't think I can take it." She turned her head slightly to smirk at him, and he smirked back before returning his gaze to the front, his face relaxing. "Well, it can only get better from here. How do you suppose the Durmstrang lot'll get here?"

"Something different, definitely." She didn't understand why most other people were watching the skies, as Abraxans were bred in France and therefore were fitting as traveling animals for Beauxbatons, while she couldn't think of any common flying animals anywhere near Russia, where Durmstrang must have been. Unless they had dragons….

"Maybe they'll come in on giant snow-tigers or something," suggested Nott. "Or hippogriffs." And he glanced towards Malfoy.

Vesperra snorted.

They waited the next few minutes in silence, but then Vesperra started to hear an odd noise—it was hard to place at first, but was soon recognizable as a sort of muffled rumbling and sucking, like that which a sink or bathtub made when the water was sinking down the drain. Because of what she had associated the sound with, she looked immediately toward the lake, and Nott followed her eyes after a confused glance.

Upon looking at the lake, she realized at once that something was going on. The usually smooth black surface was now bubbling.

"The lake!" yelled the unmistakable voice of Lee Jordan, alerting everyone else to what she was already seeing. "Look at the lake!" The lake was now undulating, waves washing over the muddy banks and a whirlpool forming in the middle of it as though a giant plug had been pulled from the lake's floor—proving Vesperra's theory, and causing her to smirk with satisfaction. _Something's_ _coming up…._

Seconds later, something that was definitely not shaped like a bubble began to rise out of the center of the whirlpool, something that looked like a long, black pole. It didn't take long for her to put two and two together, so Vesperra didn't need to wait another minute to know what it was.

"A ship," she muttered under her breath to Nott as much as to herself, awestruck, "they've got a bloody ship…."

Slowly, magnificently, it continued to rise until it was completely above the water, at which there was a great sloshing noise. The entire thing was very impressive, with the old-fashioned, skeletal look about it. They soon heard a second _slosh_, this time from the anchor being lowered (which Vesperra found a bit odd, since it had come from under the lake anyway—but to hell with logic, it was magic), as well as the _thud_ of a plank being dropped onto the bank.

Her breath hitched with treacherous anticipation as she watched people disembark from the ship, so far only their silhouettes visible in the dim evening light. A ways behind her, back with the rest of the teachers, Severus's breath had done the same, but in a much worse way. He didn't feel quite sure that Vesperra wasn't aware of it, as they tended to have sort of a connection when it came to things like this, but he was standing very stiffly, his knuckles turning white as he folded his arms and gripped them tighter and tighter. There was a sense of dread filling him, currently at throat level, and he wished, however childish it was to do so, that he could just put it off another day, another hour, or just another minute.

But less than a minute later, the procession of those from Durmstrang drew so near that they walked into the light streaming from the Great Hall, and hardly twenty feet away was now the old, familiar face of someone whom Severus hadn't seen or spoken to in a very long time: Igor Karkaroff.

* * *

**I'm so glad that I finally got to this part! After the next chapter, things will only get more and more serious from there. Severus being sort of immature and going to Dumbledore was fun to write, as was everything else (especially the entire Sherlock thing.) **

**For those of you who have read the Sherlock Holmes novels or like the movies or the show on BBC, who do you think would be Sherlock in Vesperra and Severus's relationship? I'd like to see what you say.**

**Even if you don't know anything about Sherlock Holmes, I'd still like you to review. PLEASE REVIEW.**


	53. Book 4: Chapter 7

**I am happy to present another chapter. I would have been finished with this earlier, but I was forced to do a lot of things with my family today. Either way, it's here now. No need to worry.**

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews. Also, I designed a shirt for this fanfic with a picture of Severus and Vesperra, and it's available for purchase on my Redbubble account. The link to that is in my profile.**

* * *

"Dumbledore!" That hearty voice hit the air like a reverberating drum—definitely not as deep, but hearing it again after so many years felt like a dull blow. Though his hair was now short, sleek, and silver instead of long and black, his voice hadn't changed but perhaps a single octave lower. Fruity and unctuous as ever, it hit the barriers of Severus's head while the inside of his mind seemed to be barricading the door and trying not to let him believe that the man was _back_.

The goatee was new as well, but it didn't strike Severus as important.

Karkaroff, who was dressed in thick layers of fur coats, walked up the slope with his arms swinging in a manner of someone who had not been here in a long time and was glad to be back. Although, his eyes remained on Dumbledore rather than looked around, as people often would when returning to a place of old memories—in fact, they were completely cold, even though he was smiling. Ah, yes—Severus remembered. _His_ smile had always been like that, the exact opposite from Vesperra's: While her smiles only reached her eyes (or at least first), his never did. And unlike him and Vesperra, Karkaroff seemed to feel the need to fake happiness instead of hide it.

"How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?" he called, approaching the Headmaster. Severus, whose eyes were narrowed and following each of the man's steps (despite the fact that he'd prefer Karkaroff wasn't here at all and should have been avoiding catching his gaze), wondered if it was still an act. It seemed likely that the man would hold a grudge against Dumbledore for having been on the Wizengamot during the trial that decided his original stay in Azkaban.

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," replied Dumbledore. Karkaroff soon reached him and shook the Headmaster's hands with both of his own. Severus didn't have to wonder about Dumbledore, because he already knew that the man didn't entirely trust Karkaroff. It pleased him to know that the old man wasn't a complete fool who trusted any-and-everyone no matter what. The two of them could agree on one thing: Igor Karkaroff was and always has been a coward, and therefore could not be trusted.

But of course, Dumbledore was still going to be polite. Hell, Severus imagined that the man would greet Voldemort himself with a handshake if the latter didn't fire a curse the moment he saw him.

"Dear old Hogwarts," said Karkaroff, now looking up at the castle and smiling again. The lack of a smile in his eyes was so obvious that Severus was sure even someone with Potter's level of intelligence would have been able to tell that he was faking it and know he wasn't completely trustworthy. His teeth were still rather yellow (easily distinguishable from a distance, anyway), which led Severus to believe that he had never gotten off the habit of smoking pipes and drinking Vodka. A couple glances across the towers of the castle and the glowing windows was apparently all it took for him to take it all in. "How good it is to be here, how good…. Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…."

This confused Severus for a few moments, as it was strange that a Headmaster (of any school, really) would focus on a single student (and more personally and openly than Dumbledore did with Potter, of course), and also in that the name Viktor sounded familiar—but he couldn't place where or when he'd heard it.

* * *

Down with all the students, Vesperra had gone through the same momentary lapse of confusion, and frowned at Karkaroff. She, of course, didn't know anything about the Headmaster of Durmstrang, and so there was far less for her to base her confusion on, but she still found the whole thing odd.

However, the next few seconds cleared it right up for both of them. Karkaroff, with a sort of fond smile, turned and beckoned forward one of his students, who stepped forward. He was faceless until he passed and walked into the light, allowing her and a few hundred others a glimpse of a sallow-skinned face, a prominent curved nose, and thick eyebrows. Vesperra automatically associated his nose and skin with herself and Severus, and Severus did the same when he saw the boy. The eyebrows, though, combined with the nose, reminded her of her father.

And at once, there were scattered, excited whispers everywhere. Everyone began walking back toward the castle behind the rest of the Durmstrang lot, and the teachers followed at the rear. She felt a soft tap on her arm—on the side that Nott was, and obviously with the back of his hand. When she turned to him, her face still knotted in confusion, she saw that he was smiling incredulously and pointing at the Durmstrang boy.

"It's—_that's Viktor Krum_!" he breathed, looking from her back to him, stretching his neck a bit to try and get a better look at him as he did.

Clearly he was someone famous, but Vesperra didn't know for what. _Viktor Krum—I've definitely heard that name before…. where…?_ A second or so passed and her brain simply couldn't find the vague memory from which she recalled that name, and so she reluctantly gave up.

"Who's Viktor Krum?" she asked, her voice dull and almost purposely betraying the fact that, while over half the school was freaking out around them, Krum's identity was of little importance to her.

She had half-expected Nott to freeze, then turn slowly around with his expression one of mingled shock and horror—but he merely turned, raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, and then said, "He's the Seeker for Bulgaria's Quidditch Team—the most famous Seeker in the world, I think."

_Oh._ Vesperra's brow unfurrowed, but not all the way. Now her frown was one of apathy and slight annoyance; she pursed her lips, and turned her head back so that she was just looking ahead—even when she continued to talk to him.

"Hm. I suppose that's why I haven't heard of him, then—I don't give a damn about Quidditch. And I never pegged you as the sort of person who liked it all too much, either."

"Well, I don't really get that involved in anything Quidditch-related, but I'm interested enough to know who _Viktor—effing—Krum_ is…." He exhaled sharply in a laugh, clearly mocking Vesperra's lack of knowledge of useless trivia; though she knew it was a joke, she frowned.

"I'm not going to pay attention to something I don't care about, am I?" she snapped, throwing him somewhat of a side-glare. There was a pause, where Vesperra started walking up the marble steps that led into the castle and tried to block out the sound of other students—both girls and boys—talking excitedly to each other and planning how to get Krum's autograph.

"Well—er, what… _do_ you care about then?" said Nott, sounding as though he was trying to speak carefully now that she had gone into standoffish-mode. Could he have been _sorry_?

Several answers to that question flitted through her mind: _Severus, my intelligence, my classes, Severus, potions, Damien, Severus…._ It didn't strike her how little she cared about, since she had already been not-painfully-at-all aware.

"Not that many things," admitted Vesperra. "Mostly getting my schoolwork done and plotting on how best to spite Malfoy." At that, Nott smirked, but he didn't say anything else.

In a way, she was lying, because she would have counted Severus as many things. He almost _was_ her care, and she felt sure that if she had never met him or even had him as a teacher, she would have ended up completely void of feelings or any kind of sympathy.

But this was too personal of a topic to continue on with Nott, so she didn't say any more on the matter. Glancing around as they entered the Entrance Hall, Vesperra was actually quite disgusted at what she saw. Still, so many people appeared excited beyond belief that Viktor Krum was here. Many girls, including Tracey, and Daphne, were absolutely squealing with delight and jumping up to try to look at him. Just as so many girls had been obsessed over Lockhart two years before, they were undeniably smitten.

"Good Lord," said Vesperra, her voice quiet and just on the edge of anger, and her jaw tightening. Nott, as though his ears had twitched like a dog's at her having swore, looked at her quickly and curiously. "Do you realize what's happening?"

She paused, but it was only when she threw Nott an expectant look that he realized she was waiting for him to answer.

"Er… what?"

"Krum." Her voice now came out lower, though still like acid. Just a more deep-seated acid. Vesperra jerked her head sharply in the Quidditch celebrity's direction. "He looks _a lot_ like me. Same skin, same nose—and it doesn't take a genius to look at his expression and know that he hates social interaction. And yet, everyone _loves_ him, even Davis and Greengrass—even _Malfoy's_ smirking—oh, I suppose it's just because he's _famous_. It still wouldn't matter if I had amazing Quidditch skills, though, because they'd all still hate me. This doesn't make any bloody sense."

Normally, Vesperra would have kept a rant like this to herself and have it completely inside her own head, but with Nott around, it was easier to say it all out loud, as she knew he was going to keep it to himself. And he was one of the few people who she thought would actually agree with her about this. She didn't like complaining, especially not about the sort of things that made her feel weak, like she couldn't handle what was thrown at her… but it just aggravated her _so_ much, and she felt the need to say it out loud. Vesperra could have just as easily said all this to an inanimate object, but carrying something around and talking to it would have just attracted attention.

"I…" Nott didn't seem to know how to respond. They were now in the Great Hall and walking toward the Slytherin table, so the other Slytherins were getting in earshot and anything he wanted to say would have to be said within about twenty seconds. "I think the difference is that they know you. They know about more of your qualities than just the things you're good at, and you're already—hated—by a lot of people. It only makes sense to them to push you even lower."

As he walked away from her and found a seat next to Blaise, Vesperra grimaced, but couldn't help but be impressed with what he'd said. She sat down where there was usually a large gap of empty seats (which almost always remained empty during meals, as everyone avoided sitting directly next to her)—except now the dozen boys from Durmstrang were sitting there, leading her to figure that they'd be sitting there all year.

They still had their layers of furs on, so Vesperra had to scoot over a bit with her plate in order to have a half a foot or so of space on either side. All the while, she was dreading the awkwardness of introductions, which would inevitably take place because people simply couldn't sit together for an entire year without at least one of them opting to introduce themselves and ask for the other's name. Why the Durmstrang lot had to choose _this_ section of the Slytherin table, she didn't know, but it was rather annoying that she had to deal with this. Perhaps the most annoying part of it was that Tracey and Daphne appeared to be struggling to hold back giggles of joy from being near _Viktor Krum_, but that might have been tied with the fact that Malfoy, Pansy, and Crabbe and Goyle were looking extremely smug about all of this.

_Maybe it'll distract him from me,_ she hoped. But it was a stupid thing to hope, she then thought, as it was more likely that Malfoy would use this time to his advantage and upgrade Vesperra-Bullying Time to _Around the World_.

From where she was sitting, Vesperra could see Malfoy lean forward in his seat, grinning. "I'm a huge fan, Mister Krum—do you mind if I call you Viktor?—you might remember me, or at least my father—he and I were in the Top Box the day of the World Cup."

Unable to help her damned curiosity, Vesperra leaned forward so that she could look over down her side of the table and see Krum's expression. His thick eyebrows were arched and he didn't seem to be smiling, which she was so far glad to see.

"I might haff seen you," he affirmed in a low grunt. "But I'm not good vith faces."

She recognized the cold tone in his voice—the tone that plainly said, _"I don't know you; I don't want to talk to you."_ Malfoy's smirk faltered and he leaned back, disappointed that kissing up to Krum hadn't worked. Satisfied that he must have realized he wouldn't be able to use Krum to gain more power (socially, at least), Vesperra leaned back as well.

While waiting for the next few minutes to pass and for everyone to sit down so that dinner could begin, she took a few seconds to observe the Durmstrang boys—and it was actually a bit amusing to see them all so interested in the enchanted ceiling and the golden plates and goblets that the Hogwarts students had all grown so accustomed to. They had now taken off their furs, revealing robes of a deep blood red. Vesperra then found it ironic that they were sitting at the Slytherin table.

Taking a quick, sweeping glance around the rest of the Great Hall, she saw that the Beauxbatons lot had sat down at the Ravenclaw table—and she envied the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who wouldn't be forced to sit with people they've never even seen before in their life. Otherwise, she was occupied with idle thoughts of what was to come next, how this year would play out, and what she was going to ask Severus later that night.

Soon, she was snapped out of her mind-cave ('imagination' was too immature and uncreative of a word) by a deep voice from her left: "Vot exactly do these do?"

Vesperra remained still at first, still partially out of it, and she didn't realize that the boy had been addressing _her _until the next second. Alert, her pupils dilated, and she turned her head to the boy. She supposed she couldn't really be calling them boys, though; they were all at least seventeen, which officially made them men. Except the one sitting next to her looked a little younger, which was probably because of his boyish face. His nose was very round at the end, his chin was prominent, he was only a bit more tanned than Viktor Krum, and his hair was the sort of cut that Vesperra knew Muggles generally associated with military. That was probably a coincidence, though.

He was holding up a golden platter, turning it in his hand interestedly. She dismissed the urge to completely ignore him and instead said, in a flat voice and only half-looking at him, "They connect to the dishes down in the kitchens, so the food'll appear on them once the House Elves are finished cooking."

"Hm. It vood be nice if it vorked that vay at Durmstrang," he muttered to himself, his accent so thick when in that volume that Vesperra almost couldn't understand him. Her hand was holding up one side of her face, and she was already scowling (out of habit) at her plate again, returning to her mind-cave once more, when she was distracted by his voice again.

"Vot's your name?" he asked, looking over and a bit downwards at her. He was smiling gregariously, and at that, she could only think of how he wouldn't be smiling if he _knew_ her, and how Malfoy would surely notice him and point that out at any second.

This time, she waited a couple seconds on purpose, partly because she resented having to interact normally with someone (there were few people with whom she was comfortable with doing that, and all of the ways she had met those people had been rather unconventional), and partly because she wanted to revert to her mind-cave. But once again, she wasn't going to completely ignore him.

"D'Monicas," was what her first instinct told her to say, because she didn't want a person she'd only just met to call her by her first name, but it still would have been weird for him only to know her last name, so she continued without thinking, "Vesperra D'Monicas."

"But we all call her Grease-perra."

_Of-bloody-course it has to happen now, dammit…._ Malfoy was leaning over the table again, grinning in the way that got Vesperra's blood to boil with anger every time. The Durmstrang boy looked back at him, frowning in confusion, as were a lot of the others from Durmstrang, including Viktor Krum. _Well, I should have expected this. I didn't think I could have gone very long around them before they started hating me too…._ She was more annoyed, actually, about the fact that they were all paying attention to her now.

"Vy?" he said, frowning, and glancing back to her.

"Have you seen the state of her hair?" laughed Pansy derisively, gesturing to her. Vesperra was now sitting very stiffly, looking down at her plate with a hardened scowl and keeping her hands folded. She was mentally preparing herself for a full hour of laughter and insults, all directed at her, and forcing herself to keep her hands steady and not fling them around someone's throat.

The boy glanced back at her for hardly a second before resuming looking at Pansy. Surprisingly, he let out a short, slightly guttural laugh. "Have you seen the state of _our Headmaster's_ hair?" He jerked his head towards the Staff Table, which Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime were only just approaching, as they had been behind everyone. Vesperra noticed that Filch was up there, setting up extra chairs, and she was bemused to see that he was adding four instead of just two. "He actually puts animal fat in it, and I vood know, because _I_ had to bring it to him vile ve vere on the ship."

He ended the sentence with another short laugh and a look towards Pansy that furthermore exemplified his point—the greasiness of Vesperra's hair didn't bother him, and he wasn't going to take advantage of a stranger's flaws just to bully them. All the other Durmstrang boys regarded Pansy with the same look, which Vesperra was glad for—but not overly so. The boy that had talked to her turned around once more, as though nothing had interrupted them.

"Alek Dubranov," he told her. His tone implied that he was both smiling (possibly _leering_) and starting to extend his hand, which she could tell though she wasn't looking directly at him. Apparently (finally) realizing that she hadn't wanted to talk to him at all in the first place and that she definitely did _not_ want to shake his hand, despite the fact that he'd practically just stood up for her, he pulled it back, then shrugged looked over in the other direction to talk to a Durmstrang friend.

A shift in the angle of her neck to the table gave her a view of the reflection of Malfoy's face in her plate, and it was not pretty—that is to say, as it was _never_ pretty, that he looked rather disdainful. But Vesperra had no time to think about that, because all three of the Headmasters (well, one Head_mistress_) were now up at their seats, and the Great Hall had fallen silent.

* * *

Severus could easily hear the sudden whispers and quiet shrieks of "Viktor Krum—_THE_ Viktor Krum?" and "Bloody hell, I didn't know he was still at school!", and he soon remembered who Krum was. _International Quidditch star. Right. And he's Karkaroff's favorite, even more than Potter is to Dumbledore, absolutely perfect._

As the staff made their way up the grassy slope and back into the castle, Severus was still in slight denial that Karkaroff was even here, and was trying to avoid looking at him as well as Moody. However, he couldn't help but notice that the mad ex-Auror actually had his magical eye set on Karkaroff, fixing the back of his head with a glare that Severus would not want to be on the receiving end of (not that he thought it would be any more intimidating than his own menacing glares; just creepier, because of that damn eye). It made sense that he would, as Moody never trusted anyone and Karkaroff was an ex-Death Eater who had actually gone to Azkaban and got out only because of a bit of information about other Death Eaters. Karkaroff was the man whom both Severus and Moody needed to keep an eye on this year, if anyone.

Quickly, though, he looked away from Moody so as to avoid his eye should the man decide to move it, and then looked only straight ahead. His eyes sought out Vesperra in the crowd of students, which was actually quite easy, even though she was up at the front. Her hair color, height, and even the shape of her shoulders had become so ingrained in his mind that he could identify her in any scenario, no problem. Severus wasn't surprised to see that she was walking next to Theodore Nott, and he was a little glad to see that she was talking to him; though he knew the boy wasn't her friend and would probably never be able to fall into that category (not according to Vesperra, anyway), he liked to see that not _everyone_ was completely horrible to her. He didn't think that she would ever believe that she was likeable enough for anyone but him and Damien to want to be her friend, though, and so it seemed likely that she was going to keep this boy at several arms' length even if he did want to be friends with her.

But he couldn't honestly say that it saddened him in any sense, because he'd prefer to have her all to himself. He tended to be a selfish person.

While Severus's eyes were trained on the small bit of Vesperra that he could see from this distance, his ears were still in the immediate area and he could hear all that the teachers were saying to each other. What stood out the most, however quiet it was in relation to all the other voices in the vicinity, was the conversation between Dumbledore and Karkaroff. They weren't even speaking about anything of importance—just the general "How have you been" and "I hope all this'll live up to their expectations" sort of stuff. But he just dreaded that, at any moment, Karkaroff was going to want to speak to _him_.

He already knew, from his peripheral vision and a couple furtive glances, that the man had definitely seen him and recognized him. Severus's features hadn't changed much over thirteen years or so—but his hair was definitely shorter and his face more lined. He found it surprising that Karkaroff hadn't asked Dumbledore about him, but then again, he might just not have heard it.

When the staff made it into the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons girls, who had chosen their seats at the Ravenclaw table, all stood up at the sight of their Headmistress. At that, he resisted the urge to sneer along with the bit of laughter that rang out at that foreign display of courtesy. Respect was something he felt was very important, especially when it came to students and professors, but that just wasn't necessary in Britain, and it had probably been a hundred years since people actually observed those traditions there. The girls didn't sit down until their Headmistress had done so up at the Staff Table.

As for those from Durmstrang, he noticed that they were sitting at the Slytherin table all around the fourth years, one of them directly next to Vesperra. Viktor Krum was only a few seats down from her… he highly doubted that she cared, though.

Luckily, Karkaroff was directly to Dumbledore's right, which put Severus three seats away from him, separated by a currently unoccupied seat and McGonagall. Having so far avoided any contact or even acknowledgement with him, he was relieved. Once everyone was seated (except for Dumbledore, of course, who remained standing), the Great Hall went silent, waiting for him to speak.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," he said, beaming around at the foreign students with genuine cheerfulness, as ever. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

_Merlin, he sounds like he's the host of some inn,_ thought Severus. Down at the Slytherin table, Vesperra's thoughts were along the same lines. Easily distinct in the silent Hall, there was a derisive laugh that caused her and a few others to twist quickly in their seats to see where it had come from: one of the Beauxbatons girls, who was shivering and still clutching a muffler around her head. Dumbledore, however, while he must have heard, paid her no mind and continued, acting as though he hadn't.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The Headmaster sat down, and Karkaroff automatically leaned forward to continue his conversation with him, which left Severus glad that he would likely be free for at least this part of the evening.

Also at once, the plates in front of everyone filled up with food—and this time with many dishes that were obviously foreign amongst the usual stuff. Around Vesperra, she noticed that her fellow Slytherins had mixed reactions towards the new food: Crabbe and Goyle hardly gave a second's consideration before digging into everything, no matter what it was; Pansy, Blaise, and Malfoy were wrinkling her noses at what looked like some sort of fish and a weird salad; and most of the others were looking curiously at the Slavic and French food, giving it experimental prods with their forks and spoons. Although, the reaction of nearly all of the Durmstrang boys to what was foreign to them was apparently being open to try most of it.

The funny part was that those three that saw the Slavic food as disgusting wouldn't dare saying anything potentially negative about it with about twelve boys—no, _men_—at the table, who were from Durmstrang and all bigger than them. Especially not with one of them being the _famous_ Viktor Krum. Vesperra found their expressions of internal struggle amusing.

Vesperra took this as an opportunity to try some of the foreign stuff, as she really wasn't picky when it came to food. As much as her lack of feelings besides anger and wicked satisfaction (on the outside, at least) or human interaction made her seem less than human, she did, indeed, both need and like food. Hunger meant inability to focus properly, and _that_ meant her going mad.

She found that she rather liked some of the French pasta and the fish, whatever it was, but a bowl of a blood-red soup sat in front of her for longer than anything else had, and her hesitation was possibly the cause of the smell that was coming from it. Staring down at it, she used her spoon to ladle up some of the stuff and let it fall thickly back into the bowl.

"Borscht."

Turning her head—but not her body, Vesperra looked at Alek (she had already forgotten his last name: too Slavic and unimportant of information), one eyebrow raised.

"The soup, it's borscht," he repeated, gesturing to her bowl. "It's mostly beets—you probably voodn't like it, haffing grown up in Briton. But it vood taste better vith potatoes, trust me." Without waiting for her to respond, Alek smiled again and returned to his own food, leaving Vesperra to regard him with a frown and inwardly pursed lips for a moment before looking back to her bowl of what she had just learned was borscht.

_Hm…. Beets._ She didn't think she'd ever had beets before, so she didn't know how she'd like them. A bit reluctantly, she took Alek's advice and reached her arm over to stab a potato with her fork and bring it back to the plate before trying it.

Okay, so it didn't taste wonderful—and that was actually a pretty nice description of it. The aftertaste left in her mouth after just one spoonful was awful in no describable way, but stuffing a chunk of potato into her mouth did help.

About twenty minutes into the feast, Hagrid sidled into the Great Hall from a door behind the Staff Table, which Vesperra knew led to the staffroom. He looked as though he had been burnt, especially on his hand, which was very heavily bandaged. Considering his size, he hardly went unnoticed by anyone as he slid into his seat—and she even heard a collective groan from the Slytherins around her.

"Damn, the Skrewts haven't killed him yet?" said Malfoy disappointedly, frowning up at the Staff Table.

"Oh God—_oh God_, you don't think they've gotten completely out of control, do you?" said Pansy, wearing a face of mingled dread and worry.

"If they have," said Malfoy, "he can't _possibly_ expect us to keep going down to observe and take care of them…."

"You know he will anyway," said Daphne seriously, leaning forward into the conversation and temporarily away from the one she had already been having with Tracey. "But look at it this way: if they start trying to eat us, you don't have to run the fastest—just faster than Grease-perra."

The table didn't quite erupt with laughter as it might have, as there were now other people sitting there who _didn't_ hate her, but those who actually went to Hogwarts did laugh, some sounding less pleased than others. She supposed that, since the matter of the Skrewts was a rather serious one, not many people would be completely comfortable with joking about when they were going to start getting even more dangerous. And if it hadn't been directed towards her, Vesperra would have found that remark clever.

"Vot are you talking about?" asked the boy from Durmstrang who was sitting to the left of Alek, staring curiously at Malfoy.

It was Daphne who spoke up, though, once again pausing her conversation with Tracey: "Hagrid—you know, the abnormally large man over there—teaches Care of Magical Creatures, and he has these things…. They're called Blast-Ended Skrewts, and they're bloody _monsters_. We're pretty sure that it's illegal both to breed them and use them in our classes…."

"And Dumbledore lets him do this?" He turned and looked slowly and uneasily up at the Headmaster of Hogwarts, as though he was suddenly deciding that he didn't trust the man. Vesperra didn't blame him, as, though she did trust Dumbledore, she found a lot of his decisions to be extremely stupid.

Thanks to the presence of both the foreign students and the foreign food, which were topics of interest (and good distractions) for everyone else, not every minute was devoted to attempts to wear down Vesperra's self-esteem. She was able to eat in more peace than usual, and Alek luckily didn't continue to try to make conversation with her—he did, however, occasionally give her what were unmistakably leers. Her mind hardly registered them as flirtatious, though they probably were.

Soon after Hagrid had arrived, so did two men whom Vesperra had never seen before. It was obvious that they were here specifically for the Triwizard Tournament, and so they must have been with the Ministry—but she didn't waste more than a few seconds on looking at them before returning to her meal. Hardly anyone around her (whom she could hear, anyway) mentioned anything or seemed to know who they were, either—or at least one of them. She heard something that sounded like "Bagman" amongst the sparse whispering. Instead of burning with curiosity as she might have been, however, she was content with waiting until Dumbledore explained.

Up at the Staff Table, Severus was grateful for the fact that Karkaroff had still not made any attempt to lean over and re-introduce himself. He was even gladder for the fact that the Ministry representatives, Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, had arrived, as that meant there was another person between him and Karkaroff rather that just an empty chair.

It was lucky for him that Crouch had situated himself on the left side of Dumbledore, because he was similar to Moody in his hatred for Dark Magic and wasn't all too unlikely to have held a grudge against Severus for escaping the law—or at least distrust him. Bagman, who he knew was a retired (and still _very_ famous) Quidditch star, was looking almost overly pleased and rather like a child. He was briefly reminded of Lockhart.

Severus was eating most of the foreign food as casually as the rest of it, as he'd traveled around Europe quite a lot in his past years (both when he was a Death Eater, and later when he became a Potions Master) and had gotten used to all sorts of things. The only thing he could never get used to was how light French food was, and how it almost seemed to make him hungrier.

Soon, the second course of dinner started, and the main dishes spontaneously replaced themselves with desserts. While looking out at the Great Hall, he absentmindedly scooped up some of the French pastries into his mouth. His eyes found Vesperra again for a few seconds, and he couldn't help but wonder how she was liking the food.

And she liked it a lot, actually. The French were apparently _very _creative with how they used their chocolate…. There was a stuffed carp danish from Bulgaria, though, that she all but pushed away after having only one bite. Fish really didn't go well with cream—it just _didn't_. It was strange to see the boys from Durmstrang all eat it like it was a delicacy—but it wasn't surprising that Crabbe and Goyle didn't appear to be picky at all. Hell, they hardly looked at what they were eating before stuffing it in their mouths. She could have put a brick covered in cream in front of them and they'd have eaten it within a few seconds.

About a half an hour passed, and the plates were once again empty. Like the start-of-Year feasts, everyone knew that this meant there were about to be some important announcements, and so there was an automatic fall of silence across the Hall as the Headmaster stood up. But it was a good sort of silence, and the tension that subsequently filled the room was pleasant. Students were leaning forward or backward in their seat to see Dumbledore better, as though that would help them hear, and many others were wearing manic-looking smiles. Vesperra swore she could hear the small, distant tapping of everyone's collective heartbeat.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at everyone. Vesperra's heart wasn't quite drumming as others' must have been, but she still felt like there should have been dramatic music playing for this. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation"—there was a smattering of polite applause, almost none of which was from the Slytherin table—"and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

Apparently the second man was rather famous, because his round of applause was much larger and included a loud whoop from someone at the Gryffindor table. Had it not been for the whoop, Vesperra might have guessed that it could just as easily have been because Bagman seemed much more likeable than the other man. He acknowledged the applause with a jovial (possibly slightly inebriated) wave of his hand, while Crouch remained stiff. The latter of them had a severe look about him, and not even in a similar way to Severus's—Vesperra already disliked him. Well, she decided that she disliked both of them. She continued to wonder what Crouch was known for, if anything, and intended to add that to the list of questions to ask Severus that night.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements of the Triwizard Tournament," continued Dumbledore, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

Vesperra noticed many people, unsurprisingly, around her lean forward with ever more attentiveness at the mention of the word "champions." So did she, but only slightly; and it was more of her muscles stiffening from the sudden irrational desire to try to compete in the tournament filling her once again. Dumbledore seemed to have noticed it as well, as would have been expected, for he then smiled and said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

The caretaker moved out of the far, obscure corner of the Great Hall that he'd been lurking in and approached Dumbledore, carrying a great wooden chest. Encrusted with jewels, it looked extremely old, which triggered an explosion of excited whispers and curiosity as to what could be inside and how it could be relevant. When Filch set the chest carefully on the table in front of the Headmaster, he hobbled away, and Dumbledore cleared his throat and started to speak once more:

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

Danger suddenly seemed more appealing than it had to Vesperra in her entire life. Being rashly brave and running toward danger was the Gryffindor thing to do, but Slytherins were the ones that were best at coping with it. She knew that she'd be able to cope with it, should the need arise. And magical prowess and deduction were no problem for her.

Clearly, it wasn't only her who was feeling this way. The silence in the Hall had become thicker since the end of Dumbledore's sentence, as though no one was even breathing anymore. Conscious of this, she checked—yes, she was holding her breath, and she hadn't died.

"As you know," Dumbledore went on calmly, "three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Brandishing his wand dramatically (or so it seemed, at least, with the air still so thick with anticipation), Dumbledore tapped it three times on top of the casket. Slowly, and sounding ages—centuries, definitely—old, the lid creaked open, so far revealing nothing. He reached inside with one thin, long-fingered hand, and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. Inside of it were dancing blue flames, which was about the only thing that made the cup look out of the ordinary. Well, _that_, and the fact hanging over all of them that _this_ thing was the impartial selector. That in itself was pretty remarkable, if not just plain confusing.

After he closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully (Vesperra figured it must be fragile after centuries of use) on top of it, where everyone of at least average height could easily see it, he said, "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as a champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet." (_Oh. Dammit, that should have been obvious,_ thought Vesperra in frustration at herself.) "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage students yield to temptation,"—There were audible groans around Vesperra, as well as an inward one in her own mind, coming from the defiant part of herself that she tried to keep locked up in times like this—"I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly." Dumbledore's voice was now more serious, nearing on grave; it caused many students to shift in their seats, a bit disconcerted. "Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name in the goblet. Now," he said, his voice returning to its usual cheerfulness, "I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

It was a second or so before there was any movement at all, and then everyone simultaneously started to twist in their seats and remove their legs from under their tables so that they could get up. As she did, Vesperra looked towards the Staff Table, her eyes frantically searching Severus out for no reason in particular—they briefly caught each other's gaze in a nonverbal agreement that they wouldn't be going to sleep without talking first. And with that, she blinked and looked away, following the rest of the students to the doors to the Entrance Hall.

* * *

He didn't watch her leave, but instead tried to hurry up and leave the Great Hall as soon as possible so he could return to his office and talk to her, for she clearly had a lot on her mind she wanted to talk about. A few feet away, Karkaroff and Dumbledore were grasping each other's wrists, bidding each other goodnight, and then the former walked straight past Severus on his way off the platform to lead his students back to the ship. They were very briefly only inches from each other, and Severus was left confused as to why Karkaroff had said nothing yet (but grateful nevertheless). Farther down the Staff Table, Moody was also leaving in that direction, rather than through the staffroom—and his magical eye was fixed on Karkaroff's head.

Supposing that the ex-Auror just wanted to get near enough to look the man over, Severus didn't stay to watch the possible confrontation. Karkaroff was a coward, and therefore he'd likely appear much more nervous in the face of Mad-Eye Moody. Part of him wanted to see what transpired, but the larger, more rational part told him that he'd do best to avoid it completely.

And so, he left through the staffroom with the intention to whip out his journal the moment he stepped into his office and heard the door shut behind him.

* * *

Dumbledore's surprisingly not-so-cryptic (unlike his usual mannerisms) warning didn't seem to have much of an effect on the students. As Vesperra walked to the Entrance Hall with the Slytherins, leaving the Durmstrang lot back at the table waiting for Karkaroff, a lot of what she heard was talk from people still wanting to compete in the tournament, more so from those who were actually underage.

"An Age Line should be easy for you to get around, huh, Grease-perra?" said Malfoy, who had just worked his way through the crowd and sidled up to her (actually alone, without Crabbe and Goyle). There was mock-friendliness in his cold voice, and he was speaking loudly, so as to be heard over the rest of the chatter, and he had clearly been looking forward to saying this. It annoyed Vesperra, who scowled automatically at his presence, that he wanted attention so badly. "I mean, all you'd need would be an Aging Potion, and you can brew that in no time, right?"

_That's probably the only time I'll ever hear Malfoy complimenting me,_ she thought ironically. _I guess I should relish it while it lasts._ A few seconds passed in which she _didn't_ actually take it to appreciate the fake compliment, but instead where they walked through the threshold that separated the Entrance and Great Hall—and where Vesperra donned a bitter, condescending look to throw at the white-blonde prat next to her.

"Merlin, Malfoy, I may loathe every fiber of your being, but I've still never pegged you as quite that daft," she growled, her lip curling. His grin fell slightly. "_Dumbledore_ set up that Age Line. Do you honestly think it would be weak enough to be fooled by an Aging Potion?"

"Why not try anyway?" said Malfoy, cocking his head. His grin was back. "It'd be worth the risk, wouldn't it? Eternal glory… all that prize money—"

"Oh, and of course the possibility that I'd die in the tournament, and also the fact that you'd have a Slytherin champion, so it'd just be a win-win-win situation for you, wouldn't it?" snapped Vesperra, saying it all before Malfoy could. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him with such intense loathing that, if looks could kill, everyone in the Entrance Hall would have been dead. "You're not horrible at potion-making—why don't you brew your own Aging Potion and take the risk yourself? I'd love to see what happens to you. But don't expect me to do it, because, unlike those two ogres you hang around with,"—She gestured to Crabbe and Goyle, who had just appeared behind Malfoy, apparently having lost track of him when he left them to come talk to his enemy—"I'm not an _idiot_." Vesperra only continued glaring at him long enough to see an equal amount of loathing reach his cold, gray eyes, and then immediately quickened her pace to get to the entrance to the dungeons faster.

On her way to the Slytherin Common Room, similar conversations went on around her—except they weren't spoken with contempt by both parties. Most of the people who were talking about considering entering were obviously not going to do it, and she knew that anyone who tried the Aging Potion method would definitely not get in. It was impossible. Getting into the tournament if you were underage just couldn't be done.

And however much she tried not to let it, that disappointed her.

* * *

_Halloween, again._

He knew it before he even woke up. His body was aware of it—probably because the night before had been an important one, and his brain had registered that as the day before Halloween. Also probably because he had been thinking about it the night before, during his conversation with Vesperra, and up until the very last second that he had been conscious.

They had talked a considerable amount last night, as she had had a lot of questions. One of them was simply asking him to tell her about Karkaroff: what he was like, if Severus used to know him, if there was anything important about him she should know…. And at that, he had thought, _Oh, she's good._ She really had a knack for being able to tell if and when a person was untrustworthy or whether someone needed to keep an eye on them. Thinking back to her first year, when she had been able to sense that there was something _evil_ inside Quirrell's turban, he had wondered if it might be a magical talent of hers.

Severus had told her all that he could without giving away what he couldn't possibly tell her—but he didn't completely lie about past affiliation with him. He had mentioned that he knew him for a short time, but not personally. Other than that, though, everything was straightforward and she was given the full story—of Karkaroff having been a Death Eater, then being sent to Azkaban, then getting out by giving the Ministry names of other Death Eaters. He had told her that the man, as she must have judged by how he had managed to get out of Azkaban, that he was a coward and that where his loyalties lied depended on where he was safest—so he would be unpredictable once Voldemort inevitably returned. With that, he had advised her to avoid him if she could help it, but—not that he expected her to start making friends with them—that she didn't necessarily need to avoid Karkaroff's students as well, though.

All of her other questions had been about the Triwizard Tournament itself: just some specific questions about the Goblet of Fire (the magic of which she'd seemed interested in) and other aspects of it. This time, she didn't try to work any information about the tournament out of him that the teachers weren't supposed to divulge, as she now actually wanted the tasks to come as a surprise. _Perhaps she's really getting into the spirit of the tournament,_ he had thought with a wry smile. _If only a little bit._

But now, Severus certainly wasn't in any good spirits, partly because he was only half-conscious and partly because of what day it was. He had awoken with a groan—one both of tiredness and of grief. As though they had been building up in his sleep, waiting to be released the very moment his unconsciousness was, memories and thoughts of Lily flooded his mind. Some of them played out right before his eyes, and they were so vivid and sudden that they might have been solid.

This put him in a minute of shock, just lying on his side, one arm on his pillow and the other hanging over the edge of the bed, and staring at the opposite wall. It felt like it took forever to recover from being bombarded with everything he was most terribly ashamed of. He didn't notice that he was panting until what was in his line of sight really came into focus, at which he tried to relax and rolled over onto his back.

Now, he was staring upward—at nothing in particular—with an expression so simple and with so little convulsions or lines, it would have clearly expressed the worst grief any human being could ever feel—were someone there to see it. _I'm sorry, Lily,_ thought Severus. Even his mind's voice was full of grief, and it weighed him down more since he had not been thinking about this for the past week; he had not expected to feel this. He purposely focused on the stone ceiling of his room, as though trying to see beyond it and see Lily, up in the sky—or "Heaven," or the Beyond, or whatever it was that happened when people died—looking back down at him. _I'm still working on making it up to you. I love you._

After that, he only remained in his bed for another few seconds before pushing himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his face, and then throwing the sheets off—for there was another girl that he loved very much, and he was going to spend the day with her as he did all Saturdays. It was still rather early, and even though there was a good reason for students to be getting up at this time today, he still didn't expect many people to be heading down to breakfast for another hour, so he went to take a shower.

Less than twenty minutes later, when he was clean (according to his own standards), dressed, and sitting in his office grading essays, he heard a knock on his door. He only thought it could have been Vesperra for the first half-second: this was much too loud a knock to be made by her, and it was three quick jabs, not the rhythm to a Beatles song.

For a man with above-average intelligence (and having had a lot of Vesperra rub off on him where his thinking skills had needed honing), it took about two seconds to put it together: _Morning after the start-of-year feast, Moody shows up at my door—morning after the welcome feast…_ Reluctantly, he stood up and strode to the door, then opened it.

As expected (though he had hoped he was wrong), Karkaroff was on the other side, and he was wearing his coat of thick furs, almost making him look like an animal. His eyes widened slightly, and his mouth began to open, pausing for a moment before he said anything.

"Severus!" He smiled in greeting, and it still didn't reach his eyes. That made it obvious without any Legilimency being necessary: Karkaroff wasn't genuinely pleased to see him (or at least not entirely), and he clearly wasn't here just to catch up.

"Igor," said Severus flatly. He disliked calling the man by his first name, but back when he had been a spy for Voldemort, he had worked with Karkaroff a lot. They did know each other personally to an extent—well, personally enough to be on a first-name basis. Since he knew that Voldemort would surely return soon, he couldn't risk giving away anything to anyone, especially not another former Death Eater.

"It… has been a long time. Thirteen years, I think…. May I come in?" Karkaroff gestured past him, and looked like he felt a bit awkward. Or nervous. One of them must have been a cover-up for the other.

Giving a sharp nod and stepping aside as a _yes_, Severus narrowed his eyes and folded his arms, but he hid his suspicion. He kept his expression unreadable and spoke with the calmest voice he could force out of himself what seemed like several minutes after he had closed the door behind him.

"Well… what's this about, then, Igor? You wouldn't be here so early merely to say hello."

"Vot do you mean?" His voice dropped an octave, but was still somehow unctuous. And Severus had to say, the man's following fake-innocent expression would have been convincing were he not so skilled at reading faces even without magic. "Getting up early is something I am used to, as you must know—I haffen't—"

"If you really would like to know," snapped Severus, "I've been living a quiet life and teaching Potions here since we last spoke. That's all you're going to get. Now, what did you come here to talk to me about?"  
As he locked his obsidian-black eyes to Karkaroff's cold, yet unremarkable blue ones (by definition, not similar at all to Vesperra's but for the fact that they were empty), the man faltered and let his thin façade break. With a short sigh that was nearly an "ugh," he frowned up at him and said, "You olvays had a knack for doing that…. I take it you do not vont me to tell you vot _I've_ been up to?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, almost amused, and folded his arms more tightly. "Oh, I already know. You were sent to Azkaban, then got out because you were able to supply the Ministry a few names. You've been Headmaster of Durmstrang, teaching the Dark Arts, and you've become fond of Mr. Krum, apparently a prized student…. Picking favorites has always been a habit of yours, hasn't it? I wouldn't consider it a good trait for the Headmaster of a school."

Karkaroff's hand unconsciously came up to twist his silver beard, which Severus could automatically tell was a nervous tick, despite the man's frown. He didn't look quite as angry as most people did when they were insulted, though. "So you're a completely fair teacher here? Oh, but I suppose you've never been close to fond of any of your students…."

It was funny he should say that. So funny, in fact, that Severus had to suppress the urge to laugh. "You're skirting the question, Igor," he said silkily, narrowing his eyes still more. _Just like you do everything._ "And I'd rather not waste time on useless banter all morning. What are you here for?"

Once again, a pause, and the twisting of Karkaroff's beard. There was suddenly a bit of light in Karkaroff's eyes, but it wasn't happiness—it was urgency, possibly some pleading.

"I need to know vare your loyalties lie," he said, his accent decreasing in understandability as his voice lowered.

Though he had expected this (nearly down to the exact word), Severus raised an eyebrow. He was the master of deceit: He knew what he had to do to play his part right. "Meaning?"

The glint of frustration in Karkaroff's eyes at that was somewhat amusing. "Tvoyu—" He stopped himself in the middle of a Russian swear word (Severus knew that's what it was, since he knew a lot of Russian) and jerked his head irritably. "You know vot I mean, Severus. Haff you renounced the Dark Lord? Or haff you been biding your time, vaiting for his return?"

He looked and sounded more urgent now, and that frightened Severus a bit. It sounded as though he _knew_ that Voldemort would soon return and like he was very serious about it. To mask his uneasiness, he threw him a quick, piercing look—one that would have caused a particularly weak-minded student to cower in fear. Karkaroff blinked and stepped back slightly.

"What concern of it is yours?" said Severus.

"You—you must haff realized the signs!" The man paused, seeming to wait for him to respond, but when he didn't, Karkaroff swallowed and went on, "Have you felt your Dark Mark sting? I… I thought I might haff, I'm not sure, I'd rather deny it altogether…. But I needed to ask."

Several things went off in his mind at once, but they were much too organized to qualify as an explosion. Something in him screamed not to tell Karkaroff anything, and another contradicted that and said that he should tell him so that he could get closer to the man once again and spy on him for Dumbledore. There was a sudden dread that was already inside him but had simply grown with Karkaroff's question, and there was also a strange thumping against his ribs, like his heart had moved down in his chest.

But that was an odd thing to feel in response to something like—_Oh. Damn it, right now? Of course right now, the Universe hates me._ Well, it wasn't as if he didn't want Karkaroff to leave—but having his journal steadily thump faster and harder against his ribs didn't help as far as getting him to leave went, and if he _didn't_ get Karkaroff to leave, he'd soon be dealing with trying to keep the journal still and not to convulse with the effort of it.

It wasn't as if he was completely void of ideas, either, though. Severus was able to think up a small part of a plan within a second, which he began to play out immediately and make up the rest as he went.

With a pause long enough for it not to seem uncharacteristic, he said, "No, I haven't, Igor." He tried his best to hold the journal tightly against him without making awkward movements of his arm. "And as far as your other question goes, I am loyal to myself. I do what I see fit, but I don't see how my options would even be limited in the future. Now, I think we've talked enough."

Severus made toward the door, reaching halfway in a single, long stride, but Karkaroff stayed where he was standing and tried to stop him.

"Vait! You haffen't been clear—do you intend to rejoin the Death Eaters if it is ever a choice?"

Without turning around, he continued to the door and opened it. Then he turned to the side. "I do what I see fit," repeated Severus. "You may leave, now, Igor." The journal was already thumping rather hard, and it was starting to become difficult just to stay still.

Though he looked like a defiant child (despite the silver hair) and as though he might refuse and continue to interrogate him, Karkaroff straightened his hat, grimaced, and walked straight out of the office. Satisfied, Severus wasted no time in shutting the door—so loudly that there was a resounding slam—and reaching into his robes at once. He realized that, while it was a bit of a disadvantage at times, it was a very good thing that he always kept his journal in his robes; otherwise, it would have started rattling around on his desk and Karkaroff would have seen it.

He didn't even reach his desk before he opened the latch and let the pages flip themselves, revealing a short message:

_**You don't mind if I come to your office after breakfast, right? Just making sure, in case you had any professor-y things to do regarding the tournament for today.**_

Forgetting all about the past several minutes with Karkaroff for a moment, Severus smiled down at the message. He couldn't help but find it amusing that Vesperra would use 'professor-y' in a sentence, especially one that would have sounded much more mature otherwise. Oh, he loved how mature and intelligent she was, but it was nice to see the few moments where she wasn't as articulate or mature as usual, for mistakes were the raw identity of a person. And Vesperra would only ever let _him_, and no one else, see any of her mistakes.

Just as he made it to his desk, he snatched a quill from the edge of it and wrote his reply:

_I'm not busy. We'll spend the Saturday in here, just as always._

* * *

It felt strange not to be the only person awake this early. Walking into the Entrance Hall and finding it full of people was a shock—for the first few seconds, at least. Vesperra supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised, considering the tournament, but she still didn't like it. She preferred having a quiet breakfast, virtually alone, on the weekends.

The Goblet of Fire had been placed in the center of the Hall on the stool that usually bore the Sorting Hat, and about fifteen people were milling around it. They were all staying on the outside of a thin, golden line that had been drawn in a circle around the goblet, which was undoubtedly the Age Line. As Vesperra started to pass it, she slowed to a stop just to get a closer look. There was really nothing remarkable about it but for the blue flames, but there was an oddly mesmerizing look about it. She wondered if, in addition to anxiety to see the champions chosen, that was one of the reasons that they all just wanted to stay and watch.

From the group of students walked forward Adrian Pucey, who seemed to have been standing at the edge of the Age Line for a while. He stepped across the line and approached the goblet with trepidation, but then sped up through the last few steps and dropped a piece of parchment, which must have had his name on it, into the fire. Sparks flew as the flames licked it up, and then fire went calm again. Pucey took a deep breath and smiled, then walked back out.

The others watched him walk away and into the Great Hall—Vesperra supposed it must have been hard for him to stay in the same room as the goblet now that he'd put his name in, while the others didn't feel any sort of compulsion to leave. It was, after all, a goblet that would decide your role—or lack of one—in a tournament that could possibly kill you. Putting your name in and then not getting chosen would mean a great deal of disappointment and self-inflicted shame, but being chosen would mean that you had no chance to back out of it. It was scary just to imagine that, really.

Vesperra continued to stare at the goblet with a hardened look on her face, and she glanced around at the others who were standing around it. Most of them she didn't know, but a few she recognized just by their face. They all appeared too young to compete, but they were likely just eager to see others put in their name. Suddenly curious, she walked forward until she got to the edge of the Age Line; then, slowly, she lifted her foot and moved it forward. The tip of her shoe was stopped in mid-air, feeling like it had hit glass.

After a few seconds of staring at the goblet with somewhat controlled breathing, she finally decided to leave. She walked through the large, open doorway to the Great Hall and sat down at the nearly empty Slytherin table. Hardly anyone was eating in the Great Hall—probably because there were better places to be this morning. But she was glad, because at least this meant that any of the other Slytherins who came up for breakfast would most likely just grab a bit of toast and head straight back out to the Entrance Hall.

Through the course of about a half an hour, more students showed up, and some of them got bored of watching the Goblet of Fire. Most of the teachers had already been there, and she waited until a few minutes after Severus left before she got up and left as well.

* * *

"Just out of curiosity, what would you have thought about me entering the tournament if I wanted to and was of age?"

It was midmorning, and Vesperra and Severus had been sitting on his couch and talking since breakfast. She had so far been a great comfort to him, and at times he felt almost blissfully unaware that it was Lily's deathday. Halloween hadn't come on a weekend in any of the other years that he had known her, and it felt rather nice to be able to spend time with his best friend instead of having to teach during it. Part of him, a tiny, irrational part of him, was worried that something would happen to Potter, though. Every Halloween for the past three years had ended in something that had put Lily's son in danger, and he couldn't help but wonder if that streak of danger wouldn't end.

But it was a stupid thought, he told himself, because there was virtually nothing that could hurt the boy. If anything was going to happen, anyway, it was going to be after dinner.

And now, Vesperra was lying long-ways on the couch, her head in his lap and her feet propped up against the armrest on the opposite side; he felt, for the most part, calm. The grief-ridden headache that normally would have plagued him on Lily's deathday wasn't there, and his muscles weren't nearly as stiff as they might have been. However, several times just that morning, he had looked down and saw her as Lily, not Vesperra, for a moment. It shocked him every time, and he thought that perhaps his grief was more powerful than he'd thought. Perhaps it had just found a new way to hurt him now that he was with Vesperra.

Her question hadn't shocked him nearly as much as it had to glance down and see auburn hair and green eyes instead of her dirty blonde hair and bluish gray eyes, but mostly because they had already been talking about the Triwizard Tournament. He frowned, taking a minute to think about it.

"I would have been angry that you wanted to risk your life," said Severus seriously. The grief that he would have felt if she had competed in the tournament and died appeared in his eyes for a split second—but it could have just as easily been grief for Lily and how she actually _had _died. Maybe it was both. "And I would have wondered why in the hell you wanted to do that, and I would have done my best to convince you not to enter. It's not as if I would have actually been able to force you not to, though—I'm just your friend."

"But you would have tried to?" said Vesperra as more of a statement than a question, looking intently up at him. She thought of contradicting him, saying that he was so much more than a friend, but she decided against it. "You would have tried to force me not to do something like that, wouldn't you have?"

Severus sighed. "I would have wanted to—but to do that, I'd have to actually keep you in my office all day and make sure that you didn't get out…. But… in this hypothetical situation, it wouldn't have come down to that, would it? You wouldn't have put your name in the goblet if you knew how worried I would be for your life."

"No, of course not." Vesperra gave him a slight smile. "I would have been a little annoyed, but I'd have agreed with you…. Do you think that I'd have been chosen, though? As a champion?"

"Considering all that you can do now at only fourteen, I'm sure that your magical skill and general intelligence would have been far above that of any of the other Hogwarts students at seventeen. And I think you'd have won, too, but anything can happen in the Triwizard Tournament, and mistakes can be made."

Vesperra stared at him for a second, then blinked and nodded—which was just a forward tilt of her head, since her head was in his lap. Her chest felt suddenly very warm, as it felt good to know that, as overly protective as he was, he truly did believe in her abilities.

* * *

Half-past five, the Great Hall seemed fuller than it had ever been, despite the fact that no one new had come to the castle since last night. From what she had heard both at the feast and at lunch, earlier in the day, Vesperra was almost disappointed that she hadn't been around to see some of the things that had gone on. Besides Adrian Pucey, Warrington, Mark Douglass, and Victoria Lawrence were the only Slytherins who had put their name in. The only known ones, anyway—and they couldn't really be sure about Warrington, because he had refused to answer whether he did or not when asked. And apparently, several people had tried the Aging Potion method, and each of them had instantaneously grown beards and were thrown out of the Age Line.

Aside from those four Slytherins, Vesperra knew from the talk that Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor and Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff had entered the tournament for Hogwarts. She had already made up her mind that she'd prefer a Slytherin to be the Hogwarts champion, but if it wasn't, she really wouldn't care all that much.

The Halloween feast had never lasted so long. As it was the second feast in two days, the more extravagantly prepared food was hardly special. In fact, no one seemed to care about the food at all; nearly everyone was unconsciously lifting food to their mouths while watching Dumbledore impatiently. Malfoy, however, along with the others who regularly bullied Vesperra, apparently thought that insulting her would make the time go by faster. That made _her_ time last longer, even when she retreated to her mind-cave and tried to block out what they were saying.

An eternity later, the golden plates finally became spotless again, and Vesperra took a step out of her mind-cave, alert. The volume of the Great Hall rose dramatically and then went silent in an instant, and everyone turned to Dumbledore, who got to his feet. The quiet was so thick and tense that Vesperra could have grabbed it and snapped it in half with an audible _crack_. On either side of the Headmaster, Karkaroff and Madam Maxime were looking just as tense and expectant as anyone, and Bagman was beaming and winking at students. Crouch, however, was looking just as uninterested as Vesperra did (though she was merely masking her true anxiousness).

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore, his voice booming through the Great Hall, sounding both serious and cheerful. He gestured slightly to the Goblet of Fire, which was once again on the table in front of him instead of in the Entrance Hall. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come to the top of the Hall, walk along the Staff Table, and go through into the next chamber"—he indicated the door behind the table, which Severus had once mentioned switched back and forth from leading to the staffroom and to a small chamber—"where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore took out his wand gave it a great, sweeping wave, causing all the floating candles that weren't inside the carved pumpkins to extinguish themselves. The Great Hall was put into a state of semi-darkness, making the event more dramatic (which had likely been the intention) and most of the light that they did have was from the Goblet of Fire. Those that sat in the back of the Hall were only slightly illuminated by a soft, orange glow from the pumpkins. Vesperra soon stopped looking directly at the blue-white flames from the goblet, for her eyes had started to hurt.

A couple unintelligible whispers broke the silence as they all waited, some checking their watches and some gripping the tables very hard. Vesperra was holding her breath, though each passing moment felt like a minute without air.

Suddenly, the sound of flames whipping at the air was very loud, and those which were inside the goblet turned red. Sparks flew, and then a tongue of flame shot into the air and sent a charred piece of parchment fluttering, as though it had spit it out. The whole room gasped at once, and Vesperra released her breath.

Sticking his arm out, Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length. The flames inside the Goblet of Fire had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," read Dumbledore, "will be Viktor Krum."

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall—even Malfoy was clapping, but likely because he knew this made Krum an even better person to get close to, if he managed to do that at all. Krum stood up from his seat a few people down from Vesperra, and she noticed that he hardly looked any less sullen that usual. He didn't even appear to be satisfied as he slouched up toward Dumbledore and left to the chamber behind the Staff Table.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff was yelling, so loudly that he could be heard even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

Vesperra wasn't surprised either, despite hardly knowing Krum at all.

Seconds later, after the noise had died down and everyone turned their attention to the goblet again, the flames turned red once more and propelled a second piece of parchment out of it.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The following applause wasn't quite as large as the one for Krum, and Vesperra suspected that it wouldn't have even been as loud as it was had the girl not been so pretty. She got gracefully to her feet and swept her long, silvery blonde hair back, and swept happily up between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. While she wasn't attracted to girls (or anyone but Severus, for that matter), Vesperra realized that the Delacour girl must have been breathtakingly beautiful to most boys by common consent.

Glancing towards the Ravenclaw table, she saw that the remainder of the Beauxbatons party looked extremely disappointed, and that two of them were in hysterics, sobbing with their heads on their arms.

Next was the Hogwarts champion, and so the silence that followed felt much heavier than before. Whoever was chosen would be the person to represent ninety percent of the people in the room, and everyone—even Severus, up at the Staff Table—was anxious on various levels.

Red flames shot up from the goblet again, this time seemingly in slow-motion. A tongue of flame released a scrap of parchment, and Dumbledore, who was clearly more eager to see the goblet's choice for his own school, wasted no time in grabbing it directly from the tip of the flame.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"_WHAT?_"

Malfoy and a few others from the Slytherin table had shot to their feet as though an electrical surge had gone through them (Vesperra knew what that felt like, as she'd been unfortunate enough to stick her finger into a socket when she was younger), and yelled—but their voices were lost to the din made by the Hufflepuff table. Every single member of Hufflepuff had jumped to their feet as well, screaming and stamping as Diggory walked past them. It was irritating (Vesperra didn't think she'd be able to hear properly for a while after this), but understandable—Hufflepuff House rarely had any glory.

Grinning broadly, Diggory made his way behind the Staff Table and into the next chamber. The applause continued long after that, though, and it was a few minutes before Dumbledore could make himself be heard again.

"Can't believe we've got a fucking _Hufflepuff_ champion," said Malfoy, slumping angrily back into his seat.

Vesperra couldn't believe it either, but any indignation that she might have felt was gone at the sight of Malfoy's face.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily when the tumult finally died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure that I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support that you can muster." (_Like _that's_ going to happen,_ thought Vesperra, glancing at Malfoy again.) "By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

But he suddenly stopped speaking, and his gaze became fixed on the Goblet of Fire. It was obvious to everyone why—it had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it, and then a fourth tongue of flame shot up, along with another piece of parchment.

Caught off guard, Vesperra's hardened frown broke, and she stared up at the goblet with wide eyes. Her jaw fell open slightly, and her brow was furrowed so deeply that it was a bit painful—but she was numbed with shock and extreme confusion. _What…?_

Looking just as confused, but also rather grave, Dumbledore automatically reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He stared at it, his expression not changing at all throughout the long pause, and everyone stared at him.

_Oh Merlin. Not good. Not good._ Dread was quickly seeping into Vesperra, as something this impossible had immediately triggered thoughts of Voldemort, however irrelevant it might have seemed. She could tell, by Severus's stony expression, which was illuminated by the now blue light so that it looked ghostly pale, that he was feeling the same.

Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out, to the extreme shock of everyone in the Great Hall, "_Harry Potter._"

* * *

**Well, that was certainly dramatic, wasn't it? *Insert Dr. Who theme song here* I think I'm going to have a lot of fun writing Karkaroff. I mean, he's Russian. Russians always make for interesting characters. **

**And just a reminder from the first A/N: I have a shirt/sticker design for Severus and Vesperra that you can purchase on my Redbubble account, the link to which is in my profile. If you have an idea for designs, feel free to tell me in the reviews, and I might make them. **

**Speaking of reviewing, you should so it. Regardless of whether you have a T-shirt idea or not, because I know that you have something to say about this chapter. I just know you do.**


	54. Book 4: Chapter 8

**I am SO sorry that this chapter took so long. I would have finished it at my normal time, but my dad had been sick in the hospital with a lung disease for the past three weeks, and my mom gave birth last Thursday, so I've been forced away from my computer to go visit them a lot. And then my dad died on Monday after being in a coma for a few days, so relatives were visiting and my mom made me come out of my room and stop writing. Once again, I'm sorry. I promise the chapters won't take this long to post again. **

**Also, this chapter contains a lot of stuff directly from GoF, so if you've read GoF recently, it might feel a little bit like you're re-reading it, just with stuff added and other stuff taken out. Just a warning. Either way, I hope you enjoy it. ^_^**

* * *

All at once, Severus's world came crashing down. His mind began to cave in, all his thoughts becoming almost unintelligible in the avalanche they were in, rolling down a bottomless mountainside. Amongst the loose thoughts were indiscernible feelings, crashing into one another and causing pain, pain that was so unbearable and yet it was numbed out by the shock, which was spreading like some lethal gas.

And he really did feel like he was breathing in some lethal gas. Had his mind been able to process anything so complex within the first couple seconds of hearing Potter's name being called out, he would have momentarily thought about how a similar effect on his brain would have been caused by what Muggles called "laughing gas," as would several types of potions that could be used as poisons in some scenarios. However, even in the temporary lapse of being unable to think clearly, he somehow remembered reading _The Final Problem_ and the bit of his mind that wasn't clouded acknowledged that he felt like he _was_ Sherlock Holmes, falling off the Reichenbach, about to die.

That led him to remember another time he had unconsciously linked his emotions to _The Final Problem_, which was the very moment he'd found out that Lily was dead. Severus had been hit with every single memory he'd ever shared with his only friend at that horrible moment, and the ones where they'd read the Sherlock Holmes novels had cropped up immediately. He had, back then, remembered reading the part in the Muggle version of the last novel as his twelve year-old self and comforting a sobbing Lily, while he himself had felt quite affected by it as well…. And now he was remembering it again. The Fall. His past self's imagination of how Sherlock must have felt while falling, whether he had magic and the ability to save himself or not. Lily's death. The same feeling. Now. Same.

In the next moment, Severus's mind was clear enough for him to realize that he probably hadn't been in that drugged-like state for even a couple seconds. Everything came into view and nothing had changed—it was as though time had stopped to give him room to feel everything there was to feel in reaction to what had just happened: anger, shock (but at the same time the realization that he should have expected this), fear, dread… but anger overrode everything as it always did, and he welcomed it so long as he felt at least somewhat sane.

_No,_ _no, no, this can't be happening, it can't, it simply can't…._ Denial joined anger as well as the mad desire to laugh at the not-so-ironic event. _Oh, Halloween, very clever, it's as if they _know_ how much this day torments me…. Of-fucking-course it has to happen today. How could I have suspected otherwise? Whether or not he's causing it, Potter's a bloody magnet for trouble, and it's always deadly trouble._

Severus wasn't sure exactly who—or what—he was angry at. Everyone and everything, he supposed. In a matter of half of a second, his mind had made a case for everyone he'd ever met—even Vesperra: But, if anything, he was only angry at her for having given him something to care about besides Lily and possibly kept him from stopping whoever had done this beforehand. Because Potter couldn't possibly have figured out how to put his name in on his own. He may have been the Boy Who Lived, and he may have had a disregard for the rules to rival his father's ever since he had stepped foot into Hogwarts, but his magical skills were mediocre at best and he lacked the intelligence to even dream of any viable methods to fooling the Goblet of Fire _and_ Dumbledore's Age Line.

But even with this fact hovering in his mind, Severus was only vaguely aware of it at the moment, and he felt irrational anger towards Potter, sure that he must have done it himself. He truly just wanted someone to blame, and while his anger spread so much further and already reached other people, he wanted a solid reason. Every other time the boy had been in mortal danger (which had been way too many times), it had been his own fault. Part of Severus found it hard to believe that the tradition of Potter's life being threatened on Lily's deathday hadn't been broken, but that the one thing that would ultimately nearly kill him would be someone else's fault for once. It fit together like a deranged puzzle in his mind: _Potter went after the Sorcerer's Stone, Potter went down to the Chamber of Secrets, Potter went to face Sirius Black on his own, Potter put his name in the Goblet of Fire…._

Back in reality, in which Severus was actually finding it difficult to remain at the moment, his eyes had found Potter at the Gryffindor table of their own accord and were fixed upon him. The boy was frozen in his seat, the expression on his face making it seem as though he was feeling a similar sensation to what Severus had felt at the start.

The silence that had fallen so heavily upon the Great Hall rather than applause was broken by a sort of buzz, caused by several students standing up in their seats to get a better look at Potter. Apparently not many people were affected nearly as much by this—oh, there was definitely shock all around, and anger and a bit of dread and also jealousy, which Severus didn't feel (though he could sense it)—but nothing as horrible and consuming as what he was feeling. The faces and expressions in his peripheral vision told him all of this, but he didn't think to take even a fraction of a fraction of a second to glance at Vesperra. This hadn't hit him hard enough that he'd temporarily forgotten she existed, but this didn't concern her.

Severus noticed that Potter's friends were staring at him as well, from which the bit of rationality left inside him figured that he had told no one about this and therefore he most likely hadn't put his own name in. But he couldn't deny the possibility, especially not when his mind was currently being ruled by anger.

On both sides of him, the staff members were no different but for the fact that they might have been a little more composed than the students. McGonagall seemed to have regained her ability to speak, since she got to her feet and hurried over to whisper something urgently to Dumbledore that Severus couldn't hear. He could, however, see Dumbledore nodding and looking graver than before. The Headmaster, looking horribly resigned, straightened up.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Detecting a bit of fear in Dumbledore's voice, Severus felt something new spread over the room, above the thick layer of silence. He watched Potter get up and walk slowly, as though it were the walk of shame, just as everyone else was—though it felt, for some reason, as though he was the only one watching the boy. Despite the fact that there were hundreds of other people in the Hall, he felt alone in all that he was feeling and couldn't imagine that even Dumbledore was feeling quite the same.

Each step that Potter took toward the Staff Table was a step toward Severus having to fully accept that the boy was competing in the tournament, another inch toward the door closing and Severus waiting hopelessly for him to come back out alive for the fourth time. Soon, he was standing right in front of Dumbledore, and all of the teachers were twisting around to look at him. Severus's dread and anger grew stronger, but he felt the tiniest bit of satisfaction in seeing that Dumbledore hadn't even the faintest trace of a smile and that his eyes weren't twinkling at all as he looked at Potter. Perhaps it was fear _for_ the boy and not completely shock, but there was something in knowing that not a single person was happy about this.

"Well… through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore, almost sounding casual. There was a sort of _dear God what have you done this time_ undertone in there, though.

At that, Potter continued walking—with great effort, it seemed—along the Staff Table. Severus's eyes bored harder than they ever had before into the boy's skull as he passed—so hard that he was sure he would have permanent eye damage after tonight. And if not that, permanent heart damage after this year.

Immediately after he had gone through the door and the sound of it shutting echoed throughout the Hall, Dumbledore took a couple quick steps toward Bagman and made two jabs of his hand into the air that were actually beckons for him to lean forward. The ex-Beater's composition seemed to be extremely ready to switch from just as shocked to everyone else's to an eager smile. Severus frowned at him, wondering what had gone on in his head the past few seconds.

"Ludo—could you please go in there and wait with Harry and the others? I and the other staff members will be in momentarily," he heard Dumbledore say in a very low voice. That meant, he was sure, that the old man had something to say before they went into the next chamber. And though Severus had really had nothing to do with the tournament before, he _did_ now that Potter was involved, and so he was also sure that he was going to be included.

"I—of course," replied Bagman, excitement evident in his hushed voice. It both further angered and confused Severus that anyone could be happy about this.

A smile creeping up on his childish face, he practically jumped to his feet and scurried to the door, then went through it and into the next chamber. It shut with another resounding _slam_ that was much too loud to have come from a door merely closing by itself, even though it had.

Once again, Dumbledore's reaction was immediate, and seemingly too quick for a man his age. The Headmaster had stepped directly back into his usual spot and cleared his throat. Severus was slowly reverting back into professional mode—because it was a habit and because he knew it was necessary, not because he wanted to—though all the feelings were still there. At least this way, he was able to think more rationally; and the first fully rational thought he had was that it was a good time to glance towards the Slytherin table and look at Vesperra, possibly discern what she was feeling.

Luckily, he found her almost at once. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing that had made him all the more determined to find her, but perhaps it was just luck. As usual, his best friend was a master of disguise when it came to emotions. And at this distance with this lighting (or lack of it), it was rather difficult to discern anything. Severus made the decision to just figure it out later that evening within the second and before Dumbledore even started speaking.

"I apologize for the abrupt ending, but as you can see, tonight has taken an—unexpected—turn of events. And so I will need all of you to return to your dormitories. Goodnight."

There was a second where nothing happened at all, but then the silence was broken by about three hundred students standing up and starting to leave. It felt like it had been completely quiet for a much longer time and that some physical barrier had been broken with all of the noise.

Something—something powerful—in Dumbledore's voice had eliminated, though most likely temporarily, the doubt and confusion in all of the students; and Severus couldn't help but admire the power that the man's voice could have sometimes. It had been a rather long time since it had even been necessary for the Headmaster to speak like that, and so it was still impressive to hear it. He might have even said that he was envious of it—but only to Vesperra.

Hardly anyone was out of the Great Hall when Dumbledore turned to all of his fellow professors (and the few others who didn't teach at Hogwarts), and said quickly, "Mr. Crouch, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, and Professors Snape and McGonagall, please follow me—Moody, if you could please make sure that the Goblet of Fire is returned to safety and then come back—the rest of you, goodnight."

Though his voice had been lower then, it still had that imperious quality—but it was more out of respect and many years of having worked with Dumbledore that all but the people mentioned had nodded and automatically hurried away, back to their offices. Then, wearing a casual, yet serious expression, the Headmaster wasted no time in striding forward and opening the door for a third time, leading the group into the other chamber. Only a second after they had begun to file into the room, the Goblet of Fire went out, creating almost pitch-blackness.

Severus was the last inside by unfortunate circumstances (and possibly also because his subconscious didn't want him to face this), and the noise from the Great Hall reduced to a buzz once he was. Then the door shut behind him, and he could hear nothing from beyond it.

Severus was stony-faced, making sure that nothing he felt was able to work its way out of a crevice in his face. No one could possibly have known what he thought about all of this, that he wasn't even sure whether his heart was inside him anymore, that he had felt the sensation of falling to his death just a few minutes ago. Keeping all of that locked in hurt an awful lot, but the pain was something that he was used to.

In front of him, the three champions—Krum, Delacour, and Diggory—were all standing near the fireplace, looking confused, and Potter (whom Severus refused to consider a champion yet) was facing them, Bagman's hand squeezing his arm. Around Severus, McGonagall was hiding anything she might have felt with her thin-lippedness, Dumbledore still looked casually serious, Crouch's disposition was so stiff that it was almost unnerving (and for _Severus Snape_, that was saying something), and Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were both indefinitely huffing internally.

By the position in which he was standing and how an uncomfortable sort of silence seemed to have fallen upon the room when they had walked in, Ludo Bagman had apparently just been explaining things—and also apparently not effectively.

"Madame Maxime!" said the Beauxbatons girl hardly a second after the door had shut. Tossing her hair (and causing a very strange, though not strong at all, sensation in the pit of Severus's stomach), she strode over to her headmistress, looking angry. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

As though this was the first she'd heard of it (or perhaps she had been numbed with disbelief like Severus and hadn't wanted to believe it), Madame Maxime drew herself up to her full height, looking ever taller. Severus's mouth thinned with an awkward feeling amongst everything else as he glanced up and saw that her head had brushed the candle-filled chandelier.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously. Being to the left and a bit behind her, Severus couldn't see much of her face, but he was sure that it was angry more than anything else. He, however, was starting to feel confusion set in to replace some of his own anger.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his voice angry as well, but rather controlled, like he was pretending not to care in a manner that pretty much proved he _did_ care. His smile was back, and his lips and eyes were more contradicting than ever. Severus found it much more unpleasant than he used to—Vesperra's opposite sort of smile, while just as contradicting, registered as very pleasant to him, though. He supposed that was fitting. "_Two_ Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions—or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

Karkaroff gave a short and nasty laugh, giving Severus a surge of anger apart from everything else; all that man cared about was the fairness of the competition. He knew that there was no way the man could have known, but it embittered him to think that no one else _really_ had to worry about Potter's life. It was as simple as wanting your school's champion to win for everyone else.

"_C'est impossible,_" chimed in Madame Maxime, her largely decorated hand on her champion's shoulder. As furious as she must have been, her French accent made it appear less than it was. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, still smiling his steely smile. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

_Oh, we're going to start doing this, are we?_ thought Severus, annoyed. He didn't want Karkaroff and Maxime to go back and forth on interrogating Dumbledore for the next several minutes, and he was now even angrier at their petty (well, petty to him) complaints. A sudden thought struck him, and a second was all it took for that to merge with his bottled-up anger and manifest itself as irrational thoughts that he didn't even believe—but he said them anyway.

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Severus softly, briefly forgetting that he didn't want to speak to him at all. All the malice that he knew was unfair to feel towards Potter (and yet he felt it anyway, without remorse) was in his eyes, and he could practically _feel_ it lighting them up. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here—"

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly. With an even firmer glance at him over his half-moon spectacles, the Headmaster made Severus, though reluctantly and indignantly, close his mouth and shut up. Even without complete jurisdiction over his senses, which were in organized chaos, he felt the familiar frustration that filled him every time Dumbledore stopped him like this. He wondered if the old man ever felt like he was dealing with a child when he had to interrupt him… because occasionally, Severus couldn't help but feel like one. And now, he was glaring at the Headmaster through his curtain of black hair, his eyes glinting malevolently.

But Dumbledore didn't notice, because he was now looking down at Potter, who was staring back. All Severus could tell from his face at this angle was: _frightened_. But _why_ was he frightened? Because he was afraid of being punished unjustly? He doubted it. Innocence was something he would never expect to see with the son of James Potter, and he had hardly ever seen it before.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him calmly, watching him closely, as was everyone else.

"No," said Potter, likely trying not to look around. As ambiguous the meaning of his discomfort could have been, Severus's mind automatically went to _He's guilty. Obviously, _and he let out a soft noise of impatient disbelief as his lip curled.

Ignoring Severus (to his further annoyance), Dumbledore went on, "Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"

"_No,_" said Potter, this time vehemently, and only arousing Severus's suspicion (that of the irrational part of him, anyway) more. His chest was puffed up in frustration, the air having entered his lungs seemingly on its own so that it would be at the ready to be released in another noise of disbelief in the next couple minutes.

The reason that he was feeling strongly suspicious about Potter in spite of his previous thoughts of how Dumbledore's magic would be impossible to get through was the thought that had struck him: _Even _Dumbledore_ can make mistakes. There could be loopholes in the logic of it, even if magic itself can't be beaten, and it might not even take a genius like Vesperra to figure it out._ The details (which were many) that completely worked against that theory had all gone up with the wind, blown away like dust, because they weren't important—only worsening—in an unstable mind that was grasping at straws.

However, while those thoughts were overwhelming the better part of him, there was still the small, currently insignificant side of him that saw and recognized and couldn't deny the truth, and that part realized that Dumbledore could very well have been—in fact, he was most likely—using Legilimency on Potter. Severus hadn't seen his face, but that part of him knew that this situation was serious enough for the Headmaster to resort to such measures. He simply _couldn't_ have just believed him because he was _Harry-freaking-Potter_. It didn't work that way—at least not now.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime, summing up the majority of Severus's thoughts. As she said this, his lip curled, and he let out the breath he'd been unwittingly holding, softly shaking his head.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said McGonagall sharply—so sharply that Severus looked over at her at once. Her shrill voice was difficult to get used to, especially when you hear it after not having heard it for a while. "I am sure we are all agreed on that—"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging her massive shoulders.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely—though Severus knew he didn't believe it. Even in his somewhat irrational state, he didn't believe that Dumbledore's _spell _could have been faulty—it was the logic, not the magic, that had the potential to be a problem.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said McGonagall angrily. Severus would never have admitted it, but that woman could be pretty damn frightening when she was angry. A lot like Vesperra, except it was more like being afraid of a mother than an easily-angered friend. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be enough for everybody else!"

She then shot a very angry look at Severus, giving him the feeling of a child about to be smacked by his mother for doing something wrong. Of course, it had always been his father who had done all the beating, and his mother had been too weak for even deserved abuse, so he had no experience with that feeling—so it annoyed him. Other than the very slight widening of his eyes, which could just have easily been acknowledgement as anything else, he showed none of that on his face or in his mannerisms.

"Mr. Crouch… Mr Bagman," said Karkaroff, whose voice had once again become unctuous in an obvious attempt at flattery—whether or not he was actually about to say anything flattering, "you are our—er—objective judges. Surely you believe that this is most irregular?"

At the moment, the two men in question couldn't have looked more different from each other. Still overwhelmed by (what only he would call) excitement, Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief, then smiled and looked at the other. Crouch was standing just outside the circle of firelight, as though purposely trying to make himself a separate entity, stronger and more powerful than the rest of them. And essentially, he was, according to his position in the Ministry of Magic.

His face half-hidden by shadow, Crouch was looking rather grim. Either he found all of this just as distressing as Severus did (though it would have been in a much different sense), or he just had a thing for dramatics. Whichever it was, his voice sounded just as curt as ever when he looked to them and spoke.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

That was what Severus had already known, but he had still found himself—all parts of him—hoping that no one else would say it. It felt like a heavy weight had dropped on his chest at hearing that fact spoken aloud, accompanying all the other weights that were already there. He felt a physical pull downward, as though he might have stumbled, but no one else gave any indication that they'd seen him do something odd, so he assumed that it had only been in his head.

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman. Beaming, he turned back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, establishing a sort of unofficial air that the matter was now closed. Severus resisted the urge to scowl directly at him.

Severus wasn't the only one who didn't want the matter to be closed—but once again, it was indefinitely for completely different reasons than his: Karkaroff's smile had dropped, and his face wore a very ugly look that twisted his already lined features. He could have sworn he saw the man's silver goatee prickling.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff, his voice now sounding closer to grinding nails than fruity. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

At this, it suddenly struck Severus that Karkaroff _really_ wanted for his champion to win. Much more than he should have, considering the circumstances. Had he really been _that _dynamic over the past thirteen years and become a Headmaster that honestly cared about rules, or was this a display of the fact that he _hadn't _changed? Was that his motive to do everything now—fame? Money? Competition? Would that prevail over everything else when Voldemort returned? Or… was his desire for the tournament to be fair nothing more than a cover-up for something else? Severus couldn't be sure, as both seemed equally likely, and he couldn't perform Legilimency from several feet to the side of the man.

"But Karkaroff," said Bagman, now sounding slightly less cheerful, "it doesn't work like that. The Goblet of Fire's just gone out—it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—"

"—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

Just before that last bit, Severus heard the tiniest noise of something creaking but didn't register it at first, nor did anyone else. They were perhaps all too focused on Karkaroff, who was seething, to notice.

And then, his eyes practically jerked themselves over to the door, where there was a man whom he had definitely expected to see—not that he wanted to, or was relieved that he'd finally shown up. Not at all. It both annoyed and puzzled him a little that a man with a wooden leg could enter a room and hardly make any noise.

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled Moody the moment he entered the chamber, shutting the door behind him dramatically with his statement. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

As Moody limped toward the fire, every right step he took gave a loud _clunk_, and for a few seconds that was the only noise in the room. Once in the firelight, the shadows made from the orange light illuminating his face had a strange effect, making his face look more twisted and scarred than ever. His magical eye stood out in the light, and Severus once again averted his own eyes from it. Right now, unable to say anything to contribute (though the others probably wouldn't consider his abuse against Potter _contributing_), he felt small and almost insignificant, like a piece of the backdrop. Especially since Madame Maxime was nearby.

Karkaroff only looked at Moody for half a second before looking away in a purposefully annoyed manner, as though a child had interrupted a grown-up's conversation. His hands, though, were balled up into fists at his sides, giving away his resentment for being near that man.

"Convenient?" he said, attempting (but failing, essentially) to sound disdainful. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

But Severus did, and he was sure that Karkaroff did, no matter what he said. It was another thing the rational part of him had suspected from the start, and he was even less willing to accept it now that it was being spoken aloud.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly, his suspicion trampling on the gravel from his voice. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently," said Madame Maxime, "someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!"

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards—"

"If anyone's got a reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody (_And me,_ Severus couldn't help but think), "but… funny thing… I don't hear _him_ saying a word…."

For a moment, Severus felt both a bit confused and strangely satisfied that Moody was actually _suspicious_ of Potter, whatever the reason was. But then—

"Why should 'e complain?" the Delacour girl burst out, still under the hand of her Headmistress, and stomping her foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We ''ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money—zis is a chance many would die for!"

And Severus agreed with this girl; whether or not it was actually Potter's fault, and whether or not the boy was wearing a face of utmost innocence at the moment, he just _knew_ that Potter was enjoying this. That damn kid was going to enjoy all the extra fame, just like his father would have, even more exceedingly arrogant than usual and much too confident of his mediocre abilities. Although, he didn't think that it had—or would have—much to do with school honor for Potter; it would all be for himself (if he even lived), and trying to show that he could just cheat death like it was a bloody game of chess. What would happen when he was actually checkmated by the other team, though? And how the _hell_ was Severus supposed to save the boy from his own game?

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter _is_ going to die for it," said Moody in what would have seemed a calm tone if not for the trace of a growl. He held his walking stick in both arms, his hands resting almost nonchalantly on top of each other to keep it steady to the ground. His scarred face remained passive—though his magical eye was whirring back and forth.

There was an extremely tense silence in the room to follow those words, and many people suddenly looked uncomfortable. Clearly the connotation of what Moody had said had not been misunderstood by anyone, and it had instilled a bit of fear in everyone. It definitely wasn't irrational, and Severus knew probably more than anyone that fear was one of the strongest, most impressionable, and most influential emotions there was.

Yes, that had to be it. Moody had to be right. Severus felt a very slight pang of annoyance at himself for admitting, even in the privacy of his own mind, that he agreed with Moody. But despite his previous self-assuredness that this had been Potter's own doing, the fact that this was the result of a plot—a murder plot—was so much more real now. That had been a niggling thought struggling at the very base of his subconscious ever since the moment that Dumbledore had read Potter's name out of the goblet, and now it was doing so much more than that. And Severus couldn't stand it.

The grim looks forming on most of the others' faces, including Potter's (of course he would realize that Moody was right, as he must have been quite used to being in mortal danger), revealed that none of them wanted to believe it either, but they still knew it was the most likely explanation. They all looked nervous and anxious—especially Ludo Bagman, who bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Moody, old man… what a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly, before Moody could do so much as open his mouth. It was a bit _too_ loudly, Severus noticed, and a great deal of his suspicion automatically shifted towards the man. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

Moody's normal eye widened (although it didn't appear to be able to go very wide) and his brow automatically rose into an angry "_Is that so?"_ expression.

"Imagining things, am I?" he growled. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet…."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" argued Madam Maxime, throwing up her enormous hands. If Severus hadn't had to take a quick step out of the way to avoid being hit and had his mortality on his mind, he would have scoffed inwardly and thought, _What the hell kind of question is that?_

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody, sounding frustrated, as though it should have been obvious. And really, it should have been. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament…. I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, for a moment seeming to be accusing the one person least likely to have put in Potter's name, "and a very ingenious theory it is—though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you seriously…."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," retorted Moody in a menacing voice to rival Severus's. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff—as you ought to remember…."

"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly, apparently keeping Moody from indirectly reprimanding Karkaroff for being an ex-Death Eater. It was rather annoying and also sometimes strange how Dumbledore would be so willing to forget—and even avoid—the ugly truth of the past.

Though he fell silent at once, Moody continued to survey Karkaroff with satisfaction that he'd sparked some shame—or whatever reaction it was—from bringing back old memories. Karkaroff's face was burning—either with anger or humiliation. Probably both.

Dumbledore, finally, turned to everyone and cleared his throat, signaling that it was time for the arguing to stop and for him to officially settle everything. He might have spent the past ten minutes thinking, or he might have just been patient and much too polite.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," he said calmly. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do…."

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr—"

"My dear Madam Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

The Headmaster waited, smiling politely, but Maxime only glared at him. She, Karkaroff, and Severus were the only ones who seemed particularly angry about this—McGonagall was clearly worried, though. But while the Beauxbatons Headmistress and Durmstrang Headmaster were livid at the prospect of the tournament being unfair for them, Severus's fury—which showed on his face—was much more serious, and much stronger. He was furious at Potter for being such a bloody danger-magnet, at Dumbledore for making it official that the boy would have to compete—whether or not the old man even had any control over it, at Karkaroff and Maxime for being angry for stupid reasons… and at the very forces that governed the Universe, whatever they were, for being so cruel as to put him in a position of such pain.

And he was both furious and annoyed at Bagman, who didn't seem angry or worried at all—rather, excited. Rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room, he said, "Well, shall we crack on, then? Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

At that, Severus started blocking everything out. He simply couldn't deal with this anymore—he couldn't deal with standing around and watching the others, he couldn't deal with seeing how calm Dumbledore looked or how frustrated Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were or how happy Bagman was (for reasons that he couldn't fathom), he couldn't deal with being in the same room as Potter, and he couldn't deal with everything that was going on inside his head and _only_ inside his head. He was full to bursting of so many emotions and in the presence of too many people, and so he slipped to the back of the group while everyone was focusing on whatever Barty Crouch was saying and left.

It was surprisingly easy, and no one appeared to notice him. Severus wasn't called back to the room, and he honestly didn't care whether the door opened while he was walking down the very dark Great Hall for someone to call him back or ask where he was going, or even if anyone got suspicious of him for leaving. He simply couldn't be in there anymore, and he needed to go back to his office, _now_.

There was so much going through his mind that it seemed like only a few seconds later that he was standing outside of his office, having no idea how he'd gotten there. When he did, he only paused for half a second to wonder how he'd managed to do that before opening the door and walking in.

His office felt strangely empty, despite the fact that there was nothing missing and there wasn't usually anything else whenever he showed up there. Severus stood still, his left hand resting on the arm of his couch, and his chest rising and dropping slowly as he tried to let everything from earlier that evening sink in; he wondered, vaguely, why his own office felt foreign to him at the moment.

With all the pain that was clouding his mind and hindering rational thought, Severus found that the best way to figure everything out was to keep his thoughts simple, short, and direct: _Potter's name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Potter's going to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Someone put his name in the goblet. Someone wants Potter dead. Someone at _Hogwarts_ wants Potter dead. Potter's in mortal danger. And not only because of the tournament. And I have to protect him, for Lily. But that's going to be nearly impossible. I'm on the verge of insanity._

_A drink… I need a drink._

Not wanting to continue trying to process all this, Severus made for his bedroom door, behind which he was planning to drop to the floor and get his stash of Firewhiskey out from under his bed. But he stopped after a single, long stride, for he had realized why the office felt so empty.

He had craved comfort—and still did—to calm him down. He supposed that he had expected to find Vesperra in there, waiting for him so that she could hug him and lessen his pain despite not knowing the half of it. And now, the thought of having her to talk to seemed both preferable and more intelligent of a choice to booze.

Severus also felt a sudden pang of guilt for having waited this long pull out his journal, and he thought of how Vesperra must have been waiting for the longest time, lying down on her bed and watching her journal, expecting to see the _S _on the latch glow red any minute. She might have even fallen asleep by now, frustrated and annoyed at him. And in spite of everything, _he_ was annoyed—to put it lightly—at himself, he didn't want her to be mad at him.

So, he switched directions without a second thought and took two long strides to his desk, sitting down and setting the journal flat open on the desk simultaneously. With a stinging headache, a severely aching heart, and a desire for comfort—whether she would know that's what it was or not, he picked up a quill and dipped it in ink.

* * *

Even when Potter had already gone through to the next chamber and all the students were returning to their dormitories, Vesperra couldn't believe her ears. It was the sort of shock that takes a very long time to sink in, and it was so far still floating on the surface. But eventually, she knew, it would absorb so much water that it gained weight and started sinking at an unexpected time.

Luckily, it wasn't news made of thin material, and so she knew it wouldn't dissolve, nor would it sink in pieces. Either way, it had to get to the bottom eventually, and she was fully aware of it for its entire trip down her mind.

Around her, it seemed that every single Slytherin was angry out of their wits. Potter was already pretty much Public Enemy Number One to Slytherin House, and the fact—or at least, it was on its way to becoming one in Vesperra's mind—that his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire had sparked so much anger amongst them. About half of them were just looking murderous, fuming and letting out inhuman noises that expressed their fury, and others were whispering angrily to their friends, trying to figure out how he had done it.

The third years were indefinitely the angriest out of everyone, as they were the ones who had classes with Potter and knew him at least somewhat personally. If you were to take a look inside their minds, it would have been difficult to tell exactly _who_ was the most furious—Malfoy or Vesperra. While they were each other's arch enemy, the one thing they could agree on was that they both loathed Potter. Even Malfoy's cronies—Crabbe and Goyle—and girlfriend couldn't compete with their anger, as none of them knew more about Malfoy and how his mind worked than Vesperra did. She was sure that she had a lot of his mind figured out, which was both an inevitable and annoying thing that happened between two people who loathed each other at that level. You have to know how your enemy's mind works in order to beat them, don't you?

But no one knew this—not even Vesperra, though she suspected it. Unlike her, Malfoy didn't try to hide his emotions most of the time, and so his expression made all of the shock, anger, jealousy, and outrage he was feeling rather obvious. Vesperra, on the other hand, kept a stone-hard face and the only thing she let show was her scowl. Although, if one were to look into her eyes, _really_ look, they might just see everything that was behind them. And they might have seen it in her constantly flexing hands as well.

She didn't know it, but her state of mind was extremely different from her best friend's at the moment. All she knew about Severus was that he had gone into the chamber with the other teachers, since she'd looked back and seen him go in there before leaving the Great Hall. And she was sure that he was angry, but she had no idea of the intensity or the reason or the pain—which was from everything else mingled with his anger. Unlike her friend, whom she was almost always emotionally connected with, Vesperra felt no pain, but only disbelief (currently) and frustration.

It was frustrating to know that the Boy Who Lived had _yet again_ been given another chance for fame, for fortune, for cheating death. And not only that, but also the fact that however he had gotten his name in had been completely unfair. He was just as young (though definitely not as intelligent) as her, and yet he was going to compete in a tournament that was supposed to be exclusive to those who were of age. Now, Vesperra wasn't stupid—she didn't honestly think that Potter had entered by himself. It might have been because of her self-assuredness of her own intelligence, but she was sure that there was no possibility _he_ could have figured out a loophole. Besides, she had already known that Potter would be in danger this year, since Voldemort was bound to make his return soon. This was so obviously a set up—but she did entertain other possibilities.

The fact became real for her precisely five steps before she reached the Common Room entrance down in the dungeons; it had been a matter of time, not events or thoughts, so nothing in particular had set it off. Her mind was in a whirlwind of her own creation, and she spent the remaining time from there to her dorm speculating, forming and debunking possibilities, and all in a rather angry manner. When Vesperra made it there, Millicent was already undressing and getting into her nightclothes, and she didn't look up as her dorm-mate walked in. Immediately, she averted her eyes and jerked back the curtains on her four-poster so she could get into bed: Vesperra always felt uncomfortable with any level of nakedness, and she certainly didn't want to see someone of Millicent's build without her robes on.

Anxious to talk to Severus, she removed her journal from her robes, unlatched it, and set it out in front of her at once. Vesperra was ready to wait for a while, as she was sure that he had things to do. Although, she hadn't expected to wait quite as long as she had, and it was with impatience that she spent the last few minutes before the pages of the journal began flipping themselves to the one that Severus had written the first message of the night on.

A bit happier than she should have been, she both read it and heard it spoken aloud in her friend's voice:

_I'm sorry for taking so long. I would have taken longer, actually, if I hadn't decided to leave while the others were still in there._

And so their conversation started. Vesperra told him that she didn't mind and then asked why he had left early, and he explained with the full story of what all had gone on in the chamber at the back of the Great Hall. Neither of them were surprised to learn that they were both extremely furious at Potter and whoever had put his name in the goblet, and Severus was glad to know that Vesperra had already guessed that Potter's name had been submitted by someone working for Voldemort and who wanted to kill him. Of course, he mentioned nothing of all of the conflicting emotions he felt about having to protect Potter, but he was sorely tempted to just tell her about Lily now and get it over with. And that was because he knew that his friend had no concern for Potter's life, and she would indefinitely prefer him to die than live.

However, Vesperra had a feeling that there was something he wasn't mentioning—but that wasn't a qualm of distrust, it was just something that occurred rather often between them. She knew that there were things Severus kept from her either because he wasn't ready to tell her or because it was for her own good; and while it was a bit frustrating to know that she was kept in the dark about some things, even if they were only minor details, she respected that he had a good reason and didn't mention it to him. Besides, there were still plenty of things that she kept from him, and being angry at all would be pretty hypocritical.

She could also tell, from the tone of his voice, that Severus was feeling rather stressed from this… ordeal. If you could even call it that. Truthfully, she was as well, but she didn't think that her stress and frustration could fully amount to his, so she decided to end the conversation with:

_**I think we're both pretty tired and should go to sleep. Do you want me to come over to your office tomorrow morning?**_

It was several seconds before his reply, and Vesperra could practically see Severus pausing to stare at the message for a moment and he must have hesitated to answer. Or maybe he was just shocked—but in a good way—by her offer.

_I would like that, yes._

* * *

For the first time in a while, it didn't matter to Severus what Dumbledore was doing at the moment, after something so serious. Normally, he'd have stayed behind on the night of the event to speak with the Headmaster as soon as possible, or he'd at least have made the trip to the Headmaster's office the morning afterwards. He'd have wanted to vent all his anger and frustration on the man who had made it Severus's _responsibility _to worry about Potter's life, especially when the boy might have been in immediate danger—but now, he was pretty sure that he already knew what Dumbledore's responses would be.

In retrospect, though, Severus had always predicted the way the eccentric Headmaster would react to things quite accurately. The thing was, no one ever knew what Albus Dumbledore was going to do in order to take care of things, but everyone definitely knew that, whatever it was, he wasn't going to tell anyone. There were sometimes things of importance that Severus wouldn't have expected the man to say, but if there was anything particularly important this time, Dumbledore would come to _him_.

Either way, the main reason that he opted not to consult the Headmaster first was because he was too angry (at everything, still) and too stressed to want to put himself in that man's presence just yet. All he really wanted (that was possible at the moment, anyway) was for his best friend—his only friend in the world since nineteen years previous—to be there with him. Besides, it wasn't just to have her near him. She was intelligent and could talk to him and help him theorize. And while he hated to see his friend in any sort of pain, which included stress, hearing her somewhat worried and frustrated voice would provide him a small bit of comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only person feeling like this.

Well, he knew that she couldn't possibly have been feeling all that similarly, but at least she'd think that she did.

When he heard the knock on his office door that he'd almost never heard on a Sunday before, Severus was already at his couch instead of his desk. He had been sitting there for the past half-hour with only his thoughts to keep him occupied—both because he was anticipating Vesperra showing up and because he simply couldn't stay comfortable in his desk chair for some reason. The time had passed quickly enough (or twisted enough) that he felt like he had expected it to come at that precise time once the first bit of the knock rang out in his ears.

He thought of flicking his wand at the door so that it would open on its own, but that seemed a rather impolite thing to do, especially when it came to Vesperra. On one hand, it would have a connotation of casualty and the fact that there was no need for formalities—that she could just walk straight in whenever she wanted, really—but on the other, it could seem like he didn't care about seeing her and that he couldn't even be bothered to stand up.

But none of that mattered, because the small thought was blown away by a nonexistent breeze at once, and Severus's kneecaps snapped upwards for him to stand by themselves. He didn't mind having to leave his comfortable spot for a few seconds; he wanted to see her anyway. There was always something refreshing about seeing her in the threshold of his office door.

And suddenly, with no trail of thoughts leading to it as a preamble, it struck him that Vesperra's knuckles might be sore a lot from knocking full rhythms at least once a week. At that, his hand practically lunged for the doorknob so as to stop her in mid-knock.

As the opening of the door gradually (but quickly) revealed her standing behind it, he noticed her right hand drop to her side. A glance at it made him frown briefly and only slightly—the knuckles were a bit red, and the one on her middle finger looked like it had a permanent sore on it.

Not seeming to notice this (and he was glad that she didn't, as it was something trivial and it would feel strange to explain to her), Vesperra took a somewhat deep breath, and then exhaled a "Morning."

"Morning," said Severus as she walked in, quickly placing the usual Imperturbable Charm on the door before sitting down again.

"Won't you have a lot of grading to catch up on if you're neglecting it for me?" she asked. He sat down while she was in the middle of his sentence, and she scooted the remaining distance toward him so that she could lean against him. She sensed that he needed it, judging by the extra stress lines on his face.

"Don't worry about it," Severus assured her in a sigh. "I'll have tonight and tomorrow. And, if anything, I'm not neglecting it—_it's_ trying to distract _me_ from more important things."

There it was: the statement that would spark everything else, and there would be no going back to casual conversation until much later in the day. Part of them both wished he hadn't said that, and another part was glad, as they both had a lot on their minds.

"Have you talked to Dumbledore yet?" asked Vesperra, at the same time lacing her hand with his. But then, she remembered that neither of them had even gone to breakfast today (which was taking place upstairs at that moment) and that he'd mentioned that he hadn't talked to the Headmaster the night before. "Wait—nevermind, sorry. I forgot. Stupid question." It wasn't an apology, but instead a self-reprimand for not having thought that completely through before speaking. Severus noticed it and, having noticed her do that a few times before as well, almost found it amusing. "When do you _plan_ to talk to Dumbledore?"

"Likely later today. I can't avoid anymore meals, or else Moody and maybe even Karkaroff'll get suspicious and start hounding me."

"And then I'd probably have to hide in the storeroom again, wouldn't I?" said Vesperra, only half-serious, and with a small smirk playing on her lips for a split second.

Severus sighed, unable to even mockingly be light-hearted about it. "Yes. And—" But then a thought occurred to him, and his previously tight jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widened a bit, and his grip on Vesperra's hand tightened. "Damn. Bloody _dammit_."

She furrowed her brow in concern, and didn't mention the fact that her hand was hurting a little. "What?"

He continued to stare straight ahead and said nothing for another few seconds, then looked down to her and, loosening his grip on her hand, said, "Moody."

"What—?"

"His eye. Were he to show up at my door, I'd have no choice but to let him in—and if you were hiding inside the storeroom closet, he'd see you through the wood of the door." Not to mention the fact that it would be _very_ possible for him to mention, at least off-hand, the fact that Severus was an ex-Death Eater, and then Vesperra would hear that. "_Him_ knowing the secret would be even worse than—Lupin—knowing, I doubt I could land a Memory Charm on him before he turned _me_ into a ferret, and then he'd not only be suspicious of me, but also of you. Whether he's on our side or not, I don't want him spying on you."

For a second, all Vesperra could think of was how he seemed to be more worried about her privacy than his own or even his reputation, and she felt the familiar warmth blossom in her chest. But then she snapped back into reality and cut the flush of happiness off short in favor of logic.

"Neither do I," she sighed, grimacing slightly. "What about your bedroom? His eye can't see through stone, can it?"

"I don't think so. Either way, we should just hope that neither of them ever show up while you're here. And I don't think they will unless I give them a reason."

"Hm… So, Karkaroff—er, do you think he might have done it?" Vesperra had spoken slowly, somewhat hesitant to display her theory to Severus. It was a hunch she'd had even before he'd told her the story of what had happened last night, but she was on the verge of thinking it was a definite possibility and thinking that she had it all wrong. Leaning back so that she could look up and make eye contact with him, she frowned. "I mean—I know you said that he was furious the whole time, but he _is_ an ex-Death Eater, and who else at Hogwarts is more likely?"

Severus blinked, and Vesperra thought that he was going to shoot down her theory before he started nodding slowly. "Yes... that was actually what I suspected at first. A lot of evidence points away from him, but he's the only plausible suspect at the moment." _Good Lord, I sound like bloody Sherlock Holmes. _"Although—in the past, the truth hasn't often been what was likely."

"Alright, then…" Glad that he agreed with her, she calmed down a considerable amount. Vesperra then shifted a bit in her seat so that she was more comfortable, in order to make it easier to think. She found that she could think more easily when she spoke out loud, and it was only Severus in there with her, so she decided not to keep it all inside her mind—it would save time, anyway, because then she would only have to think it once. "Alright, so we're sure it was an adult, since the possibility of just a very talented student doing it is extremely unlikely and we know that this is to do with You-Know-Who. And then, it's impossible to get inside Hogwarts unless you're supposed to be here, so it couldn't have been anyone we don't know of—but dammit, people have gotten in before—"

At her abrupt stop, she balled up her left fist and hit it against the couch, not realizing that Severus was staring at and raising an eyebrow at her. Then she jerkily turned her head up to him.

"Do you think You-Know-Who or another Dark wizard besides Karkaroff could have found some obscure way to get in again, like it's happened the past three years?" There was both anger and a bit of desperation in her voice—and possibly helplessness, in some far-off corner.

The thought sent a heavy boulder down his throat and made him feel temporarily light-headed with the dread. But he kept a straight face, and the only change was the uncomfortably tightening and slightly visible vein in his temple. "Yes, and… I can't say that it's unlikely," he sighed, unconsciously rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand to calm her—even though he might have been the one who needed more calming. "But in the past three years, it's all been things that we—or even anyone—would have ever expected—well, except for Quirrell's turban, but we hadn't expected what was under it. A diary… a rat… those things had never crossed our minds. And if it's a similar situation this time, I just know that we're going to spend all year speculating, spying, and collecting information only to find out that we were completely wrong later." _But this time,_ he thought, _Potter might not make it out alive._

She almost didn't register the last few words of what Severus had said, because her mind had automatically fixated on the fact that he had said "_we_" when it came to speculating and spying, not "I"—and while that could have been unintentional, Vesperra would have really liked to think that he trusted her enough not to want to keep her from trying to help him more proactively. She internally sobered up at once, though, and didn't mention that.

"So you're suggesting that we don't worry so much about _how_ whoever it was had got in, but instead focus on trying to figure out who it is? Because we _know_ it's a who—a mutilated soul or animal or inanimate object couldn't have managed to get Potter's name in the goblet."

"I think that would be best for both our sanities and the sake of keeping the school safe," said Severus, glad she understood, despite the fact that he didn't even completely agree with his own idea. "Striving to understand every little detail would just be a bonus…. Even though knowing the method would still be useful. But we can't honestly expect to sleuth it out."

"Essentially, it's a good and rational plan, but neither of us will be able to stand just leaving that side of the mystery alone—you know that, right? We're Slytherins; we can't help it." Vesperra's mouth twitched into the ghost of a smirk, her tone having been somewhat grave. She leaned against him in an attempt to relax, but her heart—both of their hearts—was still beating fast as though on edge.

"I know we won't. But we can still focus on the perpetrator's identity."

"And it might not even have been because something or someone was snuck into Hogwarts…," said Vesperra more to herself than to Severus, the thought only just having come to her. "It could be something else entirely—wait, didn't you say that Ludo Bagman was looking excited last night?"

Surprised at her suddenly manic tone, Severus raised both eyebrows, but he almost immediately understood what she was getting at, and there was a gleam in his eyes of equal manic. "If you're saying that you think he might have put Potter's name in, then I'm thinking the same thing, and I think you're brilliant."

"That _is_ what I'm saying, and thank you," said Vesperra, now smiling inwardly in satisfaction. With her mind in massive theorizing mode, she felt the need to scoot a little away from Severus so that it was easier for her to look him straight in the face while she was talking. "I mean, I don't know much about Bagman, but he used to be a famous Beater, didn't he?"

"Yes, and as I'm guessing you're thinking, he seems to be the sort of man that would do reckless things just for entertainment, doesn't he?"

"But could he have actually managed a Confundus Charm that would work on the Goblet of Fire, though? Do you think he could be skilled enough?"

"Well, from what I've seen, he's not very intelligent—but we've both learned never to debunk something simply because it seemed unlikely."

"So it's possible, then…." Frowning, Vesperra started searching her mind for other details that could lead them to theories (and Severus was doing the same, unconsciously pulling her closer to him again), going so thoroughly as to eventually be scratching at the inner surface of her skull. However, the inevitable, unpleasant thoughts rose to the top rather quickly, and she couldn't help but speak them to let go of the frustration before continuing with other things.

"And of course it has to be Potter again, doesn't it?" she huffed in contempt, her voice low and her face beginning to contort into a scowl. "Every year, it's all about him. Alright—I know that there's a reason for it, but you'd think that maybe one year he wouldn't get himself in mortal danger and at the same time a million times more _famous_." Had her right hand not been occupied with Severus's left, she would have folded her arms and given a small harrumph.

Having expected their conversation to turn this way at some point, Severus didn't feel a pang of sadness quite as strong as he might have otherwise. While he definitely still hated the boy, and nothing, not even the fact that he was determined to protect him, changed that, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of sadness squirm inside of him when Vesperra expressed her obvious lack of concern for Potter's life. For the umpteenth time that year (and the second time in twenty-four hours), he considered just telling her the story he should have told her a long time ago, which would have made everything so much easier. But once again, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Putting that off was getting oddly easier and more casual, like a student procrastinating homework.

"That brat has no bloody idea what he's getting into," growled Severus with just as much contempt, acting as though his thoughts just prior to it hadn't happened. "As much as I'd like to, I wouldn't believe for one second that he'd gotten him name in by himself, but this is only going to make him more arrogant than ever—more like his damn father."

Vesperra felt her stomach twist at the mention of James Potter, who she had known for a little over a year to have relentlessly bullied Severus in his student years as much as Malfoy bullied her. He didn't mention Potter's father often, but when he did, she always felt the need to comfort him and to punch Potter.

"At least it'll only be the Gryffindors actually boosting his arrogance," offered Vesperra in a frustrated sigh, slumping against him. "Everyone else, especially the Slytherins, seem to suddenly hate him now."

"I haven't had the chance to observe any of the students yet, but I suppose I'd have guessed that much," said Severus.

He closed his eyes for a second, and tried to sort away all the dread of the upcoming weeks and months where Potter's life would be in constant danger, where he would be struggling to keep up with everything though any of his theories were likely to be wrong, and where he would have to continuously try to do the impossible and _protect him_.

But now, Severus _couldn't_ protect Lily's son fully, and that hurt him so much. The tasks that the boy would compete in could very easily kill him, and Severus would be able to do absolutely nothing about it. He wouldn't be able to jump in there by himself and save him if things went badly and even professional mediwizards were unable to help. The only comfort he had was in knowing that Karkaroff and Bagman were leads, and that he could, at the very least, keep an eye on them.

When he continued off of what he had been saying out loud, Severus sounded, for all it was worth, _tired_. Tired of life, tired of pain, tired of stress… tired of everything. He was sure that this would come across clearly to Vesperra, especially with the gentle squeeze of his hand that he hoped to convey the fact that she was the only thing keeping him awake. Lily may have been the insomnia, but Vesperra was the bucket of ice water that doused his face and forced him into alertness.

"More importantly, though: whatever Potter does, and whatever this scheme results in—and if it's _not_ Bagman... This means that we have a traitor in our midst."

* * *

**I'm rather proud of myself for writing that scene in Severus's point of view. I've always thought about how much he must have been dreading the rest of the year the moment Harry's name came out of the goblet. How did you like it?**

**Also, if any of you are fans of BBC's _Sherlock_, I'll be posting a Post-Reichenbach one-shot later tonight. So you can watch out for that.**

**Anyway, I'd be so happy if you would review and tell me what you thought of the chapter, what you think is going to happen later, and anything else you want to say! . Review.**


	55. Book 4: Chapter 9

**This is my favorite chapter of Book 4 so far. I think you'll know why once you read it. Also, don't forget to read the A/N at the end.**

* * *

If there was ever a time where an event stuck out so boldly in the minds of Hogwarts students that many of them were _sure_ that this wouldn't wear off for an extremely long time (if at all), it was the week after Halloween. And if anyone who had never been to Hogwarts before just happened to visit, they might not have thought that the castle was a school at all. Truly, it seemed to be more of a building standing solely for the purpose of belittling and bullying others, and of course gossiping about them.

Vesperra, who had attended Hogwarts for a little over three years so far and therefore should have been fully used to all of this by now, was actually a bit overwhelmed on Monday morning to see all the clusters of students, their heads together, and whispers (which were really just half-hearted attempts at whispers) being passed between them. Being a loner herself, she supposed that having the whole rest of the school's population grouped off as though congealing would definitely seem odd from her perspective: a single person walking alone most of the time.

Had she been the sort of person that woke up at a normal time and came down to breakfast when there was already a considerable amount of people there, she'd have easily noticed this before even taking her seat. It wasn't quite noticeable with only about ten other students in the Great Hall, who all didn't have many others to talk to.

But as the morning progressed and more and more students filed in to sit down at their House tables, Vesperra saw what she had expected to see since leaving Severus's office the evening before. Each of the tables had students lumped together in conversation that was no doubt about what had happened on Halloween. The Hufflepuffs were by far the angriest—not only at Potter, but likely at everything. In a sort of detached way, she understood: Hufflepuff House rarely had any glory and were generally seen by everyone else as the House where people with no other defining traits went, whether that was true or not. And for all of them to finally have someone to represent them and make their strengths be known, but then have someone else ruin it… that had to be tough.

While normally a rather pleasant (by general agreement, not necessarily Vesperra's) lot, the Hufflepuffs all looked mutually embittered. While eating, she couldn't help but notice that most of them had their backs turned to the rest of the Great Hall the whole time, which was a first. Other than that, there was just something off about them—and she knew why, but she couldn't quite place what it was.

The Gryffindors, on the other hand, seemed as excited as ever to be the main focus of it all. They were, too, grouped off up and down their table, but the gossip was clearly more positive. Vesperra took a minute's break from her cereal to scan the Gryffindor table for Potter and then watch him, just to see what he was doing. And how he might have been feeling. It didn't seem like an odd thing to do to the others at the Slytherin table, because they were all staring at him as well, voicing their dislike (which had immensely increased since Saturday).

As expected, Potter was sitting with the two others that made up the famous trio—Granger and Weasley, and some other Gryffindors were surrounding him, all smiling and looking excited. Likely asking him how he had gotten his name in. It didn't seem that Potter wanted to answer any of them, though.

Vesperra twisted back around in her seat and turned her attention to her cereal again. She took no more than a five-second sweeping glance at the Ravenclaw table, for they weren't much more interesting as usual. She wasn't surprised at their changed attitude, nor was she surprised that it hadn't gone to the extreme like the Hufflepuffs… and the Slytherins.

Slytherin House could have been seen as angrier than the Hufflepuffs, if you saw it a certain way. But in any case, it was simply their disdain towards Potter and Gryffindors in general that had increased, rather than a sense of vindictiveness coming from their only chance at glory being squashed. The Slytherins already had glory to an extent, anyway—or at least a reputation. And either way, they wouldn't have had a champion to represent them in the Triwizard Tournament. If Potter's name hadn't come out of the goblet, all this anger would have been directed towards the Hufflepuffs. So it was all just a twisted excuse to hate Potter even more, really.

And though she knew the truth to this situation, Vesperra didn't mind it at all; she hated Potter just as much (most likely more, as she actually had a valid reason) as the next Slytherin.

"I can't believe this," Malfoy kept muttering under his breath during breakfast, his cold eyes fixed on the Gryffindor table. A very quick glance upward told Vesperra that he had gotten little sleep in his frustration, as the circles under his eyes were dark. It was both satisfying and slightly frightening to see him that angry. "Bloody—Potter—getting—all—the—fame…," he said, stabbing his eggs once with each word (Vesperra wasn't looking at the moment, but she'd heard the sound of his fork hitting his plate).

"It's always him," huffed Pansy, her voice more high-pitched and yet quieter than usual. "It's _always_ him. Just because he's the damn _Boy Who Lived_. He just wants to take all the glory for himself, the bloody bastard."

Because this was the rare instance where the people around her were spending their time loading all their animosity onto one person who _wasn't_ her, Vesperra was finding it difficult to completely detach herself from this conversation. She had one foot out of her mind-cave, and she found herself actually wanting to listen in on this for a change. It was aggravating, realizing that she was suddenly having at least somewhat social urges like _normal_ people did, but she rationalized it with the fact that knowing what the other Slytherins had to say might be important to know later. So she stepped all the way out of her mind-cave, but remained in hiding as she tilted her head up just enough to be able to see everyone else, listening.

"Right, because none of us would have gone for the same thing if we'd figured out how to get our name in the goblet," chimed in Blaise with the faintest hint of a derisive laugh in his voice. Well, no—Vesperra really couldn't say that he'd "chimed in;" his voice just didn't work with that phrase… but there was no better word for it. It seemed more like he had stepped into the conversation to make a snide remark and then step right back out, as though he had been pretending not to pay attention before. _Perhaps he has his own mind-cave, _Vesperra mused. If he wasn't such a pureblood bigot, she supposed she might have ended up with the same relationship with him as she did with Nott.

"No one ever said that none of us wouldn't have done that, Blaise," retorted Pansy, giving him an annoyed look that made her pug-like nose look even more up-turned. "But when's the last time it was anyone but _Potter_ who did anything worthwhile in this school? It's like the world just revolves around him!"

"Oh, I dunno…," said Daphne, who was leaning her face into her left hand, looking both bored and angry. A lot of her hair was falling into her face, making her look, especially with her scowl, a bit like Vesperra. Come to think of it, most of them were wearing scowls almost identical to Vesperra's. "I wouldn't have tried to put my name in that goblet. Sure, there's the eternal glory and all that, and it sounds good in theory, but I don't think any of us are stupid enough to risk dying, even if it _was_ possible."

"Well, that's why we wanted one of the older Slytherins to enter, wasn't it?" said Tracey, Daphne's (as Vesperra assumed) best friend. "But now Potter's gone and entered, and since he's only a fourth year like us, he's gotten more attention for himself, just like he wanted. And look, all the Gryffindors are _so happy_ for the bloody git…. And they weren't even always the ones who got everything! Not that we would know how it felt, since—you know, we got here the same time Potter did… but we know the Slytherins used to be on top for Quidditch and the House Cup. Now the _famous_ Potter's here, and each year he's gotten more famous. When's he going to let someone _else_ have a chance for attention?"

Honestly, they were all quite surprised to hear all of that from Tracey. Sure, she was often the one to say something clever when they were all bullying Vesperra, but Vesperra didn't think anyone had really pegged the girl as very intelligent. Not stupid, but not a genius. And so the third years and a few Durmstrang students were silent for a second or so, many of them looking at Tracey with a _"Well said,"_ expression. A lot of them seemed not to be able to add to that.

Vesperra couldn't help but agree a bit (though only in the privacy of her own mind), but she foresaw a lot more rants coming up (likely from Malfoy, because he was starting to open his mouth), and she felt that that would be pointless. So, fully aware that she could very well be about to set herself up for ridicule that she mightn't have had otherwise, she tilted her head back so that she was sitting up straight and glared around at them.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she said calmly with a hint of annoyance, shifting casually in her seat and smoothly shifting her gaze back to her breakfast. "You all do realize that Potter's probably the most hated person in Hogwarts right now, right? The Gryffindors are the only ones who like him anymore. We all have what we want—Potter has more attention now, but it's _bad_ attention. Meanwhile, everyone—even Karkaroff and Madam Maxime—is angry that he's in the tournament, but what does it matter? Since when is _Potter_ magically skilled? And I'd figure that _you'd_ all be pretty chuffed that he's in the tournament, as he's likely to die in the first task."

With that, she looked back up at them, and then stuffed a spoonful of cereal into her mouth as though to emphasize her point or top it off. Everyone was staring, but not with the malice that they usually did towards her. Apparently, no one had expected her to speak. Frankly, neither had Vesperra. She also slightly regretted having said so much, because a bit of it was something that she shouldn't have known—she only knew about Karkaroff and Maxime from Severus.

"Alright, I'll give you that one," said a cold, drawling voice; and Vesperra, along with a few others, was surprised to see that it was Malfoy who'd said it. Her frown deepened, and she looked directly at him, her eyes slightly widened in confusion and wariness. "But the fact _does_ stand that Potter figured out how to get his name in even though no one else did, not even _you_, Grease-perra. Now, that'll be a pretty interesting discussion. I'd like to know if your brain just couldn't manage it, or if you just weren't brave enough to enter."

Her frown was suddenly more of a scowl, like before, though it had hardly changed but for the look in Vesperra's eyes. And that was because she had completely expected this to turn on her; she had just wanted to get her point across so that they'd stop going off about how Potter's stealing all the glory.

She opened her mouth, about to say something along the lines of "Brave enough, or _stupid _enough? I thought Greengrass had already established that. And apparently Potter beat _you_ out on it too, Malfoy," but she then heard a voice that wasn't her own:

"Oh _come on_, do any of you honestly think Potter got his name in on his own if even V—if _she_ wasn't able to?"

It was Theodore Nott who had said it, and that was a little surprising, since he usually didn't talk to anyone but his friend, Blaise, during meals. Vesperra was probably the most surprised out of anyone—partly because he had openly (though indirectly) defended her, and partly because he was smart enough to realize that Potter couldn't have put his own name in. Her eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch at the fact that he'd nearly called her by her actual name around the others but still refused to use that nickname for her. She didn't think anyone else had noticed it.

_Just surprise, surprise, surprise, today, isn't it?_

It was good to know that she wasn't the only Slytherin who (rather ironically, as she probably hated him the most) believed Potter had been set up and entered into the Triwizard Tournament by someone else. It meant that someone else besides Severus understood what was going on and that this wasn't all just some joke. Not that she hated Potter any less because of this, or even cared whether he lived through this or not.

"So you think someone else put his name in?" said Pansy skeptically, seeming to speak both for herself and for Malfoy, who was still looking angry and whose arm she was squeezing. She was eyeing the usually quiet boy with a strange sort of frown, and he seemed to be unconsciously making himself smaller after having done something so uncharacteristic as to be somewhat social.

"I think so, yeah," said Nott, returning to his previous sitting position rather than leaning over the table still. "And whoever it is, I don't know whether I want to thank them or curse them."

There was some scattered laughter, and Vesperra glanced towards Nott, who was now focusing on his plate. She did the same, retreating a bit from the mental area of conversation, but then took a sidelong glance at the Durmstrang boys, just to check up on their expressions. Most of them were talking to each other or to one of the older Slytherins sitting nearby, but a couple of them were frowning—seemingly at nothing in particular, and Viktor Krum was staring directly at her, giving her a curious look. The moment her eyes met his, though, he looked away and at his plate.

_Damn._ Krum must have realized. He and Vesperra were the only people at the table who knew exactly what had happened in the chamber at the end of the Great Hall on Halloween night (trusting Vesperra's judgment, as she didn't think Krum was the sort of person who'd have friends whom he told personal things), and he would have remembered all that had happened. She didn't let her eyes linger on him, but instead reverted them immediately to her breakfast, which she had been unconsciously spooning into her mouth the whole time. She was surprised that she hadn't missed and spilt food down her front yet.

Hoping to God that Krum didn't decide to question her after breakfast, Vesperra tuned her ears back into the Slytherins' conversation. What she heard was actually, in a way, satisfying: She, with the unasked help of Nott, had put them in between a rock and a hard place as far as insulting her went. Nearly every meal had to include a decent amount of Bullying-Vesperra-Time, and they were usually able to transition to it quite smoothly. And they might have been able to do that if it hadn't been for Nott's quick argument-and-retreat—that had made it difficult for them to go off on a related tangent and insult Vesperra. Perfectly good proof that she wasn't, in fact, stupid or a coward had been given to them, and there was no way to deny it without sounding like idiots. Well, a lot of them were already idiots, but they were blissfully stupid.

_It'll be a minute or so until they give up with stupid banter and take the _screw it, let's just be irrelevant _route,_ figured Vesperra as she paid mostly audible (occasionally glancing upward or tilting her plate ever so slightly to get a reflection) attention to the talk around her.

And she was right. Without fully relating to the thing said by Pansy before him, Malfoy said, "You know, I'm not sure whether I should be disappointed that it's Potter…. I'd almost rather it be Grease-perra, because even if she didn't die, she'd still be hated by the entire school."

And then, from both Vesperra's thoughts and Tracey: "Wouldn't be much of a change, though, would it?"

It continued like that, and it continued to aggravate Vesperra—but not to the point where she found herself struggling to resist whipping her wand out of her sleeve (though she sort of missed doing that, as it was a bit fun in a messed up way). She had learned a considerable amount of control over the past few years, and all that they were using today weren't exactly the sort of insults that could really hurt her. Of course, there was a certain dull pain that came with just knowing they were all _trying_ to hurt her, but that was something she was used to; and when insults got repetitive, they stung less on their own.

Besides, her mind was elsewhere, yet at the same time exactly where everything else was: Vesperra was trying to pick up on anything that would hint to the possibility of any of her fellow Slytherins knowing about whatever plot there was to kill Potter (otherwise, she would have left breakfast already). After all, a lot of their parents were ex-Death Eaters, and it wasn't highly unlikely that someone might have an idea or was even in on it because of their parents telling them something. Without giving away what she was doing, she paid particular attention to Malfoy, Parkinson, and the Durmstrang boys; with Karkaroff as a suspect, it was possible that they knew something as well. She knew that Nott's father was an ex-Death Eater as well, but there was no need to waste time watching him when she could simply ask him later.

This was something she was doing by herself—Severus hadn't asked her, and she hadn't even told him that she'd planned to do this. Mostly because she hadn't exactly planned it; the idea had come to her on her way to breakfast. He had, in fact, mentioned the both of them doing some spying, and right now she was doing her part. Although, it couldn't really be called "spying," but it was the only thing she was really _able_ to do at the moment, and she would contribute any information that she could. Anything for Severus.

However, her listening in didn't yield anything important but for the fact that the Durmstrang boys were all frustrated that Hogwarts had two champions and that Malfoy was apparently not entirely surprised by Potter having been entered into the tournament. But both of those things were expected, and there was always the possibility that anyone who might have known something was simply hiding it. Malfoy's father might have mentioned Voldemort's inevitable return after fleeing from the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup, and so he might have known something would happen to Potter. That didn't necessarily mean anything, though. And if it _was_ Karkaroff who'd done it, would he have even let his students know? It didn't seem likely.

Vesperra did, though, learn that Malfoy and Pansy had gotten to second base, along with a few other things that she had to delete from her mind once she started leaving the Great Hall with everyone else to get to Transfiguration. It wasn't with too much disappointment that she walked out of there; it had really only been a small hunch to go on, anyway.

The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons lots, she noticed, went in all different directions while the Hogwarts students were headed to lessons. Vesperra supposed that, since they wouldn't actually have lessons during their stay, they were free to just roam the castle and do whatever they wanted. It would have seemed a nice prospect to most students, but she thought that that would be rather boring and definitely harmful to her education. Would they have to make up an entire year once they got back to their respective schools?

Those idle musings floated around in her mind as Vesperra followed the other Slytherins up the spiral staircase, but then the profile of Theodore Nott came into sight. It became clear within a second that he had fallen to the back of the group on purpose: to talk to her.

Making sure that none of the others could see, she moved sideways to walk close enough to Nott so that she wouldn't have to talk loud for him to hear her.

"Er… thanks," said Vesperra slowly and awkwardly, only glancing at him once. "I could have said that myself… but it would have made me sound narcissistic."

His immediate, soft snort of laughter told her that he wasn't at all confused at to what she was referring to.

"So you agree, then?" said Nott.

"That Potter didn't put his own name in?"

"Well, yes, and that you're smarter than Potter and all the other Slytherins combined." Nott spoke this sentence in a slightly lower tone, as though he wanted nothing less than for the others to hear him say that.

The compliment—or rather, a blunt stating of facts—had caught her a bit off-guard, and she suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. Raising an eyebrow, Vesperra glanced between him and the group of Slytherins walking in front of them. And then, when the Transfiguration classroom was in sight, she tilted her head at an angle to him and, the edge of her lips twitching into a slight smirk, said,

"Yeah, I'll agree with that. And… I suppose that I am a bit narcissistic, then."

* * *

Severus couldn't remember the school ever being in such a frenzy of gossip. And if he could hear the thoughts of his friend (she was sitting too far away for him to use Legilimency even if he was actually willing to do that), he would have agreed with her that it was a bit overwhelming. Hogwarts seemed to be more filled with gossip and rumors than it had been when he was a student himself—but perhaps that was because he was now almost forced to pay attention to at least some of it.

It aggravated him (and likely Vesperra too, he thought) somewhat that all the students could be so fixated on jealously for Potter, while he was actually worried for the boy's life and the fate of the Wizarding World. Well, he was really worried for himself, because if he failed to keep Potter alive, then he'll have failed Lily. And that was something he refused to do.

So the whole rest of the castle went on with their pointless worries and feelings, while Severus was already fighting a battle that just might destroy him before the real war even started. And all before breakfast ended, too.

He felt like his senses had been heightened since yesterday. His eyes were flickering faster across faces that he knew he had to keep an eye on, his ears were picking up the more intricate details of the conversation around him (without him using _Sonorego_), and… he just felt more aware. Or at least he thought he did. It might have just been adrenaline that would wear off soon.

Jabbing at the yolk of an egg of his plate (and feeling a very strange sense of satisfaction by seeing the golden liquid trickle out), Severus thought of the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore the evening before. It had been with reluctance that he had told Vesperra she should get back to her dorm only a couple hours or so after lunch, but it had just been the sort of thing he couldn't procrastinate. And, to only a very small bit of surprise that shouldn't have even been there, she had agreed without complaint, squeezed his hand, then given him a tight hug (which he'd reciprocated gladly) before leaving.

As he remembered that, Severus felt a tug on one of the muscles in his cheek, making him feel as though he was smiling—though it wouldn't have looked that way to anyone else. He ripped the edge off a piece of toast and dipped it in the runny yolk of his egg, and then tore off the soaked end with his teeth, resuming remembering.

After waiting a few minutes, he had left his office as well and gone to Dumbledore's office. Whether the man had been terribly busy or not, he would never know, both because Dumbledore was simply too polite of a man to deny someone a conversation in favor of paperwork and because he had actually been expecting him.

"Severus!" the old man had greeted after inviting him in. "I was beginning to think you'd been murdered and lying dead in your office…. Was it Miss D'Monicas that was keeping you this time as well?"

"It was, to an extent," Severus had said rather curtly as he'd sat down. "And if you thought that I might have been lying dead in my office, why did you not bother to check?"

At that, Dumbledore had chuckled.

The rest of their conversation had been a back-and-forth explanation of theories, many of which Severus had already thrown around with Vesperra earlier in the day, as well as many generic things said by the Headmaster that anyone could have predicted ("To be honest, I'm not all too surprised that this has happened," "This will certainly be a trying time for everyone, whether they see it as that or not," "Of course, there really isn't any way to avoid this, so I suppose we're all going to have to wait until whatever's going to happen happens…"). There had also been, quite obviously, a few cryptic, vague turns of phrase that Severus hadn't even bothered to try to figure out.

And then, when Severus had started to feel the build up of frustration, which always occurred whenever he spoke to Dumbledore, get too high, he had ended it with an "Alright, then. I see no point in continuing this conversation further, as you know for a fact that I'm going to do whatever I can to prevent whatever may happen to him."

"That I do, Severus," Dumbledore had said, showing no sign of having been annoyed by his (lieutenant?) colleague's apparent eagerness to leave—probably because he knew that staying in the office was, in a way, hurting Severus, and possibly even that he was aware of how annoying he was. "And I trust that I don't need to tell you anything for you to take care of Miss D'Monicas as well."

He had had (and still did) to admit: That had caught him off guard. It had been enough that, while he had had a slightly painful feeling that he knew exactly what the Headmaster was talking about, he had stopped on his way toward the door and stared directly at the other man with a confused expression. Severus hadn't needed to ask anything for Dumbledore to answer.

"This year may take a toll on her, in several possible ways. You know her better than I do, so I suppose you would know which way is more likely. Voldemort is planning his return as we speak, as you and I both know—so whatever she learns, whether from you or anyone else, I know that you'll be there for her without needing any other incentive. Your involvement is essential to keeping Harry alive, but Miss D'Monicas needs you."

For a moment that still seemed like it had been much longer, even in his memory, Severus had just stared at Dumbledore. Blinking once, he'd said, "I know." And then he had made straight for the door without looking back.

That afternoon, he had left the Headmaster's office feeling as though he'd just wasted an hour, which was a common thing for him to feel after talking to Dumbledore. Not every correspondence between them after some important event was like that, but Severus did find himself disappointed more often than not. But then he'd always remind himself that it was a necessary procedure to go through, as there was always the possibility of Dumbledore having something important to tell him or some seemingly insignificant detail turning out to matter a _lot_. And he knew that it would have been a stupid decision not to talk to him at all, anyway.

The one thing he had regretted, though, and was _still_ regretting back in the present as he washed down his eggs and toast with a gulp of pumpkin juice, was that he had neglected to mention the recent activity of his Dark Mark to Dumbledore. It hadn't twinged at all since the time in his office with Vesperra, but he definitely hadn't forgotten about it—it had been resting on his tongue the whole time, but for some reason he had refused to let it slip out. What was _wrong _with him?

A lot of things, he supposed.

As it often was, especially at meals, Severus was split into two entities at the moment. His body was eating breakfast, not really paying attention to what he was eating but somehow able to keep from screwing up the trajectory of the fork and his mouth; and his mind was doing something entirely different and much more significant: His eyes were the main part of that, roving not only around the House tables of the Great Hall as they usually did, but also quite thoroughly around the Staff Table, as that's where his possible suspects at the moment were.

Though Dumbledore and Moody were as far from being suspects of putting Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire as Severus was, he did take a moment or two for the both of them. The Headmaster looked like he hadn't a care in the world as he ate a bowl full of oatmeal—_okay, next_—and Moody was tilting his head back and downing something from his hip flask (_Drinking this early in the morning?_ thought Severus for a moment, before entertaining the idea that it might not be alcoholic at all). As his head came back down a second later and he started to put his hip flask away, the electric blue eye whirred around to focus on Severus, at which his own eyes practically darted away involuntarily. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Moody's magical eye continue to spin around in its socket, presumably doing the same thing that Severus was doing, only faster and with more ease. He didn't look towards him again and just left the man to it—mad he might have been, but he had an advantage and it would help greatly.

The next people that his mind and eyes flitted to were Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, just as they had been doing for the past couple days. There was a lot of tension there—more so between the individual theories contrasting in Severus's mind than actually between him and the other people. In the minute he spent carefully looking between them and his plate (so that they wouldn't notice him), he noticed Maxime looking over at Hagrid an awful lot (the meaning of which he did _not_ want to think about), and that Karkaroff seemed to be rather reserved, not even talking to Dumbledore, and looking over at the Slytherin table to his own students often. The other man's cold eyes definitely went to Potter a few times, but that easily could have been because of the resentment from the boy having been entered in the tournament. Not that Severus was one to blow off things as coincidences. Anything was a possibility.

Well, mostly anything. There were certain things and people that you _had_ to trust unconditionally, because if you only trusted yourself, then you would go insane from the paranoia.

Moody's eye, Severus noticed, went to Karkaroff pretty often. He started to feel that paranoia sink in for a moment, but then he reminded himself that Moody would _tell Dumbledore_ the moment he realized anything was out of the ordinary. Perhaps he already had, and the Headmaster had just decided not to confide in him.

That thought didn't really help his mood.

_Only a couple days since they've got here,_ he thought bitterly, _and it feels like they've been here a month at the least._ Perhaps it was because both of them (Maxime included because he couldn't rule her out as a possible suspect) were people that he'd prefer to just leave. Severus wanted neither of them here, and their presence had already indirectly caused him great inner turmoil.

Breaking away from the two foreign Heads of Schools, his eyes swept the rest of the staff in considerably less time. Working at Hogwarts (if not just the fact that he lived in the _magical_ world) had taught him to expect anything and everything, so he tried to work out in his head the probabilities of each of his colleagues being a traitor. Of course, whoever had done it didn't necessarily even have to be _at _Hogwarts, but this was all he had to work with right now.

McGonagall was pretty close to being on the list of people he could rule out for sure, but Severus wasn't going to take any chances. Flitwick and Sprout weren't quite as unlikely, but they were just… too innocent. Neither of them had even done anything important in the first war with Voldemort, and while Severus was entertaining any and every possibility, he highly doubted either of them. Sinistra—well, he didn't know enough about her to make an assumption. She usually stayed up in her Astronomy tower all the time. And all the rest of the staff was in the same boat.

With still no idea who had put (or helped put) Potter's name in the goblet and a habit of extreme paranoia when it came to situations like this, Severus was left with only one option: to keep his guard up every step of the way. But he already did that to an extent, anyway, so that didn't make much of a difference. It was, for some reason, a prospect with a lot of gravity on him, though.

Finally, Severus looked around at the students in the Great Hall, this time on purpose rather than by habit. Scanning the Slytherin table, he caught sight of Vesperra pretty quickly and noticed that she was actually _talking_. He assumed that Malfoy must have been saying something cruel, and she had finally snapped back. He hoped that, whatever it was, she had stuck it to him.

And instead of employing the spell he'd invented in order to listen in on them (partly because he didn't want to make himself angrier by listening to their bullying, especially not when he couldn't do anything about it), he moved his gaze over to the Gryffindor table, where Potter and company were.

Severus felt a bit of dormant anger flare up for a moment once he noticed the boy he hated, but he removed his wand from his robes, very carefully pointed it at them, and thought _Sonorego_ almost immediately after. This was the other reason that he hadn't let his gaze linger on Vesperra: He wanted to keep an eye on these three.

"—to them, Harry," Granger was saying, sounding somewhat consoling. "It's not as if we didn't expect this to happen."

"Mm," grunted Potter in response, frowning slightly and stuffing a half of a piece of toast into his mouth. As he chewed, he glanced once at the surrounding, gossiping tables. "Since when do I dwell on what other people think of me, anyway? If I did, I'd be in a crying heap after every lesson with Snape…."

Granger's eyes widened briefly in alarm, and she jerked her frizzy head around for a moment before frowning and saying, "You probably shouldn't say that sort of thing near Neville."

"Oh—right—yeah, sorry…."

"I don't even want to think about what he's going to be like the next time we have Potions…. I expect that's when Snape'll try to poison one of us," sighed Granger, though with a distinct air of self-assuredness that she would be safe. "I'll help you in case you need it, but I won't be able to do much for Neville."

Unbeknownst to those two, Severus was now scowling inwardly and making a mental note to keep an extra eye on Granger during the Potions class two weeks from then.

"Poor bloke," said Potter, glancing at Longbottom. He then turned his head a little, seeming to now be staring at Weasley, who had been eating silently for the past couple minutes. "What about Ron, then?" he continued in a lower tone, apparently not wanting the boy in question to hear him. Severus was pretty sure he still would have heard, though. "You think he's going to talk to me anytime soon?"

Turning around for a few seconds to look at her ginger friend, Granger gave Potter a sort of grimace. "Maybe. If he doesn't stop being such a stubborn prat, that is."

At that, there was the sound of metal against wood, which turned out to be Weasley setting his fork down harsher than was necessary. He then turned to Granger, looking angry with his face nearly as red as his mop of hair, and looking like he was making an effort not to look at Potter.

"Hey," said Weasley seriously, one hand gripping the table and the other being used to point at Granger in almost a reprimanding manner. "_Percy_ is a prat. I am _not_ a prat. Harry's the one making up excuses, so excuse me for being tired of it, Hermione!" That came out as a low whisper that was almost a hiss, but still loud enough that Potter had likely caught a few words at the very least.

"I—you know what, Ron," said Granger, now rather flushed herself, "I'm not arguing about this with you right now. Harry's right _there_, so if you have something to tell him, you do it. I'm not going to be your owl."

Weasley stared at her with the same, indignant expression for another moment before turning back to his breakfast plate, muttering, "I _don't_ have anything to say to him."

When Granger turned back, her expression implied that Potter was frowning at her (Severus didn't know for sure, as he could only see part of Potter's profile), and she frowned back. "Oh, now don't make this seem like it's my fault, Harry."

"You really didn't have to say anything to him, you know."

Without waiting for Granger to respond, Severus let his focus break and the spell lost effect, so he could no longer hear them or see them so clearly. He didn't feel like watching children bicker if he wasn't going to get anything important out of it—but he did feel a twisted sense of satisfaction from the now obvious fact that Potter's own best friend had even turned against him because of this. The boy's _life_ was what he cared about, not anything else—so it didn't matter to Severus if Potter's reputation was ruined. In fact, he couldn't help but be glad. It meant that, whatever satisfaction from the attention and fame that Potter would be feeling, the whole rest of the school will have finally seen him in a negative light and stopped with the hero-worship.

Severus tried not to think of how none of that would matter if Potter ended up dying in the first task.

* * *

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champion."

In stark contrast to their previous attitude, the Slytherins, especially Malfoy, were all actually glad, in a way, to see Potter. It might have been because of what Vesperra had said, but she figured that they would have come to that conclusion on their own eventually, anyway. Under normal circumstances, they'd have all been extremely reluctant to go to Care of Magical Creatures (and some still were) if only because of the Skrewts; but now, the lot of them were eager to be face to face with Potter for the first time since he had become champion. And once again, it was mostly Malfoy, who had a sneer locked in place that had been there since leaving the Transfiguration classroom.

"Got your autograph books?" said Malfoy sarcastically to Crabbe and Goyle, a derisive laugh evident in his voice. He apparently hadn't said it with enough sarcasm, as his cronies only looked as though they were pretending to get the joke. Potter looked unamused by it—he had probably been expecting it. "Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer…. Half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed along with him, but then the three of them stopped abruptly, because Hagrid had just emerged from the back of his cabin. Malfoy probably wouldn't have cared about the Gamekeeper hearing him if it weren't for the threat of telling Moody from the alternate-daily evenings of observing the Skrewts a while ago…. And at that thought, Vesperra smirked inwardly.

Any happiness from having the chance to ridicule Potter that a lot of the Slytherins had was pushed aside at once at the sight of the tower of crates that Hagrid was carrying: It was both because it looked ready to topple over from his arms (for which Vesperra was prepared to stop, her right hand already fingering her wand in her sleeve), and because they could be filled with only one thing.

"Dear-_bloody_-God no," muttered Nott under his breath, right next to Vesperra a little ways behind the cluster of the other Slytherins. They both shared a mutual, very worried look before going back to staring at the crates that Hagrid was starting to set down on the ground. At least they hadn't fallen on everyone.

"I know how you feel," she muttered back, feeling a wave of dread that was a completely different sort from what she had been feeling constantly since Halloween.

"Ev'ryone gather roun', now," said Hagrid cheerfully when he had finished putting all the crates down in front of him. With great reluctance, the class shuffled forward, not liking the smile on Hagrid's face. "Yeh mighta noticed tha' there's a bit less cages now, and tha's because some o' the Skrewts 'ave killed the other ones. Not to worry, there's still enough—they've jus' got some pent-up energy. So ter make sure they don't keep killin' each other, yeh should all pick a Skrewt and take it on a walk!"

He looked rather pleased with himself for having come up with that plan, which contrasted greatly to the looks of horror on each of the students' faces. Hagrid didn't seem to notice that, though.

"Right, because the last thing we want is for them to _stop_ killing each other," said Vesperra quietly and harshly, speaking mostly to herself but also allowing Nott to hear her. "Now they might start killing _us_, instead! Fantastic!"

Nott's expression showed clearly that he agreed with her, but he said, just as quietly, "Personally, I wouldn't mind if they killed anyone but you or me."

It took a second for it to hit her, but when it did, Vesperra felt a bit strange, knowing that there was someone besides Severus who cared whether she lived or died, and that person didn't even know her that well. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, but then brushed it off and focused instead on what the hell they were supposed to do about the Skrewts.

"Take this thing for a walk?" said Malfoy, who was several feet away, in disgust. He was staring into one of the boxes but still keeping his distance, obviously afraid to get too near the thing inside—and Vesperra actually didn't blame him. She could see inside a crate from where she was standing, and the Skrewts were now all over three feet long and could actually be classified as monsters. They were no longer shell-less and colorless, but now covered in a sort of armor, like a lobster's. The only thing was that they were indefinitely much more dangerous than a giant lobster could be.

"And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash?" Malfoy went on in his most condescending voice. "Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, still not appearing to realize what Malfoy was getting at. He picked up a leather leash from a pile on the ground, and then tipped a crate on its side. "Er—yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like." As he spoke, the Skrewt from the crate he had just tipped over seemed to be disoriented for a moment, wriggling to get back on its stomach. Before it could get the chance to scuttle away, Hagrid managed to grab it with his meaty hands and wrap the leash around it. When he did, he looked, once again, rather pleased. The Skrewt, on the other hand, even though it didn't have a face and therefore couldn't express it, must not have been very happy.

It looked easy in theory, but then again, Hagrid was much bigger than all of them. _And good to know that he finally gives a damn about precaution,_ thought Vesperra.

Tipping over a second crate, Hagrid said, "Harry—you come here an' help me with this big one…."

That was seen by most as a signal that they were all on their own now, as a great deal of awkward shuffling and unsure looks occurred directly after. Some of the Gryffindors tentatively approached the crates—probably willing to attempt it only to keep up their reputation as the bravest House, but most of the Slytherins stayed where they were, and several even stepped back. Vesperra wasn't one of the latter, but she was determined to avoid handling the Skrewts at all.

"Well, what're yeh waitin' for?" said Hagrid to those who hadn't moved yet once he'd gotten a leash on the large one. At his eager look, Vesperra and (she guessed) many others only felt even more unwilling to do something like this. But soon, with some taking longer than others, they relented.

"_Eurgh_ no, I am _not_ doing this," Vesperra heard Pansy say in a sort of whine of a voice, though she was rummaging in her school bag for her gloves as she spoke. She and Tracey and Daphne were all making the same, extremely reluctant and somewhat pouting face. Vesperra's, however, was her usual scowl, and for the next thirty seconds or so as she searched for her gloves and put them on, it was directed towards Hagrid.

A few feet away, Nott already had his gloves on, but he was standing still and staring at the crates with a look of horrible resignation, as though he was about to commit suicide—but really, he might have been. As she straightened up and looked at him, having left her bag on the ground, she gave a small, ironic smirk.

"Ready to risk your life for absolutely no reason?" he said, noticing her take a step nearer to him.

"Not at all," she sighed. "But we've got to do it anyway, don't we?"

"Well, not really." Vesperra took a second during Nott's pause to look around at everyone else, from which she was sure that no one would notice her talking to him, as they were all kept rather busy with their Skrewts. "We could just leave while Hagrid's not looking."

She briefly remembered the lesson last year which she had left in the middle of, but pushed that out of her mind at once. "You know what?—No. Not even Malfoy has backed out of participating, and I refuse to be even more of a coward than him." _No matter how stupid and bloody dangerous it is._

Without warning to Nott, Vesperra immediately walked forward confidently (not to say that she felt no qualms, though), away from him both physically and mentally: she had detached herself from his presence and practically forgotten he was even there. After she had grabbed a leash from the dwindled pile, there was only a split second of hesitation before she pulled hard on one edge of a box to tip it on its side.

Having a creature like a lobster-scorpion mix the size of a large dog on the ground in front of her was suddenly frightening and enough to raise her blood pressure, making her heart skip a beat and do an odd pirouette of sorts; but Vesperra wasted no time in looping the leash around the writhing Skrewt's middle and pulling it tight.

It was a relief to have that thing restrained, but the next part—actually walking it around the small field—was exponentially more difficult. Around her, a few people were walking at a quick pace to keep up with their Skrewts, which were scuttling around in random directions. And that was the best of it: Most of the rest were either practically dancing on the spot to avoid being burnt or stung, or struggling to get back on their feet as their Skrewt dragged them forward at a fast speed. One person had even let go of his Skrewt altogether—and that was Longbottom, to no surprise.

While she would have liked to just watch Malfoy (who was one of those who already had burns, despite having only recently started) and the several other people whom she hated struggle and get injured, Vesperra had her own Skrewt to focus on. She might have thought of how it was at least a good thing that Malfoy and the other Slytherins were too distracted to say anything to her if she wasn't so preoccupied.

And whatever Hagrid might have thought, these things _weren't_ like dogs. Vesperra was sure that walking would do absolutely nothing for them, and while they probably did want to run around, they most certainly did not want to be kept on leashes. Her Skrewt started going very fast at the first chance it had to walk properly, and she nearly tripped on her own feet in an attempt to keep up with it, at the same time almost accidentally letting go of the leash. Despite the fact that her life held more value for her than her dignity, she tried extremely hard not to fall over and be dragged along so as to not be humiliated.

But falling over would also have risked her falling straight onto the stinger, and Vesperra didn't doubt that its poison could be deadly. If she were to get seriously hurt, she knew that Severus would be at the door of Hagrid's hut later that evening—and though that was a pleasant thought, she didn't think getting stung was worth it. The entire time she was running after the Skrewt, there was a single string of thoughts going on in her head on loop: _Damn, damn, damn, damn, bloody dammit, damn you Hagrid, bloody—hell—damn—shit—GOD DAMMIT—_

Suddenly and apparently randomly, the Skrewt slowed down enough for her to only have to walk, and Vesperra realized that it had brought her rather far from Hagrid's hut. But in the couple seconds she dared to spare for other thoughts, she saw that the class was completely scattered everywhere, so it didn't matter. And then, just as she returned her focus to the monstrous creature she had on a leash, its end exploded.

Many more expletives went through her mind as she failed to jump out of the way in time, the hem of her robes caught on fire, and she along with her Skrewt was propelled forward several feet. In a state of panic (though she tried to appear calm on the outside), she redirected her attention from the leash to the smoke coming from her robes and immediately tried to stamp it out. That was quite difficult, though, considering her position. She managed to get to her feet, but she still had to skid on the side of her shoes and stop her robes from smoking at the same time.

A few seconds of that pandemonium was all it took to disengage Vesperra's sense of control and unravel all rationality—and so, all in less than five seconds, she let go of the leash, reached down to suffocate the small fire with her gloved hand, pulled out her wand with the other, and jerked it at the Skrewt, muttering something under her breath.

The spell created no light (though it should have), but the creature was knocked a few feet to the side and landed on its back, apparently unconscious. As she tried to catch her breath and let the blood flow back to her head, it took her a few seconds to realize exactly _what_ words had come out of her mouth; and when she did, she felt very grateful that no one had been in close enough proximity to see or hear it. At the same time, though, she felt strangely impressed with herself in a way that she really shouldn't have.

Vesperra slowly stepped over to the Skrewt and prodded it with her foot, not exactly sure what she hoped to happen next. But then one of its many insect-like legs twitched, and that told her that it was still alive—once again, she didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved about that. On one hand, she was less likely to be in monumental trouble, but on the other, it meant that her frustration hadn't been enough to effectively use that curse.

Truthfully, she hadn't intended to attempt the Killing Curse. _Avada Kedavra_ had just come out of her mouth on its own, and it had damn near worked on that Blast-Ended Skrewt…. Perhaps it was because it had been an instinctual reaction and she hadn't been fully focusing on it. And she couldn't help but wonder: _Would Moody be impressed or angry about that?_

But there was no more time for wondering about that sort of thing, because her problem was now making sure no one realized that she had nearly killed her Skrewt. Well, just not Hagrid. Since it was only unconscious at the moment, she tried pulling hard at the leash to rouse it a bit. That was pretty difficult, though, because the Skrewts were _not _very light-weighted. Vesperra knew no spells that would help, so her only choice was to continue tugging for the next couple minutes, each time dragging it a little.

"Merlin, what the hell did you do to it?"

_Damn._ Vesperra stopped pulling and turned to see Nott approaching her, his robes a bit torn, but Skrewt-less. He was panting as well, frowning back and forth between her and the thing she was dragging.

Though she was tempted to simply reply "Nothing," she knew that Nott wasn't an idiot, and so it would only make things worse to be vague like that. So instead, her mind whirred as it went through several acceptable answers and she said, "Just… cursed it. Couldn't help it. But it's fine, only unconscious—not that that's a reassuring thought." Honestly, Vesperra wasn't sure why she was lying to him. Theodore Nott was the one person besides Severus she was pretty sure she could trust to keep his mouth shut, and he was also the one person that actually seemed to be genuinely impressed with everything she did. Surely he would be at least somewhat awed at the fact that she had nearly pulled off the Killing Curse when it had only been on impulse?

Perhaps it was because she remembered his dislike for the Killing Curse, as he had seen it used on his mum.

Either way, it had already been said, and she felt it was best to keep it that way.

"Oh," said Nott, still staring at the Skrewt. A few seconds later, his expression changed, and he slowly rotated his neck to look up at Vesperra at an angle. "Wait… _Merlin_, you didn't…?"

She let him trail off, and didn't make any effort to respond just yet. Scrutinizing his face, she realized that he didn't seem horrified—but instead in a sort of hesitant awe. Without warning, she broke eye contact with him and looked down at the Skrewt.

"I would have if the spell had worked properly. But—trust me, I didn't mean to use the spell at all in the first place."

When she looked back up, there were a few more seconds of Nott looking at her strangely, in which Vesperra felt quite awkward. She wondered if she should say something—and if she did, whether it should be along the lines of "You don't have to just stand there and be impressed," or "Sorry."

"_Well,_" said Nott, scratching his neck in an apparent attempt to make things normal. "D'you need help dragging that?"

Vesperra felt like smirking, but her body's automatic instinct in reaction to an offer of help was to frown. "No, it's fine," she said, unwittingly a bit harsh. He didn't seem to mind—_He's probably used to it by now, _she thought.

"Alright… Ah, damn, I think it's waking up."

Quickly glancing down at the Skrewt, Vesperra saw that he was right. The creature's legs were twitching more and more—it was a somewhat creepy sight. Although, she doubted it would just resume being as energetic—as Hagrid would call it—and figured that it might be easier to drag this way. She would just be leading it along.

"At least Hagrid won't realize anything's up. Hell, he might even decide that I've done the best job in getting my Skrewt to _calm the hell down_," said Vesperra, starting to tug at the leash again and trying to help the thing flip back over. When she succeeded, it wasn't too difficult to walk it back and keep it under control, as it was a bit sedated like she'd guessed.

"It's almost too bad you _didn't_ kill it, though," said Nott with a sort of a laugh in his voice as he walked with her. "Maybe you can just sneak out of the castle tonight and kill them all, and then Hagrid'll think they killed each other."

"Excellent plan," she said, half-serious. "I'm actually pretty tempted to do that—but then what would kill Malfoy?" _Adding that to the list of murder methods,_ she noted mentally as she said that.

"Well, he's about half-dead already, along with the rest of the class." Nott jerked his thumb over to all the other students in the gradually decreasing distance, and Vesperra saw that nearly everyone, like her, had their robes torn and their skin burnt, some people still trying to get their Skrewts back to the main area near Hagrid's hut. Malfoy was among those who were trying to get their Skrewts back in a crate, and he seemed to be nearly getting bitten in the process. Vesperra smirked, but it faded quickly.

"Hey—you better hurry up and get over there before anyone notices you walking with me," she warned him in a casual tone. She could have sworn that she actually cared, to an extent, about Nott's reputation (though he didn't really have much of one), and she didn't like it.

Hesitating only a second, he said, "Right." With a small nod and the ghost of a smile, he quickened his pace and moved away from her.

* * *

The next two weeks passed a bit too slowly for Vesperra's taste, but she wasn't exactly sure _why_ she wanted time to go by faster. It might have been that she disliked having her time spent around Malfoy and others who regularly insulted (and occasionally _assaulted_) her being stretched out, but that also would have meant that she wanted the year to hurry up and get to summer. And she knew she didn't want that.

Perhaps she was just anxious for the first task—anxious to see Potter either humiliated or killed. Or both.

All of Hogwarts, especially her fellow Slytherins, seemed to be tying to punish Potter as much as possible. For once, he was actually being shunned by the rest of the school… and for Vesperra, it felt great. Sure, she didn't hate Potter nearly as much as she hated Malfoy, but having at least one of her enemies (though _he_ didn't necessarily know they were enemies) in such a position was refreshing. Besides, it gave Malfoy something to keep him busy. Most of her worry now lied in Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, though, as they were Gryffindors. They had taken the advantage of Severus being distracted during the Potions lesson the first Friday after Halloween and been rather relentless towards Vesperra. At least it had mostly been before class started and after it ended.

While she foresaw something similar happening on the Friday directly after that one, she did look forward to another Potions lesson, the second week in a row. There were several reasons for that, but one of the main ones was the simple fact that she would have just a little extra time with Severus.

On the afternoon before that lesson, Vesperra noticed Malfoy smirking to himself a lot during lunch. It was suspicious, and she wasn't the only person who noticed it: Pansy, who was always sitting the closest to him these days, asked him about it twice. And both times he said (the second in a somewhat more annoyed tone), "Hold on, I'll tell you later." Vesperra found that even more suspicious, but at the same time, she might not have wanted to know.

It turned out, though, that when Malfoy had said that he would tell Pansy, he meant that he was going to tell _everyone_—surprisingly, Vesperra included. Once the third year Slytherins made it to the dungeons and stood outside the door of the Potions classroom, he immediately let his schoolbag slide off his shoulder and onto the ground, and then opened it and removed from it a bag before standing up straight again and facing everyone, who were all staring at him curiously at this point.

Well, Vesperra was scowling in his general direction, but that was close enough. Leaning against the wall and folding her arms, she waited to see just what this was all about.

"Alright, I wasn't going to pull these out during lunch where the Gryffindors might have seen—and I wanted to show you guys first," said Malfoy, his pale face going slightly pink with excitement and his voice now much less of a drawl than it usually was. "I've been working all week on these."

And with a smirk that Vesperra would have been afraid to see in any other situation, he reached into the bag he had and pulled out something that looked like a disc, then handed it over to Pansy. He quickly did the same with Crabbe and Goyle and the others around them. Each of them smirked when they took one and looked down at it, and Pansy started giggling very hard.

"Great idea, isn't it?" said Malfoy to his girlfriend, his pale gray eyes lighting up. "I thought the school could use something like this—you know, just for some extra support. Or lack thereof, if you're talking about Potter," he added in a malicious laugh. "Go on, put them on!"

Before Vesperra had the chance to really be confused or even have a complete thought to wonder what the hell was going on, Malfoy walked up to her as well. This time, however, he was displaying none of his usual loathing towards her, and so the animosity seemed one-sided at the moment. It felt odd.

"Here, Grease-perra, take one," he said, handing her what she could now see to be a large badge, on which were red, glowing letters in the shape of the message:

_**Support CEDRIC DIGGORY—the REAL Hogwarts Champion!**_

"And they change, too—" He pressed it downward with his thumb, and the message changed to a green _**POTTER STINKS**_. Malfoy smirked even more widely, shaking the badge insistently and holding it closer to her.

"Ah," Vesperra let out a dull noise of understanding, not exactly enthusiastic about it. Still scowling at him, she removed one arm from the fold of the other and took it, purposely trying to make sure that her hand didn't touch Malfoy's. "Clever," she said icily, though there was a bit of truth to it. "Glad to see you've got a new hobby, then. Strange, I never would have pegged you as the artsy type."

He kept smirking—Vesperra thought it might have gotten bigger, even. "I thought you'd say something like that," he said, coldness seeping back into his voice for a moment. She didn't like the sound of it; in fact, she'd have preferred a completely cold voice to this. "And I'm glad to see that you appreciate it. Although, you shouldn't expect this to be a full time thing. It'll take a lot to distract me from my favorite hobby." Without warning, he switched back to being almost creepily cheerful—in his voice, at least. Not his eyes. "Come on, put it on. You may be as low as Potter as far as my scale goes, but there's no discrimination in this. _Potter stinks,_ remember that."

As he moved away to give badges to the rest of the Slytherins who hadn't gotten one yet, Vesperra scowled at him and leaned further into the wall. She was feeling an extremely odd sensation that she could only vaguely remember feeling once before, but she couldn't put a name to it. It might not have even had a name. She couldn't even distinguish whether or not it was negative. Whatever it was, though, it was… interesting. All she knew was that she had the urge to both punch Malfoy in the face and continue having a somewhat civilized conversation with him at the same time.

_And you may be _even lower_ than Potter as far as my scale goes,_ thought Vesperra as she turned the badge in her hand, _but I'll wear your stupid badge._

With a large part of her extremely reluctant and screaming at the rest of her that nothing was worth touching what Malfoy had touched—and least of all _wearing_ it, she undid the pin on the back of it and attached it to the front of her robes. She looked down at it and sighed inwardly, still trying to figure out the odd feeling she was having. Perhaps, she vaguely thought, it was that she had just realized that she and Malfoy were so much more than two teenagers who loathed each other very much—more than just a bully and a victim who occasionally got revenge. The word _enemy_ wasn't enough, and the word _arch-enemy_ was becoming something more accurate and less of a phrase that she thought to herself occasionally. It was different because the two of them could actually have civil conversations, with both of them suppressing the urge to (quite literally, not even in an exaggerated sense) kill each other but being very blatant about the fact that they wanted to—and not only kill, but _destroy_ each other. The other difference was that, though Vesperra hadn't realized it before, she was really starting to _enjoy_ having an enemy, to an extent. She was going to get rid of him—either metaphorically or literally—someday, but for now, she could enjoy the small battles. Especially the ones on each other's minds.

So she didn't mind playing along so much, mostly because she did hate Potter very much and want to mess with him. Vesperra normally didn't openly participate in this sort of thing, but she also normally wasn't encouraged to. It wasn't the sort of thing she was going to refuse to be a part of simply because everyone she hated was doing it.

Soon enough, the sound of footsteps echoed slightly in the dungeon corridors, and none other than Potter, Weasley, and Granger came around the corner, some of the other Gryffindors following behind. Malfoy, who had now given a badge to everyone, turned to face them at once, his eyes lighting up again.

"Like them, Potter?" he said loudly as they approached. Potter wore a frown that was steadily getting angrier, but so far quite mild. "And this isn't all they do—look!" Malfoy then pressed the badge into his chest, and it changed into the second message. The Slytherins automatically broke into howls of laughter—but of course, Vesperra didn't even smirk, as usual. Really, it wasn't _that_ funny—the only pleasure was that it aggravated Potter. She just glared at him and pressed her badge as well, just as everyone else did. Now, the dim corridor had a greenish light to it from all the messages of _**POTTER STINKS**_ glowing.

Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey were all laughing harder than anyone, and their shrieks went up to such a high pitch that it was getting pretty annoying. Vesperra supposed it was a feminine thing.

"Oh _very_ funny," said Granger sarcastically to them, "really _witty_." She was starting to go a bit red, as well as Potter. Weasley, however, was standing against the wall with Thomas and Finnigan—and because of Severus, Vesperra knew why.

"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Vesperra felt a spark of anger at hearing the word "Mudblood," as she'd always hated it, but it wasn't personal and so it didn't last long. It was also overridden by slight confusion: _Funny, he didn't say anything of the sort to me just a minute ago._

But then, Potter (not unexpectedly) quickly drew his wand, and it was clear what was about to happen. A lot of people started and scrambled out of the way of fire, Vesperra being one of the first and the swiftest. She had managed to side-step out of the way and be one of the few who didn't look like they were panicking.

"Harry!" warned Granger—but to no avail, because Potter didn't move, and he kept his eyes fixed on Malfoy, who was drawing his own wand.

"Go on, then, Potter," he said quietly, appearing to have both expected and hoped for this. Vesperra didn't think he could have been happier unless it had been her on the other end of the possible duel. "Moody's not here to look out for you now—do it, if you've got the guts—"

There was then a split second in which the two boys just looked at each other, and Vesperra's heart rate sped up in eagerness, a manic smirk now on her face. She didn't even bother trying to decide who she would prefer to win, though.

They each pointed their wand at the other at the same time, Potter yelling "_Furnunculus!_" and Malfoy, "_Densaugeo!_"

Jets of light shot from both wands, the shock of which made Vesperra's heart temporarily stop, and they hit each other, dead-on, in midair. She moved further out of the way, just in case, as they ricocheted off at angles—but Malfoy's hit Goyle, causing huge boils to spring up all over his face; and Potter's hit Granger, but she brought her hands up to her face so quickly that Vesperra couldn't see what had happened to her.

"Hermione!"

In the midst of Goyle and Granger's cries of pain, Weasley panicked and hurried to his friend. As Vesperra watched, he started dragging her hands away from her mouth, revealing her now extremely enlarged front teeth, which continued to elongate even as she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

Looking back and forth between the two, Vesperra was suppressing the urge to laugh, but did smirk a little wider; the sound of their pain was music to her ears. This wasn't at all what she had expected to happen, but needless to say, things had gotten better.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a familiar voice that made both Vesperra's smirk widen and her chest go warm, despite how soft and deadly it was this time.

_Excellent, yes, even better._

* * *

Severus had just been shaking off an irritating Karkaroff that had been trying to talk to him again, and he resented having to come to his own class so late. And he was frustrated about it as well when he came upon _this_ scene.

It was odd in virtually every possible way. Aside from Granger and Goyle having their hands over their faces, Malfoy and Potter with their wands out, and many other students backed up against the wall, all the Slytherins were wearing some sort of badge—including Vesperra, which Severus found odder than anything. Quickly scanning the immediate area, he saw that they all said _**POTTER STINKS**_. But without taking any time to think about that, he returned his focus to the situation.

A lot of the Slytherins clamored to give their explanations (not including Vesperra, ironically), but plenty of words were overlapping and hardly any of it was intelligible. Getting angrier, he pointed a finger at Malfoy at once and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir—" he started to say.

"We attacked each other at the same time!" shouted Potter.

_Like that would help your case, _thought both Vesperra and Severus. It was like he had expected; there was no way something like this could happen and Potter hadn't been involved. Now one thing was clouding the rest of his judgment: No matter what evidence anyone gave in Potter's defense, the brat was going to have detention. This was a chance for Severus to punish him simply in a ventilation of his own hatred for him and his father, and also something to keep Potter under his watch for a while. But either way, he wouldn't be swayed.

"—and he hit Goyle—look—"

Malfoy gestured to his friend, and Severus looked down (he didn't have to look down that far, though, as the boy was huge) at him and examined his boil-covered face. _Simple hex. Could have done worse. Wouldn't mind seeing those on Malfoy's face—and would definitely like to see Vesperra's face if she saw him like that._

But he kept his face impassive instead of smirking, and said calmly, "Hospital wing, Goyle."

"Malfoy got Hermione!" shouted Weasley before Goyle had even started hobbling off down the corridor. "_Look!_"

Severus raised an eyebrow, disliking being spoken to like that, but didn't say anything as the ginger pried his friend's hands away from her mouth, giving him the full view of Granger's usually large, but now elongated (to at least a foot) front teeth. He'd like to have smirked at how fitting it was that Malfoy's hex would have hit her when it hadn't even been intentional, but he didn't. Behind him, Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne were pointing at Granger and almost rolling on the floor with how hard they were silently giggling; he didn't see it, but Vesperra did. And honestly, she was a bit tempted to do the same.

Looking coldly at the know-it-all, Severus immediately had a thought strike him and said, "I see no difference."

To his immense and very screwed up satisfaction, Granger let out a whimper and, her eyes having filled up with tears, turned on her heel and ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight. He didn't call her back, as she really did need to go to the Hospital wing to get those fixed; and he would have had to implement all his strength not to start laughing a little had it not been for the din created in the dungeon corridor not a second later.

Potter and Weasley, both obviously hating him very much right now, started shouting at him at the same time—and once again, he couldn't understand everything. Several words stuck out, though, the nicest of which were "bloody wanker" and "sadistic bastard."

A ways to the side, Vesperra's almost-laughter from what he had just done to Granger had turned into a scowl, as any time Severus was insulted, she felt insulted as well—even worse than if someone insulted her, because she was quite used to being insulted. She tried to keep from flushing with indignation, but her face felt hot despite her efforts.

Severus, though, seemed calm about all of it. Sure that he must have been furious, Vesperra couldn't help but be impressed at her friend's ability to keep it all completely and utterly bottled in. She needed to practice her control more.

"Let's see," he said silkily once Potter and Weasley had quieted down. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

At that, Severus turned around and walked to the door, pushed it open, and all of the students followed. Everyone's reactions were evenly split: the Slytherins were all sniggering, and the Gryffindors looking angry. As Vesperra passed through the door, she was smirking again, her mood having gone through a drastic flux and rising rather high. She glanced at Severus, and, for a moment, he met her gaze and held it.

And for that moment, Vesperra was feeling an extremely strong and undeniable urge to break into laughter with him, then give him a celebratory high-five that would turn into a hand-squeeze. Too bad she'd have to wait.

* * *

**The main part of why this chapter is my favorite so far is because I got to write the "I see no difference" scene. It's the ultimate _BURNNNNN_ moment.**

**And you know, the more I write about Theodore Nott, the more I like him. If I can't have a Severus, I want a Nott in my life.**

**Also, I loved writing the relationship development between Vesperra and Malfoy. And if you like my HP fanpage on Facebook, you might already know this, but I think that their relationship is a lot like Moriarty and Sherlock's. It's always been complex between them, and I think anyone who just says it's a normal school grudge is kidding themselves.**

**And that led me to thinking that if Vesperra and Malfoy had a theme song, it might be _I Can't Decide_ by The Scissor Sisters, or possibly _Your Guts (I Hate 'Em)_ by Reel Big Fish. I'd like you guys to tell me what song you think best fits their relationship, and whether you agree with me or not. Also, I want to know what actress you think would be the best choice to portray Vesperra were this story to become a movie.**

**With answers to those questions, what you thought of this chapter, and/or theories for what may happen next, PLEASE leave a review!**


	56. Book 4: Chapter 10

**Woot, another early chapter! I'm really glad for the extra free time, because I'm planning on writing another Sherlock oneshot this weekend. And I also have a major test to study for. **

**Anyway, just to clear up any confusion, the line breaks in the chapter's won't always mean a POV change anymore-it could just be a time-lapse sort of thing. Also, I wanted to tell you that I might have gone a bit overboard with the references in this chapter. Some might be more obvious than others, but I will tell you that there's several Sherlock references and one reference to song. See if you can spot them... Enjoy reading! :D**

* * *

"Antidotes!"

As skilled Severus was in employing Occlumency and keeping a sturdy mask over his feelings, some of his anger spilt over into his voice and into his eyes as he looked around the dungeon at his students. Of course, he didn't exactly want to hide that he was in an unpleasant (that was the nice word for it) mood—and it wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Any idiot would have known how furious he still was after what had just happened in the hallway.

His black eyes were glittering, but otherwise cold, and any bit of vindictiveness he had been feeling for anything was now fully directed towards Potter.

"You should have all prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…."

Severus glanced at Potter, meeting his eyes for a second, and his own eyes flashed maliciously. Dread was evident on the boy's face, and that was enough to send a wave of satisfaction over him. Surely Potter now knew what was coming, as would everyone else without even having to see the shared look between them.

Having the son of the man who had ruined his life as a child yell at him had made him angrier than anyone could have guessed—except perhaps Vesperra. Even if any of the other students knew that he and James Potter had been enemies, they still didn't know him personally, and so they had no idea how his mind worked. Vesperra knew, to an extent, though. She would know that any defiance at all on Potter's part was like a flashback to being tormented as a child, and that being yelled at and practically ridiculed was enough to tear apart at all the walls he had built up. Severus was an _adult _now, God dammit, and he was _not _going to take any abuse from someone of Potter's lineage.

And of course, it wasn't just that. There was also the suddenly extremely obvious likenesses to his father, in that he thought he was superior to everyone else—superior enough, in fact, to get away with attacking another student and yelling at a teacher. He refused to stand for it; he would _not_ have a perfect replica of James Potter strutting around Hogwarts, especially not one who was a Hogwarts champion. And there were so many other things that he couldn't put into words, not even into vague thoughts—but they still fueled his hatred and fury and the both heart-racing and painful sensation coursing through him, which would, he knew, only be sated by revenge.

So he was going to poison Potter, and that was easily conveyed by both the unpleasant glittering in his eyes and his head's slight (though unintentional) inclination toward Potter. At the moment, Severus hated the boy so much that he nearly forgot entirely about the fact that he was supposed to keep him alive—but luckily he didn't, so he had no intention to actually harm him. No, the poison would be for the purpose of fear and humiliation only. Fear was, after all, one of the most powerful weapons there was, and also a very useful biological one. It twisted minds and broke sanity… and that, in turn, would lead to Potter being humiliated even worse.

As Severus walked slowly back to his desk, he noticed that Potter was alone at his table, since even Weasley, who believed that his (former?) best friend had put his name in the goblet, wasn't sitting with him. This was _perfect_—it was as though the forces of the Universe were finally converging to actually help him, if only for a couple hours: Not only would Granger's absence mean a significantly more peaceful lesson than usual, but it also meant that no effort would have to be put forth in order to keep Potter from cheating and doing well on his antidote. And with Weasley sitting with Thomas and Finnigan, Potter didn't even have a bit of verbal support. He was alone both physically and mentally, and that only added to the unconventional punishment Severus was giving him. _Fear, humiliation, and loneliness._ The three components to miserable insanity. Severus would know.

The plan itself was enough to ease some of the anger and unidentifiable pressure on him and make him smirk inwardly, but Severus found more joy in watching Potter try to start off whatever antidote he'd prepared (which was likely completely wrong, unless he had gotten Granger to do it for him), and even in noticing the boy glare at him for much of the time.

Meanwhile, he made several glances toward Vesperra, who was quickly getting to work and focusing too much on it to notice him—except for once, when she appeared to be glancing up simply for a quick look at him, she looked him directly in the eye and smirked before returning her attention to her antidote. It was the sort of smirk that he might not have liked to see on her in any other situation. Normally, he didn't like to see her at her worst (when she was rather vindictive), but he was feeling the same way, and so he risked a smirk back at her even after she wasn't looking anymore. He was glad to know his friend approved of his horribly cruel methods of revenge. Not that he necessarily needed her approval.

And then, he took a short break from hating Potter to wondering, once again, about the badges that the Slytherins were wearing. Every minute or so, when they thought he wasn't looking, one of them would turn to Potter and press their badge, flashing the message _**POTTER STINKS**_ at him across the room. It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out how the idea of the badges had come about in the first place, nor to realize who must have made them—the most perplexing thing was why Vesperra was wearing one as well. That fact in itself made him doubt everything else, because participating in something like that, even if it was against Potter, just seemed like a very _un_-Vesperra-ish thing to do.

At her seat in the front of the dungeon classroom, Vesperra was vaguely aware of Severus's eyes on her in scattered moments, and she was also pretty sure he was wondering why the hell she was wearing a badge. She expected questions later, and, in order to make sure they weren't terribly awkward when he got to them, she thought up the answers while measuring out and preparing ingredients for her antidote.

Preparing her recipe had been quite easy for her, as her memory had a knack for retaining the properties of different plants and parts of creatures, and so it had only taken some quick referencing in books to confirm that she was right about them. Really not so much research. And as always, there was the book of poisons and antidotes that she'd had, which had provided several major antidote recipes, some of which were just general cures. In any way you could have looked at it, she was absolutely set. Not to mention that she had _experience_ brewing a very complicated poison and antidote (which must have been perfect, since they'd worked).

Vesperra didn't notice much of what else was going on in the class, as this was one of the times when she was much too immersed in her potion-making that she didn't _want_ to pay attention to anything else. And when she didn't want to hear or see something, her brain completely blocked it out. That was one of the perks of having a mind like hers, as bad or awkward of a situation that could occasionally make.

Right now, her table and cauldron were all that was in her world, and that made it far easier to think. Her mind could process things even more easily that usual when it was clear of distractions from the outside world; there was nothing blocking her train of thought and not even anything for it to hit and run over, leaving a mess on the tracks. Very occasionally, though, there was a bridge to Severus that appeared and stayed up for a second or so.

Hardly ten minutes into the lesson, there was a loud knocking at the dungeon door that existed temporarily in Vesperra's world as a distant thunderclap, forcing her to, rather disgruntled, open up the gates (though the distraction hadn't registered at first). It roused Severus's attention at once, pulling him from his thick pool of thoughts of Potter (both senior and junior) that he hadn't been able to get out of. Part of him hadn't wanted to, so only part of him was grateful for the noise.

But half a second later, it registered to him that it was very uncommon for his lessons to be disrupted, and everyone on the list of possible people that had immediately gone through his mind he really didn't want to see right now.

"Enter," said Severus in his usual commanding voice, but with a hint of a questioning tone to it, because he was a bit confused and wary.

For a second nothing happened, but then the door creaked loudly, opening slowly, as though the person behind it was having trouble opening it. Then a small, mousy-haired boy edged into the room just when the door was open enough. It was Colin Creevey, a third-year Gryffindor who was surprisingly decent at Potions but still often on the receiving end of a decent amount of his snide comments during lessons.

When Vesperra looked up from her cauldron for a moment to see who it was, she recognized him as one of the Muggleborns who had been Petrified in her second year, but she couldn't put a name to the face, as she had only just reentered the real world—and that wasn't long enough for her to remember much that didn't have to do with potions. In spite of herself, she continued watching the boy walk up to Severus's desk, curious as to what he wanted. It annoyed her that she was letting herself be distracted by anything (damn, she was starting to annoy herself just as must as other people did these days), but she supposed that, because it had to do with Severus, she would naturally be interested.

"Yes?" said Severus curtly, having been eyeing Creevey suspiciously as he had walked up to him. It wasn't that he had any idea what the boy might have wanted, or was particularly annoyed at being disrupted while doing nothing; it was simply a habit to be rude to nearly everybody.

Suddenly seeming a little intimidated and nervous (but still smiling), the Creevey boy said, "Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

The moment the words _Harry Potter_ had been uttered, Severus's lip curled and fire flashed behind his eyes. A number of curse words exploded in his mind, and several of his normally involuntary bodily functions like breathing and blinking were overwhelmed by a surge of incredulous frustration. He was so frustrated that it didn't even cross his mind to wonder why Potter needed to go upstairs. _Of course, of-_bloody_-course this would happen. _But he wasn't going to let it.

All of this happened well inside the confines of Severus's mind, and so his face remained void of eye-twitching or teeth-baring or anything else he'd have liked to have done. Vesperra could still tell just how horribly frustrated he must have been, though, and she was staring at the mousy-haired boy with a slowly deepening frown, sure that she felt the same.

As Severus stared down his hooked nose at Creevey, the boy's eager smile rapidly faded, as did his apparent confidence. It was a slight comfort to know that they had only sent _this_ pathetic runt of a kid down to get Potter, and so whoever it was couldn't be too determined to get him. For one wild moment, he thought that perhaps Granger had arranged something to get her friend out of class so he didn't get poisoned.

"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," Severus said coldly, finding it almost painful to keep his voice even and his eyes from narrowing too far. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."

The mere second of hesitation in which Creevey didn't nod or show any visible sign that he was going to obey was already enough for Severus to know that his efforts against the cruel tides of fate (which were clearly out to ruin his life) were futile, and his brow knitted more tightly than before. But while he almost knew this for sure, he was still going to fight against it as much as he could and not let the hopeless frustration sink in until it was too late—so late that it would hurt worse than if he let it do so before.

"Sir—sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," Creevey said nervously, his face having gone pink, and causing Severus's eye to twitch very slightly against his control. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs…."

Well, that must have been a Hogwarts record. A near best-case scenario had turned into a worst-case one in a matter of a minute or so. The Universe really _did_ hate him; it must have. And the injustice of it (however twisted his perspective of that might have seemed to others) made him want to scream, but he held it in.

Silence had fallen over most of the class, as a lot of them were watching the scene at the front of the classroom. But, without any change in the lack of volume, it suddenly turned into a deadly one. Those last few words had been all it took to make several Slytherins glare at Potter and their envy (or just plain anger) radiate into the air around them. All the Gryffindors were looking at him as well, and he seemed to have gone a bit red.

Something happened in Severus's head just then, but he wasn't sure what. There might have been too much pressure, or something might have broken, or a spring might have come loose—but whatever it was, he thought that he might have lost a small part of his sanity and would never get it back. _Add that to the pile of all the rest of my mind that I don't have anymore._

Taking a deep breath to get the oxygen flowing to his brain (and possibly keep him from blowing up), he looked over at Potter for only a moment and then snapped, "Very well, very well. Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

Another second of hesitation—but Severus had been so sure that it would happen that his expression didn't change when he noticed it. It did, however, add another brick in building up his painful, furious frustration, and Creevey appeared to notice this.

"Please, sir—" he squeaked, now making himself smaller in obvious fear, "—he's got to take his things with him. All the champions—"

"Very _well_!" said Severus. It had gotten to the point where he couldn't help blowing up, but at least he had been able to control it so that it was a very small explosion. If he wasn't preoccupied with all the damn feelings half-trapped inside him, he might have been able to spare thought to imagine that if Vesperra had been in his place, she might have unintentionally made glass jars and whatnot fly at Creevey. And possibly other people, too. "Potter—take your bag and get out of my sight!"

At once, Potter practically leapt from his stool and swung his bag over his shoulder, walking rather quickly down the middle of the classroom. The Slytherins he passed by all turned toward him, flashing their badges, some of them glaring, and a couple of them smirking for some twisted reason. Underneath the hatred for him and all the undeserved attention he got, they must have been glad for Professor Snape being so angry at him.

But Severus didn't have the mental strength to look at the boy as he walked out (probably very gratefully), and instead he stood up from his desk chair and stared straight ahead, his eyes empty, for a few seconds. He gripped the edge of his desk so hard that if he had done so any harder, his fingers would have been at a risk of breaking—all the while trying to even his breathing and to accomplish it in only those few seconds.

Forgetting about her antidote for the moment, Vesperra watched him while most of the other students turned back to their potions or their friends. Her own anger and frustration towards the entire situation was pretty strong—strong enough to have her flexing her finding and grinding her teeth, but she felt immensely sorry for Severus. She knew that what she felt couldn't compare to the storm of fury raging on, alone, inside _him_ right now. She knew that he must have wanted so badly to pick up a jar and throw it at the door, to curse something, to punch the wall—anything… but he couldn't, and she was sure it was taking a lot of his strength not to do that. Using that kind of strength must have been painful—and it was just as painful to see her friend's mask yet still know the torrent going on behind it.

With a massive amount of effort, Severus managed to push back all the frustration to the core of him, where it couldn't affect him physically, but was still painful. He blinked away the almost glossy look his eyes had taken on and, immediately after, glanced at Vesperra, whose eyes conveyed enough sympathy to give him an actual incentive to stay sane throughout the rest of the lesson.

The very next thing he glanced at was Potter's empty seat, where his unfinished potion was still simmering. After what had just happened, he was almost glad to have that kid gone, as he didn't think he could bear seeing him anymore today, but he still felt extremely cheated out of something he deserved—out of something that Potter deserved, too.

That left him with two things to do, one of which was to decide whose antidote to test instead—a spectacularly easy choice_. Longbottom._ He was the other half of Severus's loathing, and as the other person whose existence was more proof that Lily Evans was dead, he was the next best thing. Besides, he was more likely to be reduced to a shaking, crying heap than Potter was. And as Severus looked toward him, the round-faced boy seemed to be aware of the position he was now in.

The other thing was to decide Potter and Weasley's detention, which took a total of two minutes to think up. For those two minutes, Severus had been pacing through the aisles and giving snide remarks (though he hadn't gotten very far), and he kept it in the back of his mind as he continued through the rows of cauldrons, each time snapping something like, "Hm. You may want to rethink any plans you have for tonight or this weekend," or "I hope you don't have a weak stomach." As each of the students had a different recipe they were going by, he couldn't say anything about the ingredients they were using, but that didn't stop him from being as cruel as possible. If nothing else, that was what he was doing to vent all of his built-up anger. Severus was doing them a favor, really; he was making sure that he didn't blow up on them altogether. That would have been worse than isolated insults and remarks.

After having made his way through the side of the dungeon classroom made mostly up of Slytherins, he stopped at Thomas, Finnigan, and Weasley's table. The three of them had been talking until he arrived, and were now careful not to do anything that might have upset Severus worse. _At least this means they're not entirely stupid,_ he thought.

"Well, Weasley," he said icily and not as quietly as he could have, peering down over his nose into their cauldrons, "since Potter has left, you can tell him later that the two of you will be pickling rats' brains in this classroom tomorrow evening, starting at eight. And—before I leave—is there anything else you would like to call me? Ah, no, of course not—" he said without giving Weasley a chance to respond at all, "—I wouldn't expect you to have a large enough vocabulary to think up anything else."

He remained standing where he was just long enough to see Weasley look up and glare at him, and to enjoy seeing the ginger's ears go red. At that, he gave him an unpleasant smirk and stalked away.

Things were the same until Severus made it at last to Vesperra's desk, at which much of the anger he hadn't yet let off returned to the surface—but in the form of a rather heavy sadness, and the pain of not being able to talk to her. His urge to just hug her tightly from the side and bury his face in her neck was so great that he almost forgot to observe her antidote so far; and when he remembered, he wasn't disappointed.

Yet again, he was wholly impressed not only with Vesperra's skill in potion-making, but also her genius in general. It would have taken several different areas of knowledge and intelligence (because those were two vastly different things) for a fourth year to compile a recipe by herself for an antidote that was able to counteract most poisons. Simple it might have been to him, but he honestly hadn't expected even half of his fourth years to produce something decent—not that he hadn't expected as much from Vesperra. Still, it so far seemed that her antidote would meet every single one of the aforementioned requirements.

"I can't wait to see it finished," muttered Severus as low as he possibly could without just mouthing it. He was leaning over her table from her right, looking into her cauldron and taking care not to get in the way of her work. Her antidote was a mild shade of pink at the moment, and a short inhale was all he needed to tell him that the scent was spot-on—a skilled potioneer could always tell whether a potion will work properly or not by the smell, and most antidotes had something to their scent that, if it was missing, you would know that it wasn't going to work. By sweeping his eyes over the ingredients on her table, he could also tell the sort of approach she was taking.

On Vesperra's side of things, she didn't even notice that Severus was there at first. She had been wrapped up quite tightly in crushing Anglerfish bones, and it was a few seconds before it registered to her that there was something about six feet tall, dressed in all black, and rather attractive standing next to her. And one extra for her to realize that he'd said something to her. Had anyone else tried to talk to her, it likely wouldn't have made it past the walls of her mind at all, but Severus's voice was piercing—and it always had free admission, so she didn't even have to let it in.

Careful not to be obvious about it, Vesperra looked at him and offered him a smile that didn't quite reach her lips, but was easily spotted in her eyes. By him, at least. Because she knew how angry he still must have been, she wanted to turn around completely and hug him and kiss him on the cheek and try to calm him down just as much as he wanted her to do so. But, since they were in the middle of a lesson, she settled for a very brief and seemingly unintentional touch of her hand over his, which he was using to support himself as he leaned over the table.

"I can't wait to see Longbottom be poisoned," she replied in just as low of a voice before dumping the white powder of crushed Anglerfish bones into her cauldron. Of course, she couldn't have known for sure that that's what he was planning to do, but the momentary glint in his eyes told her that she was right in guessing that.

And sure enough, about forty minutes or so after Severus left Vesperra's table, the entire class was grouped around Longbottom's table, watching him and Severus.

"Let's see then, Longbottom, which one…?" Severus was carefully picking through a small box of assorted vials he had set down on the table in front of him, being deliberately slow in order to stimulate the most fear in the pudgy boy who was his current victim. The tinkle of glass against glass should have been enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and the waiting for Severus to actually extract one from the box must have been killing him.

"Ah, yes," he finally said, pulling out a vial of clear liquid (which most of them were), on which was a label in a shorthand that only Severus could read. "This is a relatively common one, and if you've brewed your antidote correctly, it should work easily." He wasn't even lying, but his silky tone probably made it seem like he was, both to Longbottom and to everyone else that was watching in either hopeful anticipation or fear. Even Vesperra didn't know for sure whether her friend was going to let him die.

Severus took a ladle and poured some of the dark green antidote into a glass, and then held out a long-fingered hand, in which he held the vial of poison. Longbottom, however, recoiled and shook his head, refusing to take it.

"You will drink this, Longbottom," he snapped coldly, "whether it is voluntary or if I have to force it down your throat myself."

In the small crowd of students milling around the area, Vesperra gave an involuntary twitch, for she suddenly remembered Severus saying something similar to her in her second year, and the thoughts that had accompanied that compared with what was happening now did not create a pretty sight. She hoped to forget it soon—and her wish would likely be granted, as she was about to witness something tremendously funny that would probably stick in her mind for a long time.

His round face suddenly twice as frightened as before, Longbottom reached out a pudgy, shaking hand. When he grabbed the vial, he didn't move for several seconds, but then gulped in resignation and downed it. Nothing happened at first; the room was silent as Longbottom stared down at the table, waiting—but then he coughed, and that almost instantly turned to a violent hacking. He quickly grabbed the glass of his antidote, almost spilling it, and, looking as though he was sure it wasn't going to work, managed to gulp some down in between coughs.

The hacking cough didn't stop, but instead became worse, and now purple blotches were starting to appear all over his face. In a minute or so, Vesperra was sure (because she was actually familiar with this exact poison, having read about it), Longbottom wouldn't be unable to breathe at all and would die of asphyxiation. She briefly half-seriously considered asking Severus to give her a vial of that in case she wanted to use it on Malfoy. But she really didn't need to, because she already had at least four flasks worth of a different poison in her school trunk.

Most of the Slytherins were nearly falling over as they leaned over excitedly in an attempt to see him better (Vesperra was simply smirking), and the Gryffindors were all on edge, extremely worried for their friend and surely hating Severus with a passion. Vesperra considered it ironic that she was feeling a great deal of attraction to him right now.

Meanwhile, Severus lazily watched Longbottom choke, rather enjoying himself. He only let it go on for another couple seconds (after which it wouldn't be long before it was too late) before unstoppering the (correct) antidote he had had ready and handing it over. He was afraid, for a moment, that he might have to squeeze the boy's chubby face and pour it down his throat for him, but then Longbottom, in a state of absolute panic, grabbed it and swallowed it.

Just as the contents of the vial disappeared down his throat, the boy stopped hacking and his chest stopped convulsing. He was panting and very red in the face, but otherwise okay.

"Well, I'd say it's no surprise that you haven't come very far in your knowledge of potion-making, Longbottom," sneered Severus, to sniggers from the Slytherins and glares from the Gryffindors. "I suggest you work on that, unless you want to find yourself poisoned in an entirely different situation someday."

And with that, he closed the box of poisons, Vanished the remains of Longbottom's failure (he really couldn't refer to it as anything but that) and the cup, and then turned and walked away, his robes billowing dramatically as he did. He could easily feel the twenty eyes on his back, but he was too satisfied with himself to care. Besides, he knew that the one person in that room he actually cared about would have something good to say, and not _just_ a congratulations for humiliating Longbottom like that.

Then, as he put away the poisons and without looking at anyone, he said loudly, "Everyone else, label your antidote and put it on my desk, and every single desk better be clean before you leave. Otherwise I can test someone else's antidote as well."

At those words, there was immediate shuffling around the room to get everything cleaned up and proper. Although, with all the slime and congealed mess the ingredients had made, it still took until the bell rang to get rid of all mess and get the potions on Severus's desk. As everyone else left, Vesperra took her time putting away the ingredients that had come from her personal potions kit. The click of the door finally shutting was her cue.

"You okay, Severus?" was the first thing she said, before she had even fully zipped her schoolbag closed and slid off her stool to approach his desk.

Instead of answering at once, he let out a deep sigh, which was punctuated with several groans. He held his head in one hand for a second, and then rubbed the side of it, suddenly looking extremely tired. That was actually the effect of him keeping his frustration in for so long, and now having a completely different reason to keep it in than he had before. Looking through somewhat misted eyes at Vesperra, who was staring at him very worriedly, he calmed down a considerable amount.

"Better than I was at the beginning of the lesson, or when Potter left," he told her in a bit of a breathy voice. "Funny, isn't it, how the one day I actually _want_ Potter to be here, someone else decides that he has to leave?"

Vesperra let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Hilarious. Or at least, I would find it so if I wasn't me."

Severus's lip twitched in the slightest of smirks, and, without warning, Vesperra took a single stride closer to him and leaned forward to hug him around his neck. From where she was standing, it felt a little awkward (physically), as she had to lean over sideways, but she could hardly care about her own discomfort right now.

Without asking any questions (or even having any cross his mind just yet, he threw his arms around her and hugged her back, holding her tightly to him—and at the same time pushing his chair a ways from his desk with his foot so that it wouldn't feel uncomfortable for Vesperra. Closing his eyes, he pressed the crook of his nose into her neck and inhaled deeply.

"Thank you," he whispered, feeling his headache recede with the comfort of his friend's hug.

First squeezing him a bit tighter for a couple seconds, Vesperra loosened her hold on him and drew back until she was just holding onto his shoulders, and then shifted so that she was sitting on the arm of his chair instead of just leaning over it. "You're welcome," she sighed, giving him a sort of sad look, as she hated to see all the creases in his face from stress and frustration. "I suppose I ought to thank you too, for giving me quite a bit of entertainment at the beginning and end of class." At the thought of it, she smiled suddenly and involuntarily, letting out a muffled snort of laughter, and then let herself fall forward to rest her forehead on Severus's shoulder while her stomach convulsed with the peals of laughter she was holding back.

"Tha—that was hilarious," said Vesperra, giggling slightly. "You emotionally destroyed both Granger and Longbottom in one day—too bad we didn't get a picture."

Thinking back on it, and also merely from seeing how much his friend appreciated it, Severus smirked, and his chest convulsed with a few silent laughs. "It's not as though either of us will forget it, though. And you know I wouldn't have been that cruel unless I was in a horrible mood."

"Yes, well, either way, you have your reasons. And while I normally like seeing you cruel… I don't think it's worth you being so angry." Vesperra moved her head up to look at him again, cocked her head, and frowned slightly. Slowly, she stroked her knuckles lightly over the thin lines under his eyes and around his nose. "I hate it just as much as you do that you didn't manage to punish Potter properly, you know. I should be saying that I expected the increase in publicity all along, but I really can't believe it. I don't want to believe it. Why don't we just pull a Caesar—conspire with Weasley, and get him to stab Potter? It'll be easier."

In spite of the joke being against Potter's life, Severus exhaled sharply in a short laugh. "You really think Weasley's fit to rule Hogwarts?"

The edge of Vesperra's lips twitched, nearly becoming a smirk for a split second. "Not what I meant. But either way, we probably shouldn't worry about it for now, or else we'll drive ourselves insane." Pausing for breath, she felt an impulse—granted, a rather rational one—tug at her, and she grabbed both sides of Severus's face so that she could lean upward and kiss his forehead, an inch from his right temple.

"You should take a Calming Draught," she advised as she let go of his face.

For a second or two, he was silent and just looked at her, grateful for the simple fact that she had stayed behind to talk to him.

"I know. I will," he assured her. "And you—well, both of us—ought to get to dinner. But before you do, I want to ask you: _Why_ are you wearing that badge?"

Severus pointed to the red, glowing message of _**Support CEDRIC DIGGORY—The REAL Hogwarts Champion!**_ on her chest, frowning curiously. He had forgotten about it since now, and it was something he needed to know.

"I, well—" Looking down at the badge, Vesperra felt awkward, despite the answers she had planned in her head. She supposed nothing could have helped the awkwardness. "It's _Potter_, you know? Malfoy offered me one and I took it—I figured I might as well, if only to aggravate Potter more."  
"Well, _that_ I understand, but it's hard to grasp the concept of you taking anything from Malfoy, no matter what it was. You hate him more than anything—no, you _loathe_ him…."

She had been expecting that. "Yes, well, it's confusing," she tried to explain. "But I _can_ hold a civil conversation with Malfoy, and being his enemy doesn't mean we disagree on everything. Everyone's got to respect their enemies, right? I mean, because you can't help but be impressed, however much you hate it…. If you want me to take it off, I will." Vesperra had broken off because it was getting difficult to explain it to Severus, and also because she really didn't want to bother explaining it to him. Her relationship with Malfoy and her ongoing battle to one day destroy him, by her means and her means only, were for her to do and worry about _alone_.

However, Severus did understand some of it. He understood the traits of that sort of relationship, even though he wasn't sure he had ever quite experienced it. James Potter hadn't been a power evenly matched for him, and they had never once had a civil conversation (or at least not one that stayed civil the whole time). They had been enemies, but not exactly the sort of enemies that Vesperra and Malfoy were. Similar, but not exact.

Then again, this entire speculation was over a _badge_. Perhaps he was overthinking it—and even if he wasn't, it was still the sort of thing he shouldn't waste his time dwelling on. So he let it go.

"I don't care whether or not you wear it," he told her. "It's not like I have any authority to do so anyway—I'm just your friend."

"Well, to be honest, it's getting sort of heavy on my robes and I'm probably not going to wear it all after today," Vesperra admitted, starting to slide off of the arm of his chair. "And—_wait_, there was something I wanted to give you—" Her eyes widened very briefly as she remembered, and she immediately bent down to open her bag, pulling out a thin vial seconds later. She took a moment to look at it and confirm it was exactly what she had been looking for, then smirked and turned to face Severus again.

"Here," she said casually (though with a hint of eagerness), handing him the vial. He took it immediately, frowning slightly.

"That's…" He let himself trail off. Being a skilled potioneer, Severus didn't have to think hard at all to realize what the long, pale gold strand was inside of the glass vial, but he couldn't help but be a bit skeptical.

"A hair from the tail of an Abraxan," said Vesperra somewhat proudly, confirming his thoughts. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to look up at her and say something. And when he did, a few seconds later—

"Alright, how _this _time? Did Damien help again?" he said, a little incredulous—so much, in fact, that he momentarily forgot that he probably should have thanked her. When he remembered, though, it didn't matter, because Vesperra didn't seem to care and was only smirking more at him.

"There's a dozen Abraxans right outside the _school_, Severus," she explained as though it were obvious (but not in a condescending way, like she would have done with anyone else). "They're not too far from Hagrid's hut most of the time—so it wasn't exactly hard to summon a couple tail hairs…. I learned the Summoning Charm last week and thought this was the perfect chance. I thought you'd find it useful."

"So you stole them," said Severus, despite the fact that he was impressed.

"What's Madame Maxime going to notice a couple of _hairs_, Severus? Well—I think the Abraxan noticed, because I heard a whinny when I summoned them… but other than that, there's no harm done."

"Hm. But—you said two. Where's the other one?"

"I used it. In the antidote I made just now." Vesperra's eyes quickly sought out the flask on Severus's desk containing her potion, just for a second. "I didn't plan to use it all along, but once I got a hold of the Abraxan hairs on Monday, I altered the recipe I had so it would work."

At that, Severus let out a small noise of somewhat pleasant disbelief and gave her a half-smile of the same manner. "That's cheating," he teased. "Abraxan tail hairs always make for more powerful antidotes, and no one else had access to any."

"You mean no one else had the _idea_ to do something like I did," she corrected him, sounding a bit more smug than usual.

But that was okay, Severus thought, because someone as clever as her deserved to be smug every once in a while.

* * *

"So, are Sundays going to become our regular thing?"

"Do you want them to?"

As they often would have been doing on a Saturday, Vesperra and Severus were sitting side-by-side on the short couch in his office, simply enjoying the morning and each other's company. Upon her arrival, Severus had asked her if she wanted any coffee (only jokingly, of course, as he knew she hated coffee) and then made her some tea when she had raised an eyebrow. It felt a little odd, as the both of them would normally be doing entirely different things at this time: Severus would have been grading papers and Vesperra would have either been reading or doing any homework that she hadn't managed to finish during the week.

But they had done those things yesterday, since Severus had already scheduled Potter and Weasley's detention for the evening before (which he had done so as to not raise suspicion and make anyone think he had plans for Saturday night). He had decided that it would be more convenient to just do all his grading and anything else teacher-related on Saturday, so Vesperra wouldn't have to leave before Potter and Weasley showed up.

Speaking of, the detention had done a rather good toll on Severus's mood. He had enjoyed watching the two boys cringe as they did disgusting work, and no longer even being able to look at each other for support or to confirm their mutual hatred for their teacher ("abuser" as some might have called it). Oh, Potter did attempt to look at his friend (whether they were still friends or not), but Weasley hadn't looked back. That was almost more satisfying than having them pickle rats' brains.

And right now, he was taking a sip of his coffee (just a bit of milk, no sugar) and looking at his friend sitting to the left of him over the rim of his mug. Normally, he'd have been drinking tea, but he had stayed up late the night before while grading and filing and needed something more effective in keeping him awake (and he didn't want to take a potion—too much of those, and he might have gotten addicted).

"I don't really care, but it seems we're spending more and more Sundays in your office," said Vesperra, sipping her tea in an unintentional imitation of him.

"You know those are coincidences…. I prefer Saturdays, anyway—we can both stay in here late, knowing that there won't be any classes the next day."

"So do I," she agreed.

That Sunday progressed like any normal Saturday would, with them taking the necessary meal breaks when the rest of the castle was eating—and also the necessary precautions so as to not appear suspicious to anyone who was smart and devious enough to want to discover the fact that a teacher and student were friends.

After lunch, when Severus was likely being held up in the staffroom (he had altered the wards on his door so that she could now get into his office without him having to open it), Vesperra found herself getting a little bored while sitting on his couch and let her mind wander. She would have been content with just sitting there and leaning against him, breathing and listening to silence, but he unfortunately _wasn't_ sitting next to her at the moment, nor would he be for possibly another ten minutes. Probably more.

A thought soon struck her, and she took it at once in preference to merely going over theories about the Goblet of Fire in her head. Almost without her conscious knowledge of it, she had her wand out and was summoning things from all around Severus's office—just small things, as she didn't want to break anything. It had been rather easy for her to learn it in Flitwick's class a week before, since she had already tried it once or twice before that. All it needed, really, was focus, which she was practically _made_ of.

Without her even realizing it, about twelve minutes had passed; and soon after they did, the door opened, allowing Severus to walk in. He was slightly confused to see the small pile of crumpled up balls of parchment, quills, and random other objects where he normally sat—but upon seeing Vesperra point her wand at his bedroom door and hearing her say, "_Accio socks,_" he knew immediately what she was doing. And he found it quite amusing.

"I'm sorry I had to be gone so long that it's reduced you to _this_," said Severus as he closed the door behind him and a pair of his socks flew out under the slot between his bedroom door and the floor, past him, and into Vesperra's hand. He couldn't help but smirk at the odd sight.

She had only vaguely realized that he had come in when she had cast that last Summoning Charm, but she wasn't embarrassed. They had been friends long enough that socks weren't exactly too personal—even though she'd never really had a look at his before.

"Damn…," she said quietly to herself after silently acknowledging he was back, holding out one of his black socks at its full length. "I can't believe I've never realized this before, but your feet are bloody _huge_, Severus. I mean, I should have guessed because of your height, but your socks make it seem like you shouldn't even be human."

Both of them stifled short laughs; and while Vesperra was smirking, Severus's was more of a mock-grimace. He quickly finished putting the Imperturbable Charm on the door before speaking, though.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not, but thanks anyway. And is that why you're summoning things, then?" he said half-jokingly, leaning a bit over the side of the couch with one hand on it for support. "As an excuse to go through my things?"

Vesperra gave him a look that clearly said, _"Oh, shut up,"_ and then looked back to the sock. "I'm doing it for practice, actually…. Huh, I wouldn't have thought you wore socks that went to mid-calf. Or have they just stretched?"

Not giving her the chance to even let her smirk at him, he started walking toward his desk and huffed, "If you want to know more about me, you don't have to psychoanalyze my socks." But Vesperra knew him well enough that she didn't have to worry for one second that he might have been seriously annoyed with her. "And you don't need to practice; you're already perfect at it."

"Well, extra practice can never hurt, can it?" she said, rolling her wand carelessly in between her fingers and watching Severus set down a folder of papers on his desk, which he must have picked up in the staffroom. "Besides, I was bored. Consider yourself lucky I didn't start firing curses at the wall…." And then, as a thought struck her, she shifted her hold on her wand and pointed it at him: "_Accio Severus._"

"Doesn't work on people," said Severus, amused, as he walked back to the couch without the aid of a spell.

"Well, that's useless," Vesperra mock-huffed, letting her wand hand fall to her lap. She watched as Severus pulled out his own wand and silently cleared away his space on the couch, making all the stuff fly back to their proper places, before he sat down. "Hey…," she started to say curiously, twisting a bit to look at his face without straining her neck, "when do students normally learn nonverbal spells?"

"Generally during their sixth year. Why? Do you want to learn how to do it?" He wasn't surprised, since Vesperra was almost always trying (whether purposely or unconsciously) to be on top of everything. And especially since she could hardly come across anything and not want to learn it. In fact, he was actually surprised that she had waited so long to ask.

"Yes, I—well, I've seen you do it about a thousand times, starting from the day I first spent a night in your office and just about every day I've spent in your office from then, including now. So I thought it would be pretty useful to know how to do it."

"That, and the fact that it's just one more thing you can do that no one else can," said Severus, smirking knowingly at her.

"I don't do things just to be better than other people," she huffed, though she knew he wasn't serious. Honestly, though, she wouldn't have felt offended even if he had been serious. "But I'm guessing that's a _yes_ on teaching me? Even though I never specifically asked that question."

Severus smiled inwardly, and the expression made it to his eyes. "There's not much I can tell you that you wouldn't be able to figure out on your own," he told her. "It's not really much more than _thinking_ the spell rather than saying it and focusing a lot more than you normally would. But then again, you already focus hard enough on most of the spells you cast that they end up being more than powerful enough after a couple tries, so it won't be an _extreme_ challenge for you—if that's what you were hoping for."

"Huh," said Vesperra, examining her wand for no reason in particular, holding it from end to tip in between both hands and twisting it. "Too bad. It's been a while since I've had a _really_ good challenge."

* * *

The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions and spirits—well, not so much the emotions for Vesperra, but she was sure the rest of the castle was going through them.

It actually started on Sunday morning, the morning after an article about the Triwizard Tournament appeared in the _Daily Prophet_—well, not so much an article about the tournament as it was about Potter. The title was indefinitely misinformative, as it implied that the other champions would actually be mentioned more than once, and _before_ the long, cramped sentence at the end.

Vesperra had originally found out when part of the _Prophet_, which had been crumpled into a large ball, hit her squarely in the face during breakfast (Crabbe's doing, for Malfoy wouldn't have done something so childish and likely didn't have a very good arm) and promptly fell into her oatmeal. The first thing she did was mentally smack herself for being too deep in her mind cave to notice it coming at her, and the second was quickly jerk her head around in the direction it had been thrown from, scowling.

"Go on, read it, Grease-perra!" said Malfoy, sniggering along with most of the other Slytherins. "You'll enjoy it, I promise. And you can keep it when you're done, even, because Crabbe's gone and nearly ruined it." His voice dropped with that last bit, and he had turned to Crabbe as he'd said it, clearly annoyed.

Not sure what this was about, Vesperra had been rather suspicious and hesitant to read it, even more so after glaring around at all her sniggering Housemates. At last, looking down at the balled up newspaper that was getting soggy in her oatmeal, she exhaled as an annoyed sigh as though to say "_Fine,_" and picked it up, still wary all the while.

After uncrumpling it and letting some of the oatmeal drip off and back into the bowl, her eyebrows raised upon seeing the large picture of Potter on the front. She began reading immediately, not minding the sogginess of part of the paper. And as she did, she had a gradually increasing confusion as to _what_ to feel or think: In the article, there were several columns of quotes from Potter that were highly incriminating to him (and apparently recorded in an interview by Rita Skeeter, a name Vesperra vaguely recognized), but it was also completely feeding his ego. Most of the things, though, made it seem like Potter hadn't said them at all, since even he wasn't stupid enough to say that sort of thing to a reporter. All the other Slytherins seemed to realize this as well, but they didn't care as long as they had another excuse to taunt him. Neither did Vesperra.

Once she finished reading all of it (continued on pages two, six, and seven, which had been included in the crumpled ball that Crabbe had thrown at her), Vesperra expressionlessly crumpled it back up, not caring about her hands getting a bit sticky from the leftover oatmeal, and threw it back at Malfoy. It was a low enough throw that none of the teachers should have seen it over the heads of the taller students, and also quite straight, considering the fact that Vesperra hadn't taken much time to aim before throwing it.

As he must have been expecting it (otherwise, he would have been so stupid that Vesperra would have been ashamed to have him as her arch-enemy), Malfoy immediately threw his hands in front of his face, but he just barely managed to catch it and prevent it from hitting his nose. Not like it would have done any damage.

"Nice try," he drawled, handing the slightly sticky newspaper ball to Goyle without even looking at him. "Well, what did you think of it?"

He and the other Slytherins all appeared strangely eager to hear her answer; Vesperra's natural paranoia then kicked in and she started wondering what it was that they really wanted, and if this was all part of some plan of theirs or just a way of messing with her. What was she supposed to say? Would saying one thing and not another get her insulted and hexed more than usual for the rest of the week?

"I think it's a load of dragon dung," she ended up saying a second later, "and I can tell from '_Harry Potter, not only a boy very desirable to the teenage witches of Hogwarts, but also the top of his class_' that this Skeeter woman is in it all for the publicity and attention and drama, and she's gotten exactly what she wanted, hasn't she? Although, I shouldn't be surprised that you lot are susceptible to that sort of thing, because it's only stuff that'll make it easier to make Potter's time hell _before_ he actually dies."

Secretly, though, as she slowly began to retreat into her mind cave in an effort to avoid looking at any of their reactions to that, she did find all the obvious misquotes hilarious, as well as the prospect of what was going to happen to Potter. Vesperra also couldn't help but look forward to all the gossip and drama that would take place, since, as annoying as it was, it would keep the attention on Potter and not on her. Besides, it wasn't as if she had to be a part of it at all. She could easily just walk on by and occasionally watch a bit of the entertainment. Truth be told, she was almost actually _liking_ this year, if only for that reason.

And, as a reflex, she immediately wondered what Severus would think of it.

Because her mind was on the same thing that everyone else's was, it was impossible for her to be completely cut off from their conversation (well, she was never _completely _separated from anything, just mostly detached). So she heard bits and pieces of what they were saying, sometimes slipping out of outward attention and only hearing her own thoughts, the rest of them being like an irritating buzz in the background.

Among that section of the Slytherin table were, as usual, the boys from Durmstrang, and Vesperra heard some of what they were saying to each other as well (or at least when they were speaking in English rather than Russian or some other language). Instead of finding the whole thing amusing like the Slytherins did, they were extremely angry that the article had almost completely left out Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, which Vesperra would have expected from them. Especially Krum, as he actually _was_ one of the champions and had been in the room with Potter to get their picture taken for the Prophet; she doubted anyone but Potter had gotten interviewed, though. And she doubted that a loner like Krum would care very much about losing attention (if for no other reason than the fact that he already had enough of it)—no, it would all be about his school pride. During breakfast, he hardly spoke to anyone, but for the occasional short muttering to a friend of something Vesperra couldn't hear. But she didn't need to hear him speak to know that he was angry.

That's not _quite_ where the main hype of that week started, as the Slytherin table probably hadn't been the first one to get a hold of the _Daily Prophet_, but that's where Vesperra considered it to start. For her, the rest of the week was a bit harmful for her eardrums but only about as challenging on her tolerance as usual. Of course, there were definitely times when the other fourth years spent a chunk of their time coming up with insults and taunts that she had to keep a certain level of control during in order to ignore (that much would never change, she was sure), but it was just lessened for the time being. Sure that it would return to normal soon enough, though, Vesperra made sure not to get too used to it.

It couldn't have been later than Monday afternoon that every single person within Hogwarts knew about the article, and by then, several people had already gone up to Potter simply to quote the article to him and laugh, or had otherwise done it while passing him in the corridors. Vesperra never participated in any of it, for she wasn't exactly a social butterfly and she wasn't cruel enough to ridicule him to his face (just to silently encourage the taunting that other people did)—she just sometimes watched and smirked inwardly every time it happened around her.

The Slytherins, of course, were doing the worst of it—but, surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs didn't say anything at all. Well, Vesperra supposed it could have gone either way with them…. Cedric Diggory hadn't been mentioned _at all_ in the article, so naturally they were furious at Potter for taking up all the attention and once again robbing their House of their rare chance for glory, whether or not it was actually his fault and not the Skeeter woman's. Clearly, none of them wanted anything to do with Potter anymore, so they kept to glaring at him constantly. Sometimes it was in groups… and group walk-by glares were one of the worst things for your sanity if they happened about five times a day.

According to Severus, as he'd reminded her on Monday evening, Rita Skeeter was a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_ who was notorious for doing anything for a story and quite often lying in them. It made sense to hear that (and see it), for Skeeter had also been the woman to write the article about the riots at the Quidditch World Cup all that time ago. Even though she had never talked to her or spoken to her in her entire life, Vesperra already hated her.

In the midst of it all, there was the first task of the Triwizard Tournament coming up the following Tuesday, which only created even more tension, excitement, and mixed feelings in the castle. Combined with all the article hype, it was almost dangerous. It didn't matter who you were; _everyone_ was anxious for it. It was similar to the way the school would normally get about the first Quidditch game of the season, which incidentally would have been around the same time. None of the students knew what the task was going to be, though, so there was a level of suspense along with everything else—the hope (or fear, for the Gryffindors) of Potter dying, the immense hope of one's own school to win, and the simple excitement to even be witnessing this. Even Vesperra, who didn't dare or want to show it, was at least somewhat freaking out along with the rest of the school—just not on quite an intense level, and silently.

And somehow, during all of the insanity, Vesperra managed to take a lot of time for herself when she was finished with homework (or when she couldn't do it) to practice nonverbal spells. She had taken the small bit of advice that Severus had given her and started with the simpler spells—and so she decided on _Wingardium Leviosa_, one of the first things she'd learned. Instead of attempting to take notes during History of Magic (which, strangely, it was much harder for her to focus on than it was for her to completely encase herself inside her own mind sometimes), Vesperra had her wand out, surreptitiously swishing and flicking it at her quill. Professor Binns didn't seem to notice—or else he'd have said something, but she wasn't sure about anyone else. She didn't really care, though.

It was hardly ten minutes (how many tries were within those ten minutes, she wasn't sure) before her immense concentration allowed her to make her quill float into the air without having to say a thing. Vesperra didn't know whether she had expected as much or if she was surprised at how short of a time it had taken. Her efforts hadn't even been as strong as they could have been.

And so she released her concentration before the quill got too high, then tried it a couple more times, feeling oddly proud of herself if only for the fact that—Severus had been a little bit right, whether he had been serious or not—she could do something that she highly doubted any of the other fourth or even fifth years could do. It was a similar feeling that had come along with finally being able to cast a Patronus. Except a lot smaller, and not so much the relief.

While the rest of the school was taking part in the post-article ridicule of Potter and getting excited over the upcoming First Task, Vesperra's main focus was practicing nonverbal spells. Not only did it give her a stronger sense of security in knowing that she had another advantage (aside from knowing several extremely harmful curses) in any duels she might find herself in, but it also gave her something to do and think about until the First Task arrived. By the time Friday came, she had mastered quite a few spells nonverbally—both some simple ones and harmful ones.

Last (_and_ apparently least to a lot of people, in comparison to everything else), there was a Hogsmeade trip scheduled for that Saturday. It certainly wasn't as exciting as the tournament to most, but many students were glad to get out of the castle once before the First Task—especially the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons lot, who had never been to Hogsmeade before and were undoubtedly interested.

Vesperra, however, could never be quite as eager to spend a day in Hogsmeade, as it always meant leaving Severus alone in the castle and being out in the village where there was no real authority to keep Malfoy or someone else from attacking her. But this time, she simply couldn't help but thinking, several times that week: _Look's like our day has moved to Sunday. Again._

* * *

For late November, it luckily wasn't as cold as it could have been, but it was still rather chilly. By general consent, at least—Vesperra, having lived in a house without proper heating during the winter or proper air conditioning in the summer, was used to both extremes of weather. A low temperature couldn't really be distracting or otherwise affect her until her fingers and ears started going numb.

And it wasn't _that_ sort of day, anyway. As she ambled down the dirt path from the Hogwarts gates (void of dementors, which Vesperra supposed she'd never get over the relief from), there was only a light breeze against her face, as well as the occasional soggy, brown leaf. The grass on the Hogwarts lawns and around the wide path was damp from the last time it had rained, which had been a few days ago, but the path itself was mostly dry—just a bit muddy at the edges. This, Vesperra was glad for, as any large amounts of mud concentrated into one area would make for a good opportunity for Malfoy to get Crabbe or Goyle to either push her into it or make it splash all over the bottom half of her robes.

Around her, there seemed to be a greater variety of students going to Hogsmeade, for a good portion of them were students whom she had never seen on weekend Hogsmeade trips before, and there were also most of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students coming along. The excited chatter was easier to ignore now that Vesperra was older and had developed a skill for closing off her mind to the rest of the world (for the most part) when she wanted to think. There wasn't anything in particular that she wanted to think about at the moment, though; it had just become a habit for her to do that. In fact, she rather liked to sometimes pretend that the world was completely empty but for her.

"Got something on your mind, Grease-perra?"

But of course it wasn't.

Along with the sudden presence of that loathed, drawling voice, Vesperra felt something heavy come down on her upper back, pushing her forward and making her stumble. She only just managed to regain full awareness in time to save herself from tripping altogether and falling flat on her face. And then, in the next second, she vaguely remembered hearing "Hey, Grease-perra" at least twice, but ignoring it because her mind had recognized the voice as unwanted and shoved it out without her consciously deciding to do so.

Looking to her left and right, she saw that Malfoy and Goyle were on one side of her, and Crabbe on the other—_Nice tactics, he knows how to make sure I don't escape._ And if he wanted to, he could have made his cronies crush her from either side at any moment. So she already had her right hand ready to shoot to her left sleeve and pull her wand out as she glared into Malfoy's cold, grey eyes.

When she didn't say anything, he continued, almost acting like it was a normal conversion but for some small, yet obvious clues in his body language. "Thinking about how to spend your day with only a five-Knut budget? You know, I still don't see the point of going to Hogsmeade at all when you've got no one to go _with_. Unless, of course, Snape's waiting for you at the Three Broomsticks or something. But he's definitely not, so you might be better off just staying in your dorm or hanging outside in his office."

At that, Malfoy grinned, Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, and Vesperra narrowed her eyes, trying hard to keep her anger level at moderate and not to show any of the sudden fear she was feeling. Did he actually _know_ anything?—or was he just making things up that were only close to the truth by coincidence? If he did know something, then how? And would he have been more obvious about it if he knew?

"Getting out of the castle does serve its purposes, Malfoy…," she said evenly, but with an edge to her voice. "Believe it or not, I'm not some sort of creature who only thrives in the darkness, and I _do_ like fresh air once in a while—it helps me think, especially when I'm planning out your death. Either socially or literally, whichever you prefer."

Now they were both glaring at each other, with Malfoy more in front of her than to the side, walking half-backwards with her. Crabbe and Goyle just walked along, looking ready to do whatever, whenever their master told them. The immediate area (for at least a ten foot radius or so) was empty but for them, and there was still a ways to go until they reached Hogsmeade.

Having been sure that some sort of confrontation would happen between them (as one always did on Hogsmeade weekends), Vesperra was able to stay calmer than the times before. It would have been merely annoying if not for the sort of things that Malfoy said and the way he got under her skin just by being there.

"So you've got a list too, do you?" he said after a few seconds, his pale face having gone up a very slight shade in pink. "Maybe we can get together and compare them sometime."

"I'm more likely to punch you in the face right now," snarled Vesperra.

"You're not stupid enough to do that when Crabbe and Goyle are on either side of you."

"Exactly. And I'm not stupid enough to let you in on any of my plans. That's something the losing side and an overly-dramatic villain does."

For a second that stretched out into several, the two of them just stared into each other's eyes with such an intense hatred and coldness that it might have frozen the air around them and made the breeze icy cold.

"You know, _Grease-perra_," said Malfoy, putting emphasis on the nickname she hated so much, making her fist clench harder and her knuckles go whiter, "you may be pretty intelligent, but you've got no idea about some things—you _are_ the losing side!" His scowl turned into an almost frighteningly manic grin. "You have to realize that I'll always have what I want, and _you_ never will. Alright, so you've got a snake; but your father's a Muggle, your mother must hate you, no one at this school likes you and no one ever _will_, you've got no friends, and Professor Snape obviously doesn't return whatever feelings you've got for him, because he's a bloody _teacher_. The difference between you and me is that you're _alone_, and so it's one person against an army. Don't think that's ever going to change."

So much of that was true that Vesperra nearly forgot that not _all_ of it was. Her jaw was now extremely stiff, her teeth grinding together, and she had gone so long without blinking that her eyes were beginning to water—possibly with almost-tears of frustration as well.

For that moment, it had taken the truth to fool her, and now Malfoy had made her angry. Angrier than she had been in a while—since Potter's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. And now she really did feel like punching him in his stupid face.

Malfoy had been just as blunt a few times before, but it—along with every other creative way of saying these sort of things—never hurt any less. Vesperra just got used to it. But this was different, as she was now putting forth more mental effort on thinking of something to say back to him than controlling her anger and keeping herself from blowing up.

"Wrong," said Vesperra said firm growl several seconds later. She didn't specify exactly which part he had been wrong about, but she figured he might have known anyway. _No. Whether it makes me more or less similar to you, you're wrong about me being completely alone._

"Hm. Maybe," he said, seemingly bored. He blinked once, and then side-stepped to move suddenly away from her, jerking his head as he did. But he didn't turn around completely, which Vesperra was hardly able to register as odd before—

There was then an unexpected, stinging pain on both sides of her head, the main part of it throbbing in her ears. In spite of her usual control over her senses, it completely disoriented her in less than a second, and she let out a short moan of pain between her already gritted teeth as her hands flew to her ears. Her eyes flew shut in an attempt to block out the world and hopefully the pain, amidst which she realized that Crabbe or Goyle had clapped their hands hard over her ears—probably at a signal from Malfoy that she had seen, but not recognized for what it was until it was too late.

_So this is what he'd planned to do… _thought Vesperra, even her thoughts echoing. She couldn't hear anything outside of her head properly, as a dull ringing was filling her ears to go along in rhythm with the throbbing pain. Her entire body _and_ mind had been thrown off-balance, which she hated more than anything; her mind was her _world_, and that world was now going through a dangerous earthquake. Even though you would always know that an earthquake won't last long, you still find it scary. Something might get damaged.

Stumbling again and almost falling, she struggled to regain her balance and full control over her senses. She was _not_ liking this at all. While hunched over to the side (for some reason, keeping her head closer to the ground made it hurt less), Vesperra opened her eyes to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle a ways ahead of her, laughing, no doubt—though she couldn't hear it, because her range of sound was still distorted. Her sight was fuzzy as well, but getting better at a much faster rate.

Vesperra didn't care if there were people walking past her and wondering what had happened, or if they were laughing along with Malfoy despite not having known exactly what happened. All she cared about was stopping the pain—it was different from other sorts of physical pain. It was actually pain directly _to_ her brain, and so it was infinitely more difficult to ignore than anything else, even a broken bone.

Finally, what seemed like an eternity later, the pain calmed down, and she could easily walk and see and hear without much distortion over anything. She loathed Malfoy more than ever as she walked the rest of the way to Hogsmeade, feeling particularly vindictive as well. And as she did, one thought stayed prevalent in her mind, even coming out once in a low mutter to herself:

"_Still wrong._"

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**Sorry about the complete lack of Nott in that chapter. But don't worry, he'll come back in the next one (maybe)! I really enjoyed writing the Potions class scene, especially the parts that we didn't originally see while reading the books due to Harry leaving. And I think it's about time that Vesperra learns nonverbal spells...**

**Also, I loved writing the end scene, even though Vesperra had to get hurt in it. Although, the ear-clap thing is yet another reference (can you guess from where?).**

**If you want to list the references you recognized (or at least guess), or if you have a theory or just want to tell me what you thought of the chapter, _PLEASE_ review! I only got 1 review on the last chapter!**


	57. Book 4: Chapter 11

**I honestly can't believe that I managed to write all of this in just three days... But then again, I can, because there's a scene in this chapter that I've been impatient to write for a long time. Also, I know I can't blame you guys for the lack of reviews, since FF's login was down for a few days and wouldn't let you. Anyway... enjoy!**

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Despite her having been hindered by Malfoy and his cronies, Vesperra wasn't the last person into Hogsmeade. She hadn't been the last one to leave the castle, so naturally there were still plenty of people behind her.

She wondered how many people had clearly seen what had happened, and how many people cared. The ratio, she was sure, would be a rather small one. But she didn't need sympathy—she just wanted a chance to get revenge on Malfoy. That had been the most physically painful thing to happen to her in a while, and it almost erased the memory of all that he had said to her just before it.

Vesperra crossed the faded barrier between the dirt path and the brick that determined she was, indeed, in Hogsmeade, with a faint ringing still in her ears. It was now weak enough that she could easily ignore it, but that didn't make her any less annoyed at it or angry at Malfoy. Her purpose for being in Hogsmeade had gone from innocent to vindictive, as she now had a goal other than to buy a couple things: Find Malfoy, get him alone, and do something just as painful to him. Considering her enemy's somewhat compulsive nature, which often included confronting her even when it was dangerous for him, that wouldn't be too difficult.

She'd have liked to say that the inner workings of her mind were hiding behind a mask and that no one could possibly have guessed the intentions of the small girl strolling along High Street, but… she was Vesperra. For the people who didn't already know her reputation, her demeanor and the facial expression she was stuck with most of the time should have given away that—in essence—she was not to be reckoned with. At the very least you would be attacked with a rude and acid-like remark. Sometimes, she wasn't sure whether this was a good or a bad thing.

The thing was, though, she had to _avoid_ Malfoy as well. Whatever happened next between them today, it couldn't be around anyone else, except perhaps Crabbe and Goyle, if Malfoy so chose. Her best bet was either near the Shrieking Shack or somewhere on the nearly deserted side-streets off High Street. He expected her to want revenge too, she was sure, and he was probably looking forward to it. After all, what's the point of fighting someone if they don't fight back? Then it's just boring.

And so, as she started up the street of shops and crowds of excited teenagers, Vesperra kept an eye out for any white-blonde hair flanked by thuggish shapes, at the same time finding several strategic points to hide that she planned to use if she saw those boys. It felt almost surreal, to be acting like she was on some sort of spy mission while everyone else was just here to drink butterbeer and spend money and have fun. But then again, when did she ever feel like a normal person?

Although, she still wanted to do some of the things she had planned to do in Hogsmeade. She would, of course, have to spend a bit of the money she had brought (which her mum, since she had a job again, had been able to give to her before she'd left on the Hogwarts Express), if only to fulfill her needs and to enjoy the little things like a normal person did.

It was more difficult to maneuver High Street than Vesperra remembered, and she supposed that, once again, it was because of the added people from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. There were probably also more people around from all over Britain, having come to watch the First Task. The Triwizard Tournament hadn't, after all, happened for a few hundred years.

Upon passing the entrance to the path that would lead up the hill to the Shrieking Shack, Vesperra slowed down and briefly considered going up there to either wait for or (hopefully) find Malfoy—but, figuring that she shouldn't spend too long trying to make a choice, she decided on not doing it. She _had_ originally decided to come to Hogsmeade in the first place instead of staying in the castle with Severus for the reason that most people had, and she wanted to visit some of the shops first.

The Three Broomsticks was extremely full at this time, so she hardly gave it a second's thought before walking on by. She did, however, try to get a good look inside the pub to see who was in it as she did. Suddenly, she remembered the first couple times she had been in there, and how the only reasons had been to meet up with Damien. Vesperra wondered if he would ever invite her to meet up with and talk to him in Hogsmeade again, and if it would be for a completely innocent reason next time, or if it would be something else about his mum—her aunt. Might he have wanted to talk to her today, just to catch up, if he wasn't busy with something? If anything, she figured he would be busy with that dragon right now. If he hadn't sold it by now, it would probably be taking up a lot of space… unless it had eaten him.

At this point in her life attending Hogwarts, Vesperra was no longer interested in the minor shops, since the reason for her visit wasn't just for the novelty anymore. So she planned on only hitting the high points—well, the high points for _her_. Perspective was everything, and hers would be considered an odd one by most: Honeydukes, Tomes and Scrolls, and Dervish and Banges. Shops may vary depending on her mood.

However, now that she actually had a decent amount of money to spend, she did want to visit the apothecary as well. Just in case there was something within her budget that she wouldn't have access to in the student potions cupboard (even though she didn't find that likely—she really just wanted to have a look at some of the rarer ingredients they'd procured).

The owner of the shop apparently wasn't used to having children want to just look around at the jars and vials, but at the same time delighted. Vesperra was one of the few students in there, though it wasn't empty in any sense. A handful of the local adults were weighing horns and powder and examining jars of jellyfish stingers and whatnot. She had been in there before, but it had been a long enough time that she'd almost forgotten.

Part of her just wanted to see if they had some of the things she knew Severus to have in his private stores. It was probably some sort of subconscious check of whether her friend had the most diverse and valuable stock of ingredients in this part of Britain. But then again, a lot of the things Severus had, he had obtained by illegal means.

The one thing that did interest her was the large jar full of yellowish-white powder that sat on a high shelf, which turned out to be powdered narwhal horn. From what she'd read, it generally had a sort of numbing effect, which would be effective for many medicinal potions as well as poisons. Vesperra couldn't remember if Severus kept any, but she did know that she saw the usefulness in it and wanted to have some for herself. Immediately her left hand started undoing the string on her money pouch inside her pocket, and there was a slight glint in her eye as she moved away front the shelf and found the shop owner, who was walking away from a customer he had been helping.

"How much for a few ounces of powdered narwhal horn?" she asked the man without any sort of preliminary greeting or even an "Excuse me," sounding unintentionally rude. Well, she knew she sounded rude, but she really didn't care. When her mind was in potion-mode, or focusing on anything else she was at all passionate about, it was like any memory of manners was completely gone, having fled from her mind or perhaps been temporarily deleted. Besides, she just didn't see the point in making an effort to be kind to people she didn't care about. Which was nearly everyone.

He seemed slightly surprised at the suddenness and sharpness of her question, possibly at how business-like she was for a child and lacking in ability to connect properly with other people, but hesitated only for a second.

"It's five Sickles an ounce, so you can choose from there how much you want if any at all," he told her. His voice was kind and matched his face—he was apparently the sort of person who liked to be nice to all people and not hold onto grudges for small gestures or tones of voice. Or perhaps he had just been working at this apothecary for a long time and was therefore used to putting on a nice face just because it was the professional thing to do. Vesperra didn't think she would ever be able to do that.

Her eyes widened and lit up momentarily at that news, and, without thinking, the hand that was already inside her pocket seized the pouch of coins and pulled it out. She glanced down at it just to make sure of what her fingers were doing as she quickly undid the drawstring, and then she grabbed a handful of coins; rather than counting out what she needed, she pushed back all that wasn't what she needed. By a lucky chance, she had happened to pull out almost exactly what she needed anyway.

"Three ounces, then. In a bag. Thanks." Vesperra dropped the fifteen silver coins into the man's hand and returned her money pouch to her pocket a second later. Her lips twitched upward at the edges for a moment, but it wasn't a smile of politeness or even something she forced herself to do because she thought she should probably do it—it was just a smirk to herself. _I'll have to be stringent with my money for the rest of the year, but it's worth it. Besides, it's been a while since I've made an impulse purchase…. It's nice to lose the monotony every once in a while. _

Blinking once (likely taking a second to just be amazed—not in a good way—at her almost complete lack of etiquette or social skills), the apothecary owner quickly counted the Sickles and then dropped them into the pocket of his work robes. While Vesperra waited, her arms folded impatiently over her chest, she watched him stride over to the counter to pull out a small drawstring bag, and then pull out his wand and flick it at the jar of powdered narwhal horn so it would float down. He scooped the exact amount she'd asked for into the bag, pulled the string tight, and returned the jar to its place.

As he handed it to her, he smiled, but this time it seemed more obligatory than genuine. "Anything else?"

But Vesperra had already begun to walk away, and so his question had become useless in the middle of him saying it. Still, she shook her head as she made for the door, as an instinctual response. Beneath the conversations of the others in the apothecary and the increasing volume of the outside, she heard the man mutter, "Well, have a nice day, then…," clearly a bit disgruntled.

For a second or so even after she had stepped back out into the slight breeze of High Street, Vesperra held up the white bag in her hands, squeezing softly at the sides to feel the powder within it. _Can't wait to find a use for this,_ she thought, slipping it far down into one of her inner pockets—for extra safety.

First checking to see that Malfoy wasn't anywhere nearby (though he might have been, and she just didn't see him), she continued up the street to her next stop that was a _must_—Honeydukes. What could she say, she liked chocolate. That was probably one of the most normal things about her.

It was easier to tolerate a dense crowd when the walls surrounding her were covered in candy, she noticed. The main part of her self-imposed obligation to visit Honeydukes every time she came to Hogsmeade, though, was to purchase a box of Chocolate Cauldrons that had Firewhiskey in them. Severus liked them, and he most certainly wasn't going to buy them himself. She considered it a sort of tradition for them, too.

Once she'd managed to shuffle past the people surrounding the wall of chocolate (which was actually rather easy, because of her skinniness and short height) and grabbed a box of those Chocolate Cauldrons off the shelf, Vesperra tried to make as quick a trip around the magical sweet shop as she could—just to get the usual stuff like other types of chocolate and some hard candy. The route was easy to map out in her head, but it wasn't as quick as she'd gone through in her mind because of all the people around, hindering her.

As she'd remembered from last year, the table in the corner marked with a sign saying _UNUSUAL TASTES_ was empty, and there was a radius of a good three feet around it where there was no one. Vesperra side-stepped to avoid ramming straight into a Hufflepuff girl she vaguely remembered to be named Carol Marlow (Pansy had teased her once for her weight in front of all the rest of the Slytherins), then skillfully maneuvered her way past a couple more people.

A second or so before she reached the table, though, she felt something hit her upper arm lightly.

"Hey," said a familiar voice, before she even managed to turn her head all the way to the side.

Looking as though he had just pushed his way past some people himself to approach her (by his stance), Theodore Nott was standing beside her, smirking slightly. His hair looked a bit ruffled, which she guessed might have been because of an increase in the speed of wind outside.

Giving a small nod of her head in greeting, she continued walking to the table she'd been heading for, assuming he'd follow, then leaned on it. "I just can't get rid of you, can I?" said Vesperra jokingly, smirking to make it more obvious in case her tone didn't make it clear enough. Nott was one of the few people she made at least a small effort not to offend.

Without waiting for a response, she looked away from Nott's wind-nipped face and reached her hand out toward the jar of Blood Pops to grab a few, then dropped those into the bag of candy she already had.

"Not until you threaten me," he said slightly breathily, as he was inhaling at the same time. "And you haven't done that yet, so I think I'm good." Vesperra glanced at him, and they shared a brief, mutual smirk before Nott looked from the jar of Blood Pops to her bag. "You actually like those things?"

Out of habit, her brow furrowed into the beginning of an annoyed scowl, and she pursed her lips. "Yeah. Why—doesn't everybody?" she added sarcastically.

"Well, I suppose it's not all that weird if you put it into perspective…. I mean, there's a whole wall full of sweets that are supposed to be fun, but are actually pretty unpleasant when you think about them—or actually taste them."

"Glad _someone_ agrees with me…," said Vesperra, "although, Honeydukes probably wouldn't make half of its sales if not for the special-effects sweets."

"As much as I'm enjoying talking with you about the state of our economy, Pansy and her friends have just come in, so we should probably get to leaving."

Vesperra looked to where Nott was pointing, and indeed saw the pug-like face of Pansy Parkinson, along with the two other girls that were almost the equivalent to her Crabbe and Goyle, and whose haughtiness she could practically sense from across the shop. And Nott was right: The last thing she wanted was to be approached by those girls and be taunted about getting fat or something, however far-fetched and idiotic those insults would be.

"Yeah, alright," she said. "Just have to pay for these first."

With Nott following her, she sidled her way to the counter and gave the proper amount of Sickles and Knuts to Mrs. Flume, who was manning it at the moment. Nott paid for all that he had already collected in a Honeydukes bag as well. Then, making sure not to walk in the direct line of sight of Pansy, Tracey, or Daphne, they walked out of the shop with their bags of sweets in hand.

"You know," he said as they walked farther up High Street, "I never thought you'd like sugar all that much. I mean, getting Cauldron Cakes on the Hogwarts Express is one thing, since that's all there is to eat, but I didn't think you'd want to go inside a shop so full of people."

"Yeah, well…" _Severus likes Chocolate Cauldrons._ "Even I can't hate chocolate. And I wouldn't think you liked sweets that much, either."

Now a bit annoyed, Vesperra hoped this didn't drag on for a long time. While she might not have minded talking to Nott during Care of Magical Creatures or Ancient Runes class or in the corridors, she hadn't expected for him to join her here. _Dammit, how did I end up spending the day with him in Hogsmeade…?_ If he went with her to Tomes and Scrolls, she wouldn't mind, but she hoped he would see Blaise and go spend time with him instead. Even aside from her plans for Malfoy, she felt that walking around a village with someone (and _exclusively_ with them) was a mark of friendship, and that was just too deep and too close.

Looking around, Vesperra noticed what she had been both anxious and reluctant to notice all day—Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. The three of them were walking on the other side of High Street, with the leader of them making extensive hand gestures and saying something to the others, who were laughing. But they were all too focused on each other, and so there was no need for Vesperra to duck or hide in any fashion. She did, however, try to keep an eye on them—but at the same time to be discreet about it.

"Hm. Well, now that we know a bit about each other," said Nott, not noticing where Vesperra's attention was, "d'you want to sit down? I've been standing up for a couple hours straight now, and I don't feel like heading right back into a huge crowd at the Three Broomsticks."

Though part of her was a little annoyed at Nott's apparent assumption that they were just going to do everything together for the rest of their time in the village (and also confused as to how he could actually enjoy her company that much), she felt that it was a good idea. Especially since she could sort of keep an eye on Malfoy and see where he was headed to while staying in one spot.

"Sure," she said quickly and almost too mechanically, seeking out the nearest bench, which was near the corner where High Street and one of the side-streets met. Nott had to hurry to keep up with her as she strode toward it, glancing back once or twice under the pretense of making sure he was still there, but actually checking to see where Malfoy was.

When she was a few feet from the bench, however, she suddenly caught a flash of white-blonde in her peripheral vision—and it was to her left, not her right. Either way, it was impossible, as it didn't cross her mind whatsoever that it could have been something that _wasn't_ a Malfoy. Remaining standing instead of sitting down, she whipped her head around to the side-street where she'd caught the glimpse, and saw that her subconscious had been right: It was Lucius Malfoy.

He hadn't been there a moment before, though; if he had, Vesperra would have noticed. That left one possibility—he had just Apparated there. _What's Malfoy's father doing in Hogsmeade…?_

And that was answered for her less than a second later, just as Theodore Nott came up right next to her, panting slightly: Another man became suddenly visible, but by walking into the distant scene rather than popping in spontaneously. His hood was up, but the layer of furs on his robes and the bit of silver she could see poking out of the bottom of his face told Vesperra immediately that it was Karkaroff.

_Fuck,_ she thought, frowning with both worry and frustration—and were Severus to hear her mentally swear, he would know that whatever's happened was serious, as she generally preferred to use the word _damn_.

This might not have seemed such a serious situation to anyone else, though, because they weren't _her_—no one else's mind could have worked even similar to hers, she was sure. But she was now faced with an extremely difficult decision, and her brain was ready within a second to _explode _with the ambivalence: Something was clearly up, as Lucius Malfoy and Karkaroff were clearly meeting on purpose, and that was almost painfully suspicious—painful enough that Vesperra couldn't resist not doing anything about it. Acting on that impulse, though, would mean that it was less likely for her to get the revenge on Malfoy that she wanted.

Her mind whirred and shuffled through everything relevant, weighing all the pros and cons of both options within a second, but none of it mattered in the end. Vesperra knew she would be angry with herself if she didn't go along with her gut this time, as it was sometimes necessary to do.

Nott apparently noticed her somewhat strained neck and intense gaze in the direction of the side street, since he tapped her on the arm as he sat down.

"Hey, are you—?"

"Got to leave," she said quickly, taking her Honeydukes bag and stuffing it inside her robes without much care for making sure she didn't crush them, and craning her neck to see the two men she was watching start walking further down that side street. "Sorry, it's important—don't wait for me—"

"Wait, I thought you—"

"Just don't worry about it!" Vesperra practically growled at him, throwing him an angry look before throwing her hood up and hurrying away, down the street that she had seen Lucius Malfoy and Karkaroff on. She tried to hurry up so that she could be close behind while tailing them, but at the same time not to be seen or look suspicious. _Like they're even trying to do that…_

But it didn't really matter, she noticed, because this particular side-street was mostly empty space and houses but for a couple shops, one of which she had been to before, which was also where she had a feeling the two men were headed.

Lucius and Karkaroff were walking side by side, apparently casually. It wouldn't have seemed suspicious if not for the fact that they were two men whom Vesperra knew to be ex-Death Eaters, obviously meeting together and trying to be secretive—and to top it all off, just three days before the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Keeping a certain distance between them and herself, but just close enough that she could see them clearly, she followed them down the street. She was careful not to let her shoes make much noise against the brick as she walked, since she thought they might be checking behind themselves occasionally.

Which they did do, once or twice, but luckily didn't see Vesperra, for she had a split-second advantage to duck behind something. After a minute or so of walking swiftly, she saw them turn sideways toward the Hog's Head Inn. As they did, they glanced around to check for anyone who might be watching them, once again forcing Vesperra to duck. This time, though, she practically had to jump onto her stomach, rolling to the side onto the grass of someone's property, which was concave and allowed her to roll down to where they wouldn't see her—but she could still see them.

She waited a few seconds for them to disappear into the pub, and then scrambled to get up, immediately starting to walk quickly toward the place, all the while brushing leaves and dirt off of her coat and robes. When she was about twenty feet away, she stopped in her tracks, realizing what she was about to do—she was about to follow them in there. _Damn, did I really think this was a good idea? …No, of course I didn't._

But she was going to go against her Slytherin nature and do it anyway. Sighing inwardly, she continued walking at a fast pace against the wind. _Well, time to be a modern-day Sherlock Holmes, then._

Vesperra pushed open the door of the Hog's Head and walked inside, where it wasn't much warmer than the outside. That was because of the lack of fire in the fireplace, and possibly also because of the faulty ventilation system. She kept her hood up, partly because she couldn't risk being recognized by either Mr. Malfoy or Karkaroff, and partly because it also made her fit in more with a lot of the customers who were inside the Hog's Head. More than half the people in there had their faces covered—but both fortunately and ironically not the men she had come in here to watch.

Not giving a first glance let alone a second to the other people in the pub, Vesperra approached the bar and slid herself into one of the empty stools. As always, she managed to walk in the sort of way that made it seem like she was supposed to be there—really, if you _acted_ like you didn't feel out of place, no one else would think you were. Ironically, the one place she couldn't do this was her own house.

A short ways down the bar, an old man with a grizzled, gray beard slid a young man a glass full of some purple liquid, and he slid a Galleon over in return, muttering "Ta."

The man she knew to be called Aberforth grumbled incoherently and walked over to Vesperra, who practically smacked two Sickles on the bar and then said dismissively, "A butterbeer." She took the moment that Dumbledore's brother took her money and bent down to grab her a bottle of butterbeer to glance very briefly over at the booths, where she was sure Mr. Malfoy and Karkaroff would be unless they had gone upstairs. When she didn't manage to catch sight of them in so little time, she gave up and turned her attention back to her front. Aberforth was staring at her strangely, but that was most likely because he didn't get students in here often.

Taking the butterbeer, she nodded in acknowledgement and thanks, then slid off the stool and took it to a booth on the far side of the room, which was about the farthest from anyone else in the pub she could have gotten. As soon as she sat down, her eyes searched the booths on the adjacent wall for the men she had followed here, and it wasn't difficult.

They were sitting across from each other in the second to last seat on the left side, talking somewhat animatedly, and with a glass of Firewhiskey next to both of them. At once, Vesperra set her own drink aside and pulled her wand out of its holster in her sleeve, and then pointed it directly (but surreptitiously) at them, saying in her mind: _Sonorego!_

Their table suddenly came into clearer view, not so much closer to her as it was that everything else was blurred out so much that the area she was focusing on looked very sharp in comparison, and she could hear them as if she was standing right next to them. _Thank God for Severus._

"—von't talk to me, I'f told you; I'm not sure vy, but I know there's no getting through to him anytime soon," Karkaroff was saying in a hushed voice, his Russian accent coming on heavier than usual in his apparent anxiety. "I know ve vere never close, but I need to be clear of vot's going to happen."

"Happen when?" came Lucius Malfoy's disdainful voice, stirring up some of Vesperra's hatred for his son.

"In the future—but that's the problem, Lucius! I need to know _ven_ votever it is vill happen… as I'm sure you do, as vell. Are you not afraid?"

"I don't see what there is to be afraid of…," said Mr. Malfoy calmly, looking down and taking a sip of his drink. "What is it, anyway, that you even have to go on? _You're_ the one who asked _me_ to meet here, so I think I'll be asking the questions first."

"Surely you know, Lucius? You must haff felt _something_…."

"Out with it, Karkaroff—I've had enough of your vagueness and have half a mind to just leave—"

And then Karkaroff leaned forward, pulling up his sleeve to show Lucius something on his arm, and eliciting a confused frown from both him and Vesperra. _What…?_

"_Put that away!_" hissed Mr. Malfoy, glancing anxiously to his left to see if anyone was now looking towards them. Vesperra briefly felt exposed, like he might see her, but she was, in reality, far enough away that she had nothing to worry about. Karkaroff jerked his robe sleeve back down, scowling. "Alright, I admit I'm not completely oblivious to your meaning—happy? I—let's… head somewhere more private, if we _must_ talk about this."

Angrily, he brought his Firewhiskey up to his mouth and tilted his head back for a long drink, and then set the only half-empty tankard back down before standing up. Lucius didn't beckon Karkaroff to come with him, but instead just crossed the room to where the staircase started and headed up it, simply expecting the inferior man to follow. The thought '_arrogant bastard_' would have crossed Vesperra's mind if she hadn't done the same thing at least twice to Nott earlier. And Karkaroff did follow, but he looked a little disgruntled and reluctant to waste perfectly good Firewhiskey.

The moment they were both gone from the table, Vesperra let her focus break, as she had now only been staring at a couple of drinks. She realized that she had been gripping her cold (and still full) bottle of butterbeer hard for the past couple minutes, and quickly let go of it so that her hand didn't freeze. Staring intently at the spot where she'd last seen Karkaroff, she tried furiously to work her mind into coming up with an idea.

_Shit._ She was going to have to go up there. And the only idea that came to mind was even more ridiculously stupid (meaning dangerous, in this sense, as it was actually a quite clever plan) than the idea to have started following Lucius and Karkaroff in the first place. More expletives went through her mind, and then she decided that if she wanted to get anywhere with this, she really didn't have time to hesitate.

Once again, she pointed her wand discreetly across the pub, but this time at the glass full of purple liquid belonging to the young man at the end of the bar, which was currently sitting on the bar rather than in his hand. At her muttered spell (as she hadn't learned this one nonverbally yet, and wasn't going to take the time to practice right now), the glass appeared to push itself off the edge of the bar and onto the floor, upon the impact of which, it broke loudly.

While everyone else in the room automatically turned toward the source of the noise and Aberforth rushed, confused, to clean up the shards of glass, Vesperra wasted no time in sliding out of her seat (first moving the butterbeer from the table to the chair, so no one saw it and got suspicious) and hurrying to the staircase on her side of the pub. It was a good ten feet to cross without anyone noticing, but she was sure that the glass being pushed over by a mysterious force had caused enough confusion to sufficiently distract them long enough.

On the stairs, she was careful not to make too much noise. She knew it might be difficult to find Lucius and Karkaroff if she was starting from the opposite side of the building, and she had to be careful to make sure that she wasn't heard or seen. So, for the next few minutes (which felt like much longer than that), she found herself walking quickly yet carefully through dusty, wooden hallways, peering around corners while pressed up against the wall, and occasionally hearing or even seeing rats scurrying by through holes in the wall or up on the rafters. _Merlin, this place is really unsanitary…._

About a minute in, she heard the creak of a door, and her heart stopped altogether in panic. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere behind her, so she immediately ran forward and practically launched herself to the side, where the hallway cut off to a narrow staircase. Knowing that it was rather likely for whoever was coming out of that door to turn the same way, Vesperra took hold of the railing on the wooden staircase and pushed down on it so as to hurl herself over—she was ready to hold herself on the underside of the stairs for as long as it took to avoid being caught, but there was luckily a rafter almost directly under where here feet were dangling, and she carefully lowered herself onto it.

Absolute and utter relief coursing through her, she steadied herself on the rafter and continued to hold onto the lower part of a bar that supported the staircase's railing. Really, she was in a relatively convenient spot now, unlike the previous several minutes: The rafter she was crouching on was crossed with two beams that supported the staircase, so she was only in trouble if anyone came up the stairs leading from the hallway below her. But she was still panicked as hell.

Her heart was beating frantically, she was short of breath, and sweat was making her hair stick to her face despite the temperature (or lack thereof) inside the Hog's Head—but she still made the effort not to make any noise. Especially not when she heard a familiar voice in the narrow hallway below her.

"Where my loyalties lie won't affect _you_, Karkaroff," said Mr. Malfoy with more contempt than he'd been speaking with before. Through the five inches or so of space between the rafter and the opposite edge of the staircase she was nearly under, Vesperra saw him pointing one finger at the other man with the other hand on the wall. "I don't plan on vouching for you to the Dark Lord, when whatever is going to happen happens. Your sins are greater than mine, and you realize that—that's why you've asked to talk to me. But what you have forgotten since we were last in contact is that _I_ am an extremely selfish man."

Karkaroff's arms shook slightly, and though Vesperra was somewhat confused and couldn't see his face, she was sure that it was wearing an expression of near-horror. "So you… you agree—you believe that I vill not haff any chance for forgiveness?"

"Of course not."

"But how are you so sure that _you_ do?—Surely you fear it too; you can't be an overly-confident arse _oll_ the time, Lucius Ma—"

"Just as I wouldn't expect you to be a coward and an idiot _all _the time, either, Karkaroff," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, stepping closer to the other man as though he was a spider trapping a fly. "But I suppose I have forgotten a bit about you as well. Selfish I may be, but I was very valuable to the Dark Lord, more than you were. And I will do anything so long as to protect my family, whereas you have nothing to protect—save, perhaps, your precious little Krum. But we both know he can do without you."

At that, Mr. Malfoy turned and strode down the short and narrow hallway until he reached a doorway that undoubtedly led down to the pub, and Karkaroff made a both frustrated and exasperated hand gesture before following him. Vesperra closed her eyes for a second, trying to take in all that she had just heard, but suddenly heard another set of footsteps and looked down again—it was Aberforth, passing Karkaroff on his way to the stairs that would lead him directly past her.

Whether he was coming up specifically to look for her, she didn't care; Vesperra just wanted to get the hell out of there. Her heart racing again, she stood up and jumped to grab the railing of the part of the staircase that was above her, then pulled herself upward. Thanks to her longer-than-average legs, it was easy to flip her body over it and get on the level floor.

She made a split-second decision (for about the sixth time that day—that was probably a record for her) and ran down the hallway in the direction from which she had come before—and at the end of which was a window. Normally, she wouldn't have considered doing this for one moment, but the footsteps of the owner were getting louder by the second, and she had no choice.

It was suddenly quite lucky that the Hog's Head was such a run-down place, because the windows had no glass, which saved Vesperra about a second. There was no time even to think _I can't bloody believe I'm about to do this_ before she put one foot up on the dusty windowsill, jerked out her wand, and pointed it at the ground three stories below, concentrating very hard and muttering the incantation for a Cushioning Charm.

Naturally, a great wave of fear almost overtook her and stopped her from doing this, but at this time her sense of logic was greater than anything; she assured herself that magic would save her, and if she didn't do it, she would be in bigger trouble. And then she jumped.

Contrary to what most people would say, falling was nothing like flying. Even though Vesperra made sure that her feet stayed parallel with the ground, she felt her heart rise to her throat in those few seconds that she was airborne. Her feet soon met the ground, and her Cushion Charm fortunately worked—it felt like landing in a pile of pillows, or at least what she imagined that would feel like. However, she felt so much relief at her escape that her legs gave way a second later, making her sit, knees to her chest, against the outside wall of the Hog's Head.

_Merlin… damn, I must have only beaten him by three seconds,_ _if even that,_ she thought, trying to catch her breath and calm down—but she quickly realized that she didn't _want_ to calm down. Vesperra had chosen to go after Lucius and Karkaroff because she had known it would take more of her mind, more of her daring side, and more of her desire for something exciting. And though self-preservation was one of her main Slytherin traits, determination and cunning—and the desire to prove herself, if only in her own eyes—had overruled that today. Besides, it didn't matter that she had put herself in danger, because she had known that her own intelligence would get her out of it, and the thrill felt _good_.

"Well…," she muttered to herself, letting out a breathy laugh, "that certainly _was_ a challenge."

"Yeah, sure seems like it, D'Monicas," said a gravelly voice to her right.

Her heart stopped and her muscles stiffened, a look of dread forming instantly on her face. Swallowing, she slowly turned her head over to see a man with a heavily scarred face, a mane of gray, grizzled hair, and an electric blue eye focused directly on her—which was actually more frightening than seeing it spinning around in its socket—standing only four feet from her.

Though this was a perfect moment for a series of curse words to run through her mind, Vesperra's thoughts remained deadly quiet as she stared at Professor Moody.

It was quite ironic that Severus had no idea what his best f

* * *

riend and his old friend were up to, especially while he was pacing around his office, contemplating something of similar importance.

The day before, he had yet again felt a sharp sting on his left inner forearm that had lasted no longer than a split second. Because of it, a great deal of dread had been building up inside him since then—more than he had been feeling lately on principle, anyway. He supposed that it was because he now knew that Potter's life was in several times more danger than it had been the last time this happened. And the First Task drawing ever nearer made it worse.

And so Severus hadn't been able to get the sting of his Dark Mark out of his mind. After he had felt the brief burn of it during dinner on Friday, his mind had gone into a lapse of what might have looked like depression if he were to let it show—but it was actually the weight that was on him now. The weight of a yet-to-be-made decision.

Having Vesperra gone and off at Hogsmeade was actually a good thing for today, in a way, however much he would hate to admit that to himself. Severus _wanted _to need her comfort in a time like this—but she _couldn't_ comfort him, not for this. Her being here would only make things more difficult.

So the decision now was whether to keep the latest installment of his life to himself, or to finally go and tell Dumbledore. He had already decided one thing about a month ago: There was no denying that he'd felt something, and it even looked noticeably darker now. Just slightly, but noticeably.

Weighing the pros and cons in his mind as he walked back and forth, listening to nothing but the sound of his own footsteps, resulted in one side of the scale far outweighing the other—in worth, at least. There were plenty of reasons _not_ to go to Dumbledore, but all of those were selfish and could possibly hinder them in getting ahead of Voldemort. At some point (early on, actually), the pacing just became procrastination.

_So what if the old man is likely to give you a load of shit and nonsense, Severus? You're bloody used to it…. He might not know, and this could be important for him to know. Staying here will only make you want to stay longer, and—_

_Merlin, I'm talking to myself. _

Strangely enough, the hope to not start going as senile as Dumbledore so early in his life was enough to get him to stop pacing, directly across from his office door. Severus stared at it for a second, scowling, and then crossed the room in two quick, long strides, his arm already out and ready to open the door so that he left the room in one, swift movement. Up the empty dungeon corridors and staircase he walked, letting out a small growl-like harrumph that echoed around him slightly.

As Severus made his way across the Entrance Hall and down a wide corridor that would lead to the entrance to Dumbledore's office, he saw no one and heard nothing but the distant pattering of footsteps, probably from a teacher in a nearby corridor or the floor above him. A scowl was currently stuck on his face, and he doubted it would come off until he saw Vesperra later—well, depending on what exactly would go on with him and Dumbledore once he talked to him.

It was with both impatience and a desire for the wall to come crumbling down and make access impossible for him that he gave the password to the stone gargoyle and walked up the already self-moving spiral staircase to the door with a brass door-knocker. Taking it in one pale, long-fingered hand, he hit it once against the door.

Before Dumbledore managed to finish saying "Enter," Severus was already inside. He shut the door a bit too loudly behind him and didn't hesitate to walk directly to the front of the desk of the man who was now looking up at him curiously. Then he folded his arms.

"I wish to speak with you, Albus," said Severus calmly, though not making an effort to hide the thrashing emotions behind his eyes that would prove he wasn't at all calm.

"Well, I guessed that much, Severus," said Dumbledore kindly, "from how you barged into my office and called me by my first name. Not that I was particularly busy with anything, but I trust this is important?"

"Very." Instead of sitting down in the chair across from the Headmaster as he normally would have, Severus stepped closer until he was nearly leaning over the man's desk, let out a deep sigh as his brow knitted further together, and stuck out his left arm to pull the sleeve up. "_This_ is what I wanted to talk to you about…. Yesterday, I felt it burn for just the slightest moment. It's gotten darker—not very, but it's not quite so faded anymore."

Dumbledore was no longer merely curious, but was now frowning seriously over his half-moon glasses and crooked nose at the mark of a snake protruding from a skull's mouth in front of his face. His mouth slightly open in what could only have been perceived as dread (if not horror), he slowly pushed himself up from his chair and moved his arms to support himself over the desk. The Headmaster looked down at the Dark Mark, and he suddenly looked much older than he usually did—his face was hard, and his wrinkles were oddly prominent.

When he titled his head upwards again and locked eyes with Severus, his blue ones weren't twinkling. He looked grave.

"How many times have you felt it burn, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, his voice a bit lower than before. With an intake of breath, he drew himself up and stood up all the way, straightening his pointed wizard's hat.

It was as though he already knew…. Severus severely wanted to know what the mechanics of the man's mind had been as he'd stared at the Dark Mark, but that would have to be saved for later if he ended up asking the question at all.

Pretty sure that he didn't need to keep it out (and also starting to feel physically uncomfortable with his arm like that), he pushed his robe sleeve back down and let his arm fall to his side. "This is the fourth so far—but I wasn't sure what it even _was_ the first two times," he added, not wanting to appear immature. That was counter-productive, though, because he momentarily felt like a small child who was trying his best to stretch the truth—but not too far—so as to avoid being in trouble.

Something flashed in Dumbledore's eyes—like annoyance, or the stopped-short impulse to roll his eyes, but it hardly stayed for even one second. The Headmaster looked otherwise completely calm, though, and sighed before sitting back down, gesturing for Severus to do the same. Obliging, he couldn't help but feel that the room (the situation, really, but the room was physically holding it) now had a distinct air that was not unlike what would be between two Muggle military officers, planning out strategies for war. He had a feeling that Dumbledore felt the same, and that it wasn't even very far from the truth.

"I've expected something of this sort to happen," said Dumbledore, folding his hands together in front of him—which, Severus was sure, helped him think, just as Vesperra often clasped both hands in front of her face. "It seems, at first glance, that it should make sense for any Dark Marks that have been branded on a Death Eater to grow stronger with his return—but now that we're faced with it, it raises many questions and several possibilities. For your Dark Mark to be both burning at irregular intervals and getting slightly darker each time, this either means that they are being purposely and manually affected, or that Voldemort is actually inextricably _linked_ to the Marks of the spell he invented… which could only be through his soul, because he hasn't had his original body for thirteen years…."

"Couldn't it be both, then?" said Severus in an unintentionally snappish tone. "If he actually has somehow connected it to his soul, then couldn't it be that he could turn it off and on at will?"

"Oh, he'd like that, I suppose, but even Voldemort can't hope for such a feat. No, he certainly doesn't place much fundamental value—if any—on the human soul, not even his own… I think he considers life and a soul two different things. I knew him as a small boy, I met him; I know what he fears and what he wants and what he believes—yes, he believes he physically _does_ have a soul, but he wouldn't want to think for even a second that he truly has one the way normal people think about it. Voldemort wouldn't purposely ingrain a magical ability directly into his soul even if it were possible. The only way the Dark Mark could be linked to it is if he knew the Dark Magic required for it made the connection both involuntary and necessary. I do not know the precise details of the magic he used to create his mark, nor do I believe that anyone but he does, but evidence would tell me that it is the Dark Marks that connect directly to his soul, not the other way around. So as his soul gains strength and his return looms ever nearer… the Mark becomes clearer. I do believe, if he were to be completely destroyed, the Dark Marks would have nothing to thrive on and would disappear, leaving nothing but the scars behind.

"However, Voldemort may or may not be able to hold a wand already. While both you and I are sure that he doesn't have a proper body yet, he may have a temporary one that allows him to grip a wand, which, of course, would make it all the much easier for him to use magic. He also likely has Wormtail with him, so that obviously _does_ leave the possibility that Voldemort is purposely causing all Dark Marks to twinge, but—"

"But you're not entirely convinced of that," interrupted Severus quietly, yet clearly. He unconsciously flexed his fingers and gripped the ends of his armrests, at the same time slowly grinding his teeth side to side.

"What makes you agree with me?" said the Headmaster, leaning a bit closer to him. Severus would have found that a rather oddly-worded question if he wasn't talking to Albus Dumbledore.

"A hunch, largely. But also the fact that I don't think the Dark Lord would want to warn us that he's about to come back. I have no doubt that he would have the ability to do whatever he wanted with his own spell, despite having never done anything of the sort before, but it seems like magic too strong for him to be capable of using if he doesn't have a proper body yet. I'd guess that he's too weak to do something like that. Either way, to warn those who used to be in his inner circle would be dangerous, as he's almost too narcissistic to be real and so he's never entirely trusted anyone. I suppose he's guessed that directly warning the old Death Eaters might result in them alerting other people to it, like I'm doing right now. You're not the only one who knows him, Albus."

"Correct, Severus," said Dumbledore, "but I assure you that no one can possibly claim to truly know Lord Voldemort." The twinkle in his eyes had reappeared, to Severus's annoyance (_Damn, just when I thought it might have completely gone for the day…_). "There are surely secrets that he will never divulge to anyone, which you yourself have just told me—_he's_ _almost too narcissistic to be real_. And that's what we have to go on, for the most part. The next question is, then—is it truly a gradual rise to power, or will it be a single event that he's planning?"

"Or both," Severus suggested bitterly.

"Yes, or both."

"Honestly, that does seem likely. He's the _Dark Lord_; of course it's going to be something dramatic. But it'll take a gradual increase in his strength—or at least a prolonged stay inside whatever temporary body he's using—to get there in the first place. And… still, of course, we can't fully rely on the fact that he'll even succeed. As low as it is, there _is_ the possibility of stopping him altogether."

"Yes, there is…," agreed Dumbledore, nodding slowly and leaning back in his chair, bringing his interlocked fingers up to his chin as though beginning to slip into deep thought. Severus thought that he might be about to sit there a long time and wait for the man to respond, but then the Headmaster dropped his folded hands back down on the desk and looked at him seriously.

"I will consider all that you have told me on my own when I have the chance, but there is one thing I want to ask you: Have you told Miss D'Monicas about any of this yet?"

_Oh, for Merlin's sake…_ Severus had known Dumbledore would ask that. In fact, that was what he had almost feared worse than the prospect of fully facing what he had been avoiding for so long. The hesitation was enough for the man across from him to know the answer, but the old man still waited for it.

"No, I haven't," sighed Severus, looking briefly away from Dumbledore. His thin neck strained slightly for a moment before he looked back into those piercing—and somewhat sad-looking, now—blue eyes.

"You've known her for nearly four years, Severus," he said calmly, yet almost sternly, like a reprimanding parent. "You've grown closer to her than you have to any other person since Lily, and you love her very much—it doesn't take a genius to realize this after watching you two. Don't you think the girl deserves to know where the rest of your heart has been?—otherwise, how can she truly hold on to the part she has?"

For a few seconds, Severus simply stared at Dumbledore, not making any indication that he was about to respond. And then his mouth twitched downward, the rest of his face briefly twisting into something of extreme sadness.

"Of _course_ she deserves it," he said in a low growl, his jaw feeling too stiff for him to enunciate more. "You may observe more that you let on, Albus, but you can still never know how often I contemplate telling her. I _want _to tell her, so badly—about Lily, about being a Death Eater, about Potter, everything… but that's just too much for one person to hold. I don't want to make her hurt anymore or give her another burden. I can't bring myself to do it."

Again, there was a pause, and Dumbledore studied him before speaking: "Well, it's obviously up to you, and I cannot force you to say anything to Miss D'Monicas, as she is your friend. But, Severus, you are being _immature_." His voice became just a bit deeper and more authoritative, and he frowned, making Severus's eyes widen slightly. "I've always known you to be a very logical man, but your own insecurities are getting in the way of this. I didn't want it to come to this—but if I were you, I would have told Miss D'Monicas much sooner. The longer you keep it from her, the more dangerous and difficult you're making it for her, yourself, and me. Trust me; I _understand_ why you don't want to tell her. And I admire the fact that you worry so much for her. But if you care about her and trust her enough to be able to handle it all, you will tell her. And soon."

Severus silently agreed with all of that, and he felt the existing shame and self-loathing return in greater quantities than before. _Thanks _so_ much, Dumbledore, for shoveling all of this onto me._

"What about me, then?" he asked after several minutes of silence. "Vesperra and I have been working against the Dark Lord since her first year, and I've talked to her several times about how I want nothing less than for her to become immersed in the Dark Arts. What do you propose I do if she hates me for who I used to be, and for being a bloody hypocrite? Frankly, I wouldn't blame her, either…."

"Why, you're the one who ought to be blamed in that situation, Severus," said Dumbledore. "You're drastically underestimating her. Absolutely nothing on earth could make that girl hate you."

* * *

"Get up, D'Monicas."

At Professor Moody's growl and jerk of his walking stick, Vesperra scrambled to her feet in spite of how exhausted she had been a moment before. If any other teacher—or even Dumbledore—had been the one to find her, she supposed she would have probably sighed and gotten up slowly, but there was a certain fear that came along with facing Moody. And the prospect of being turned into a ferret wasn't the worst that came to mind.

Stuffing her wand back into her sleeve, she brushed off her robes and hesitantly approached Moody. After facing all of those risks and beating the odds countless times… she was still going to be punished. And by the worst person she could have been punished by.

A very small part of her, however, felt that the thrill had been worth it.

When she was directly in front of the ex-Auror, trying to hide her dread, Moody's gnarled face twisted into something that looked like it might have been a smile—but she could never be sure, and highly doubted it anyway.

"Nice escape," he said, his normal eye narrowing, which made his magical eye look slightly creepier and odder in comparison. "That was a pretty damn impressive Cushion Charm for you to land safely on the ground after a three-story jump." And then, his smile became more obvious, but not any less disturbing.

Vesperra didn't want to get her hopes up, but she couldn't help but feel a wave of relief alongside her confusion. Just staring silently up at Moody for several seconds, she eventually said, "…What?"

"And pretty impressive _inside_ the Hog's Head, too, can't deny that," he continued, ignoring her. "You've got some skills, D'Monicas, and not just magic…."

"Er… thanks?" The lack of punishment or even a warning so far was catching her off guard, and she now felt a bit uncomfortable.

"Now, I'm not going to waste time asking you why you were in there in the first place, or why it was necessary for you to jump out of it, because I already know most of that. I'm sure you already know I can see plenty more than normal people do with _this_ thing—" He jerked his finger upward to point at his magical eye. "—and when I saw Lucius Malfoy and Karkaroff walking together, I followed. I just didn't expect to see you following, too…. Bit suspicious, isn't it?" Moody leaned forward on his walking stick and stared about as wide-eyed as he could get at her, clearly waiting for an answer.

Vesperra inhaled, trying her best not to appear nervous and resigning herself to the fact that she _would_ have to give an answer. Making Moody suspicious of her as well as Severus would be the worst thing she could do.

"I—well, I saw Lucius Malfoy Apparate in, Professor," she began to explain calmly, "and then Karkaroff started to walk with him. And I know that both of them used to work for You-Know-Who—so, after all that business at the Quidditch World Cup, I wanted to have a look and see what they were up to." She hoped that would be sufficient.

"But you didn't just 'have a look,' did you?" Moody straightened himself up again and raised one of his eyebrows, and for a moment Vesperra was fearing the worst. "No, you actually did some proper spying—and a bit dangerous, too. I wouldn't have guessed you were the sort to meddle in the affairs of grown wizards to try and get information that could preserve the safety of the Wizarding World. That's usually the stuff for Gryffindors, isn't it?"

For the first time, Vesperra felt daring enough to be even a little disrespectful in the face (if you could even call it a face anymore) of Mad-Eye Moody: That last comment had irritated her an awful lot, and her brow knitted together into almost a scowl.

"Just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean I support You-Know-Who, that I hate Muggleborns, or that I'm glad that someone cast the Dark Mark into the sky during the summer. I know you see Dark wizards everywhere you go, but the fact that I followed two ex-Death Eaters into the Hog's Head and risked being caught, banned from Hogsmeade, and possibly given several weeks of detention should prove to you that I don't aspire to be one of them." She ended it with a huff. This would have been the part where she narrowed her eyes and stormed off—if she hadn't been talking to a teacher.

Moody's expression slowly changed, but Vesperra could hardly tell to what—perhaps it was getting calmer. He didn't talk for a few seconds, but then he let out what sounded like a very low, very quick, gravelly laugh.

"Not necessarily," he growled, "when you've lived as long as I have and _experienced_ everything I have. If you ever decide to become an Auror, you'll get to know that anything's possible, and there's never a reason to put your guard down." Pausing, he reached down to grab his hip-flask from his belt, then tilted his head back to take a gulp of whatever was in it before securing it back. Vesperra had seen him do this so often that she didn't make any sort of questioning look or gesture, nor did she even glance down toward the flask.

_Oh, I think I already know that much…,_ she couldn't help but think as she remembered the past three years with Severus. But by his comment 'If you ever decide to become an Auror,' she was pretty sure that he still believed her. And he had yet to say anything about punishment, even after _she_ had mentioned it, so she so far figured that she was good.

"But, D'Monicas," continued Moody, "there's still one thing I'd like to know: What _exactly_ went on in there, and what did you see? There _is_ a point to where my eye can't see any further…. And—" He jerked his head to his right and craned his neck for a moment, frowning in the direction of High Street, then looked back. "—it seems to be about that time that everyone's leaving Hogsmeade, so let's get going. You can tell me while we walk back to Hogwarts."

And so Vesperra and Moody started the walk back down the side-street the Hog's Head was on to whence she had come from, at some point turning the corner and walking down High Street. They had to be the oddest-looking pair walking together, she thought; but then again, she also supposed that hardly anyone would actually see, and anyone who did would probably think that she had gotten in trouble and was being forced to walk with him.

It took less than ten minutes to relay the entire story, even with all the detail she was able to recall from the ideas she'd had and how she had managed to stay completely hidden the whole time. Of course, it also included some lying, as the reason for much of what she had known beforehand was Severus, and she had to do all that she could to avoid giving Moody the faintest idea that she might have a personal relationship with him—which included the fact that she used _Sonorego_, which Severus had invented. She had covered that up by referring to it simply as "a spell that made it easier to hear them." At that, Moody had raised an eyebrow, but fortunately didn't comment on it.

There was also the fact that she wasn't supposed to know that Voldemort was likely to return to a proper body and full power soon. And while it was fully possible that she could simply have recognized the signs and guessed it on her own, she felt that it was safest to act as though she had no clue, or at least like the mere idea of that was only just starting to form in her head and that she was hesitant to say anything about it.

When she was finished, they were hardly out of Hogsmeade yet. Professor Moody's face twisted into something Vesperra could finally recognize—concentration, and he stayed that way for a moment as he nodded to himself, not looking at her. "Interesting, very interesting… Dumbledore'll certainly be interested to hear some of that. And don't worry, he won't know you had anything to do with it, D'Monicas. Just try not to get into too much danger in the future for You-Know-Who's sake…. Good afternoon, then."

Giving her a sharp nod, he moved away from her, starting to limp faster and clunking his walking stick harder against the ground. As Vesperra watched Moody leave her presence, she almost couldn't believe she had gotten away with all of that—more or less, that she had stayed in one piece all through it. Truthfully, it felt rather good to have actually done something usefulthat would help both Dumbledore _and_ Severus. Before now, this year, what all had she done as far as the problem of Voldemort's inevitable return went? Hardly anything; exactly.

Alright, she had spent several hours talking to Severus, coming up with theories and re-analyzing everything, but it's not as though that had actually _done_ anything. They hadn't gotten any further in solving anything or creating a plan—and Severus was the one to keep an eye on Karkaroff and figure out the important things. But now, she had had the chance to use her mind as well as her other skills in order to do some legitimate spying. Vesperra felt like she was actually part of the team now, and that being fourteen didn't make her any less useful.

A pleasant sense of satisfaction coursing through her, she walked the rest of the way down the dirt path to the Hogwarts gates alone, all the while with plenty to occupy her mind but not necessarily a fundamental _need_ to be thinking so constantly. She could hardly remember ever having been so content over something that her thoughts were driven more by her _wanting_ to think than her mind just going off on its own because that's what it _did_.

Vesperra spent a large chunk of her time thinking about whether or not to tell Severus. Most of the inner argument against it was that he'd be angry with her for putting herself in danger, but she ended up deciding that she would have to tell him, for there was always the possibility that Dumbledore would keep the information for himself once he knew, or that the information would mean something different to Severus. Either way, this was one of the times when she wanted to be fully honest with her best friend—especially because she would probably have never have done that if it weren't for him.

Then, of course, there was the actual speculation on all that she had seen. Vesperra sort of wanted to save it for when she discussed it with Severus, but she simply couldn't help at least spending _some_ time on it: Most of it, she didn't need to question, because it was obvious that Karkaroff had been asking Lucius Malfoy about what he intended to do when Voldemort returned. But he had also mentioned talking to someone else who wouldn't listen to him and had shown the other man something on his arm…. What could that have been? Even after a thorough racking of her brain, she couldn't answer that for herself.

Next on her mind's list of priorities was Malfoy, revenge on whom she had neglected today in favor of his father. She couldn't help but be annoyed with herself that she had let a chance slip through her fingers, but at the same time several new plans formed in her head. It would have to be inside the school, then, which somewhat limited the possibilities, but always left room for potion-related incidents….

Excellent. Now all she had left to worry about were the at least partially crushed sweets in her robes pocket and the fact that she had wasted two Sickles on a butterbeer that she had never drank.

* * *

**I am so glad to finally have been able to write the Hog's Head scene. It's about time Vesperra got some real spying done, isn't it? Also, even though Nott didn't stay very long, as the writer I think that he was important to the chapter.**

**Other than the plot development of Karkaroff and Moody and all that, one of the main things I tried to establish throughout this chapter is that, even if she occasionally does a couple things that are pretty standard, Vesperra will _never_ be normal. Not socially, not psychologically, and certainly not emotionally.**

**And for any of you who watch/read Sherlock, I swear I didn't realize the similarity to Reichenbach until after I wrote it. Sorry... too soon? But seriously, he and Vesperra definitely share some defining traits, more the importance they place on their minds than anything. In another life, Vesperra and Sherlock could have been best friends.**

**Anyway, now that FF's fixed, PLEASE review both this chapter and the last! I want to know your thoughts! :D**


	58. Book 4: Chapter 12

**New chapter! :D I like this one a lot, and I hope you guys enjoy it too! Also, thanks for the new reviews; I'm nearly to 200. ^_^**

* * *

By Sunday's end, neither Vesperra nor Severus could have told you whether they had appreciated the lack of eventfulness or if it made everything just a bit worse. Of course, it _would_ only be a bit worse if at all, because the ability for either them to feel awkward or bored or in a bad mood was always drastically hindered during the time that they spent together, simply because they were together.

But there were two important things going on with the both of them, one of which it was easier to get out into the open than the other: Vesperra had waited until Sunday to tell him any of what she had _actually_ done in Hogsmeade instead of telling him the night before through the journals, for she had had a feeling that it would be easier if done face-to-face. Severus was, after all, a man with a frightening (though not necessarily dangerous, which she was pretty sure he tried purposely not to be) temper, and there was always the possibility that he would get angry and refuse to talk to her any longer—or at least until the next day, which would have defeated the purpose anyway.

Really, though, she hadn't told him much at all about the events of Saturday. She most certainly hadn't been going to tell him about Malfoy, as that was a situation where Severus's over-protectiveness wouldn't be convenient for her but instead annoying—so it was a pride thing. She didn't want to be in the position where she needed Severus to comfort her, to pity her, to protect her. Because, once again, this was her _own_ battle, and she was going to fight it (in the form of revenge) on her own. And, of course, Vesperra had _had_ to leave out what she had bought in the apothecary (though she had allowed him to know that she had visited it and looked around), because that was something he'd have been angry at her for. Sure, powdered narwhal horn wasn't exactly a Dark substance, but it could be used for Dark purposes, and Severus would surely have figured out what she'd wanted it for pretty quickly.

The only thing he knew the full truth about was her going into Honeydukes and meeting Nott, whom she had later abandoned because his presence had become annoying. Well, nearly the full truth, then. It hadn't been a complete lie… she had just left a couple things out. Like the more important reason for which she had abandoned him. And, like the friend he was, he had said (written, actually): _I thought you didn't mind Nott?_

Her reply to that had been: _**He's okay in small doses. But really, I get annoyed simply by spending too much time with any other person. Not including you, of course. Either way, I didn't want him to get the idea that we're actually friends.**_

And she still didn't. It wasn't so much that she didn't want Nott's feelings to get hurt, though, as it was that she didn't want him to become annoying all the time. Another friend besides Severus (and Damien, though he only half-counted, since he was her cousin) was something she didn't want nor think she could even handle.

Despite the obvious fact that they weren't friends and she didn't owe him anything, though, Vesperra had expected Nott to confront her sometime before or after dinner and ask her what the hell had happened. She had been prepared to answer with a vague "Something came up," but her assumption had been wrong, and he didn't even approach her throughout the evening.

But she'd supposed that that had been a good thing, since it gave her more time to talk to Severus and less to think about.

And so, on Sunday, it had been with only slight hesitation that Vesperra had told him the full story in his office, starting with "Listen, Severus… before you get angry at me, I did this for _you_." He had listened warily and with a raised eyebrow, and had responded with a soft "You _what_?" when she'd said that she had followed Lucius Malfoy and Karkaroff into the Hog's Head.

Severus hadn't seemed ready to let go of the fact that she had put not only her Hogsmeade privileges, but also her _life_, to an extent, in danger, and Vesperra hadn't expected him to. All that she had been able to offer in a reasonable argument was that everything had turned out fine (with both her safety and the information she now had), which was all that should have mattered, and also that she was intelligent enough to get herself out of things like that. And, of course, the fact that she had done that for him, and no bad intentions had been involved.

The part of the story where she jumped out of a third-story window was difficult to tell him with a straight face—which was why she hadn't. Vesperra had added another plead for him not to be angry with her or worried about her prior to it, and then said it with her face twisted into slight guilt.

Overall, it had been a tale about how she had used her intelligence (along with a bit of pure luck) to pull off a profoundly stupid idea, and her main worry the whole way through had been how disappointed Severus might have been in her for acting on a whim instead of thinking it through. But then again, thinking it through would have resulted in her losing time, discovering nothing, and having a harder time shaking off Nott.

On his side of things, though, Severus had honestly been quite impressed with everything she had pulled off, however much he didn't like that she had been in so much danger while doing it. He'd wanted to be the protective best friend and not let Vesperra be a part of any of the action while he went out there and did potentially life-threatening things, but the rational side of him told him that he shouldn't be such a hypocrite. Though there wasn't anything that could kill him yet, he really couldn't say with complete confidence that he would be the more miserable one if the other were to die.

But part of him had remained strangely angry throughout the entire day, even long after Vesperra's story had been over and they had discussed his thoughts about what she had done. It had been the fact that she had done exactly what he hated Potter so much for doing, and that was risking her life. The only difference was that Severus truly cared for her and protected her out of love rather than out of obligation (and love as well, but only indirectly)—well, if you didn't include the fact that she was much more intelligent and capable and mature than Potter.

In the end, he had found it impossible to remain any level of angry or even disappointed with her—and, strangely enough, he had found himself disliking Moody a bit less because of his laxness on Vesperra. If the man had decided to punish her, Severus knew that he would have been rather angry with Moody, despite the fact that he would have punished any other student for doing something like that.

What Vesperra hadn't known at all throughout the day (and which Severus could now appreciate the irony of) was what Severus's Saturday had consisted of. It might have been easier to tell her what Dumbledore had urged him to tell her if she hadn't come to him with news of two other ex-Death Eaters meeting up. By the sound of it, she had nearly heard Karkaroff mention _him_, and telling her about his own past with Voldemort seemed like a very stupid thing to do at this time.

_Coward,_ he had told himself. But he had also told himself that it wasn't cowardice so much as knowing that there had to be a right time for revealing a secret like that, and _now_ wasn't it.

And so, after Vesperra had relayed everything, the rest of the day had been almost entirely made up of discussing whatever was going on with the ex-Death Eaters. Because of his reluctance to tell her the truth, Severus had had to act like he didn't know what was going on—but he _had_ told her that the thing Lucius and Karkaroff had on their arms was the Dark Mark, which all Death Eaters had.

Essentially, however, the day had been lacking in events that neither of them were sure whether or not they needed. There had been so much going on inside their heads, and not enough outside of it if you didn't include talking. But talking at this point felt like thinking, as Severus and Vesperra had become so close that they were now practically one mind. With only the occasional break for food or tea, it was as though they were just inside a bubble, a bubble of thoughts about Karkaroff and Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort, and the Dark Mark… but both of them also had a corner of the bubble to themselves, both of which both of them were aware of.

And after Vesperra left that evening, continuing all throughout Monday—the day before the First Task, Severus had three things weighing very heavily on his mind: Lucius and Karkaroff, the inevitability of having to tell Vesperra everything, and the possible turning point in Potter's fate the next day.

* * *

"Well, where is he?"

For the first time since Saturday afternoon, Nott was talking to her—and apparently without any frustration or even a bit of a grudge. It wasn't uncommon for him to choose to sit next to her in classes instead of Blaise, who actually was his friend—but the fact that he had done so in Transfiguration, in which she actually tended to sit near the front, clearly meant that he wanted to talk to her and that it was important…. Or perhaps he just didn't care if the other Slytherins saw that he was voluntarily sitting with her but not taunting her.

But either way, he had muttered that question as soon as he had sat down, so talking to her was likely at least the main reason.

As the other Slytherins took their seats (some undoubtedly frowning at Nott as they passed) Vesperra bent down to grab her schoolbag and plopped it down on the desk in front of her, unzipping it and pulling out _Intermediate Transfiguration_ as well as some parchment, a quill, and ink. And while she did, she casually looked over to the boy sitting next to her, then raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Where's who?" Her tone made it somewhat obvious that she knew exactly what he was talking about. But Vesperra wasn't aiming to be subtle.

Nott let out something like a soft snort of laughter, and then started pulling out his textbook and parchment as well.

"Malfoy's not here," he said, "but Crabbe and Goyle are. So, especially by the sort of smug look you've got, I'm assuming you've got something to do with it. Where is he?"

For a second, her eyes narrowed and she frowned, but not necessarily in a bad way. "I look smug? I wasn't aware that I was smirking, and I'm usually pretty aware of my facial expressions." Her question was a serious rather than casual one, as she was always so sure of how she looked and came across to other people, and it was almost always on purpose. It was more panic than it was confusion.

"You weren't," Nott assured her, though seemingly satisfied with the fact that he'd proved himself correct by this reaction. "But… well, you just had this smug look about you, you know? With the way you were walking and the fact that your hands looked pretty relaxed—but that's not the point. You've practically admitted that you did something to Malfoy, but you haven't answered my question. _Where is he?_"

_Sounds like you've been paying pretty close attention to me,_ thought Vesperra, though unwilling to say it. She found it rather weird, but Nott always could have just been an observant person.

She also found herself a little impressed, since Nott had proved to be smarter than she thought. Not quite up to her own standards, but definitely higher than her expectations for most other people. So she couldn't help but smirk inwardly, and even outwardly just slightly.

"Probably still in the boy's bathroom on the fourth floor," she told him in a would-be-casual (but quiet, because McGonagall was walking into the room, and also because of Malfoy's girlfriend sitting not too far away) voice.

"Doing what?" asked Nott, apparently not sure as to whether he should smirk or frown.

But McGonagall officially started the lesson just then, first calling roll—on which Malfoy was the only one absent—and then telling them all that they should have parchment ready. Almost directly afterward, she went into their notes for the day. Vesperra gave Nott a _"Tell you later"_ sort of look before dipping her quill in ink and copying down everything McGonagall said.

About forty minutes of complicated Transfiguration rules and hand-cramps later, the class was to practice turning trimming shears into scorpions. Pansy and her friends had clearly been very unwilling to do this (judging by their squeaks of fear at the announcement), but McGonagall assured them that they wouldn't be harmed so long as they didn't put their hands near the scorpion. It wasn't, after all, going to jump up and sting them.

Vesperra had no qualms about it, though, so she started immediately once she was handed a small pair of shears that McGonagall had probably borrowed from the Herbology department. Or at least, she would have if Nott hadn't nudged her arm at the moment he had the chance to talk to her again.

"Alright, so _what_ is Malfoy doing in the bathroom," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "and why is he in there?"

"Well, he _was_ likely vomiting his guts out up until about thirty minutes ago," said Vesperra, absentmindedly clipping the air with her shears, "and the answer to the next question should be pretty obvious from that."

Without waiting for him to respond, she set down the shears and pulled her wand out from her sleeve. She pointed it at them and muttered the incantation McGonagall had taught them, and then watched the pointed end briefly curl up like a stinger and the other end start to become like claws before it fell back down to its original shape. But she wasn't disappointed, for she hadn't been focusing properly or really making much of an effort, as her conversation with Nott was still going on.

"So you cursed him?—with a vomiting curse?" He sounded glad.

"Obviously."

"And it—hey, wait a minute, didn't you use the same curse on him sometime during our first year? It was in the middle of Quirrell's class, right after you'd thrown up, I think."

_Hm. Didn't think he'd remember that._ "Technically, yes, it was the same curse—but an altered form of it. This one made him vomit for an extended amount of time instead of just right then and there. But like I said, it should have worn off about thirty minutes ago." Vesperra felt odd, knowing that she wouldn't even have told Severus this, but she knew that Nott wouldn't tell anyone or be angry with her. And while he wasn't in any way her _friend_, it was nice to have someone besides your own enemy who could appreciate the things you did.

Originally, she had wanted to do the same thing to Malfoy that he had done to her on Saturday—except it had actually been Crabbe or Goyle (she couldn't even remember which at this point) who had done it, and they were much stronger than her or Malfoy. If she had tried to clap him on the ears, it would definitely still hurt, but nowhere near as much as one of his cronies' beefy hands had hurt her. And if she had attempted the Imperius Curse (which she really had no doubts she could pull off, as she had very nearly pulled off much worse in the past) in order to have Crabbe or Goyle do it to their own master, there would be very bad repercussions if she were caught—worse than if she just cursed him normally. Not to mention that Severus would have been extremely angry with her—and that was almost more frightening than the prospect of facing a trial at the Wizengamot or going to Azkaban.

Besides, Muggle fighting wasn't really her style, and that wasn't completely because of her lack of muscle. Being a witch had its advantages, and she was going to use them rather than resort to flying fists and ear discombobulation.

And though she had experienced an extremely satisfying thrill by giving it up in favor of spying, she had still felt rather disappointed at the lack of vengeance she had gone to bed with on Saturday night. So she had devised a plan (which hadn't taken longer than twenty minutes or so) and waited until Monday to employ it—which meant aiming a curse she had altered a while back at Malfoy while he was walking down the corridor, causing him to cover his mouth with his hand and run away to the nearest bathroom. Luckily, no one had seen her do it, and Crabbe and Goyle had continued walking to class.

She attempted the spell they were supposed to be practicing once more after her explanation, this time focusing nearly as much as she normally would have, and ending up with a very shiny scorpion.

"Not quite, Miss D'Monicas," said the shrill voice of McGonagall, who had walked back up the aisle and stopped at their table, "but further than the rest of the class has gone." She held up her wand and tapped the silver, scuttling creature, and it transformed back into shears at once. "And you, Mr. Nott, haven't even started yet! Get practicing—perhaps Miss D'Monicas can help you, if you need it."

As she walked away to observe the progress so far of the other students, Nott glared at her. Vesperra didn't know whether it was because he was generally miffed about being told what to do or if he resented McGonagall suggesting _she_ help him, but she would have guessed the former, as Nott asked her for help all the time. But it could also have been the fact that some of the other Slytherins had sniggered a bit.

When he attempted it for the first time, all the shears did was grow legs, and the handle became slightly thicker. Frowning at it, he huffed and then sighed, "Eh, Transfiguration's never been my strong suit. Let's see yours, then—I'm sure it'll be perfect the third time."

Funnily enough, she was starting to feel less and less uncomfortable with the casual compliments from him. Perhaps it was because she was actually getting used to the fact that Nott genuinely admired her intelligence and that he was stating the compliments like a fact as obvious as "the grass is green" and not at all like he was purposely trying to flatter her.

Vesperra would have done it anyway without his urging, but she had been watching him try it. She made the correct motion with her wand and muttered the incantation a third time, concentrating extremely hard on the shears and completely blocking out the rest of the room for a moment.

Within a few seconds, the object in front of her transformed smoothly from a silver Herbology tool into a large, yellow scorpion. It looked very alive, its eyes shining and its stinger twitching, and it slowly scuttled back and forth around the table.

"Frankly, I thought it looked cooler the other way," said Nott, watching the scorpion. He and Vesperra shared a quick look, during which Vesperra allowed herself to smirk briefly. "And… anyway, if Malfoy should have stopped throwing up about a half an hour ago, then why hasn't he come back yet?"

"Oh, I don't think he'll be back for a while, if he even gets to this class at all," said Vesperra, lazily watching her scorpion.

"Er… why not?" Nott sounded like he almost didn't want to know.

"Because he doesn't have his trousers."

Before he even had the chance to don a confused expression or say more than "What…?", Vesperra had pulled her schoolbag off the ground again and into her lap, and at once she unzipped it and shifted a couple things to briefly lift out a pair of black trousers. She turned to him and smirked again, then stuffed them back into the bag once he'd had a chance to see them, re-zipping it shut and setting it on the floor.

"How the _hell_ did you get those?" said Nott, appearing to be having a hard time not laughing out loud or smiling too widely.

"Summoned them," shrugged Vesperra, though actually very pleased with herself. "I imagine they just slipped right off of him in the middle of a puking session…. Normally I wouldn't dare touch them, but if it means that at the least Malfoy'll have to hold his robes shut while he hobbles back to the dungeons in his underpants, then it's worth it."

"Lord, this is just… bloody perfect. I hope someone sees him trying to hurry down the corridors trouserless…. D'you think he'll tell any of the teachers?" Nott asked, suddenly sounding a little more serious.

"No, I don't, actually. I'm pretty sure he knows it was me, but he's also fully aware that it's revenge, so he's not going to do anything."

"Except more revenge," he warned.

"Yeah, but it's still between us. Neither of us are going to get any third parties involved. And besides… the First Task is tomorrow. He'll be too focused on that."

* * *

If it weren't for the fact that all the staff had to be present for all the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament (and also that his presence might have its benefits), Severus would have indulged in some serious drinking on Monday night. There was also his self-control as a factor, as well as his job, his reputation, and Vesperra. Basically all the logic in his life, fighting against the horribly overwhelming dread that could soon become depression and even hopelessness—if something went very wrong, that is. He tried to tell himself that the chances of Potter dying were low, as there would be trained wizards standing by to help if things got too dangerous, but that wasn't very effective against the congealed mess of emotions. There was just a part of him that refused to listen to reason; there always had been.

And _that_ was why Occlumency was the most helpful piece of his arsenal, along with the reason that he was very stiff and crueler than usual throughout his first lesson of the day: The second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had had it coming. The way Severus saw it, anyway, was that if Potter died later today, at least he'll have had the chance to make a couple small children cry before becoming utterly unsure of what to do with himself.

While Severus was working hard (and painfully) to keep his emotions in check and all hidden away under lock and key, Vesperra hardly saw the need to do so for herself. Anxiety (both good and bad) had been building up inside her from yesterday, and so she was a confused mix between Severus and the general population of Hogwarts. She was more or less apathetic at the prospect of Potter's death, leaning towards the _hoping desperately for _side, and any and all of her actual worries were Voldemort-related. But otherwise, she felt similar to the rest of the school and was at least somewhat excited to see whatever it was that the champions would have to face.

On Monday night, she had asked Severus once more what the First Task would be, since she knew the entire staff knew, but he, once again, had told her to wait and see for herself, just like the rest of the school.

And so, after a smaller lunch than usual (the anxiety had kept her from eating that much) on Tuesday, as everyone walked out of the Great Hall and down the Hogwarts grounds, she was just another one of the students. She was hardly even _Grease-perra_ anymore; there were far more important things than taunting her on even Malfoy's mind. About three-hundred people made their way down the sloping lawns and around the edge of the Forbidden Forest until the castle and the lake were both out of sight; a large, fenced-off arena-looking place was coming into sight all the while.

The excited conversation and laughter grew stronger and louder at this, and Vesperra was beginning to get a bit of a headache—at which she tried to shut out most of the noise around her and settle deeply into her mind cave until it was necessary to pay attention to things again. She knew that was slightly dangerous, as she could now only vaguely be aware of what she was doing, but just a short break from the noise would be worth it.

Meanwhile, Severus and the rest of the staff were already in the front of the stands, since they had all left soon after those who would be judging the tournament did. If not for the fact that Potter would be competing (both because he was underage and because he had already had so much happen to him at only fourteen years old), none of them would have been looking or feeling grave. Possibly a little anxious, but not grave. Severus wasn't the only one worried for Potter's life (though his reason was a lot different than theirs); the other staff members were all mostly silent and apparently trying to appear calm. None of them knew how to use Occlumency, though, so Severus was the only one _completely_ calm on the outside.

But on the inside, there was a storm raging and wrecking everything in sight. If he hadn't been mostly detached from feelings at the moment, he would have wanted to hyperventilate, to shake with the fear of losing the ability to redeem himself, to avenge Lily, to make his life worth something. That wouldn't be completely true, though—he had Vesperra. But the fear was still potentially overwhelming. _Thank Merlin for Occlumency._

With feelings mostly nonexistent, he could think about the First Task without much of a hindrance and with more logic. Even in a completely rational state, though, he was aware that there was hardly anything he could do if the situation called for it—and emotions weren't the only thing he was vacant of. While he didn't have to deal with the pain, his surroundings were growing vaguer by the minute. That was the only real disadvantage of Occlumency, but it was a large one, and it was why Severus didn't often use it for extended periods of time whilst in public.

But he would keep the wall up for a while, at least until the task officially started, and keep anything that wasn't purely factual bottled up and hidden deep beneath his skin, to the point where its screams were only soft cries in the distance. Severus was fully aware that they were somewhere in there and occasionally glanced in its direction, but he didn't want to free the poor soldier from captivity just yet. Not even the dramatically increasing volume in footsteps and chatter coming in through the opening in the fence could distract him enough to make the cage door fly open on its own.

Back down on the ground, Vesperra was crossing the threshold and looking around in near awe at the arena: She hadn't expected it to be this large. Though she was sure that it had merely been her perspective before, she could have sworn that it was bigger on the inside.

A sweeping look around at the stands and what was in the center told her that this wasn't just any arena—it was an _enclosure_. After that, she was quickly able to realize that the champions would be facing some kind of creature, indefinitely one very large and dangerous, judging by the rocky terrain and the gate on one end of the enclosure, around which there was only one row of seats, draped in gold and upon which the judges were sitting. The stands were set up very high above the ground, meaning that, whatever creature it was, it was a potential danger to the audience as well as the champions. Vesperra hoped to God that there was some sort of shield around the stands.

As she walked up the wooden stairs to her left, her eyes roved over the couple rows of staff members and lingered on Severus for a second or so. He was too far away and apparently too distracted to notice her looking at him, though.

Rather than staying with her fellow third year Slytherins, she continued walking until she was in a (at the moment) empty section of seats, far away from all of them. _Just because there's violence down there doesn't mean that Malfoy or anyone else won't get the urge to insult me once or twice, _she figured. Not that it would have been very easy to hear over all the screaming and gasping that would undoubtedly go on.

It felt strange not to be sitting with Severus, even though they weren't about to watch a Quidditch match. But the stands and the time of year and the general excitement made for a similar atmosphere, and Vesperra wanted to sit with her friend while witnessing this. It also felt unfair that she wasn't able to, that she wouldn't have anything to lean on when her neck started hurting or his hand to squeeze so tightly it might break when something shocking happened, or just her friend there so they could make back-and-forth snarky comments about what was going on. With another glance in his direction and the arrival of more students around her, though, she gave up that train of thought and decided that she could enjoy watching other people get injured (and possibly eaten) by herself.

And, on the far end of the stands, Severus felt strange for not being able to sit with Vesperra as well. He had had a chance to look at her for a moment before leaving the Great Hall some twenty minutes or so earlier, and he had hoped it would keep him calm. But now, as he allowed a few very basic emotions to return to him, he desperately wanted to sit with Vesperra, if only to keep himself calm. At least her presence would keep him constantly aware that not all would be lost if Potter failed to survive—and with a bit of hope.

Unlike his friend, he didn't attempt to give up that desire; he was more focused on keeping himself calm, because nearly the whole of Hogwarts (and some others who had come from all over Europe to watch) was seated, and the First Task was about to begin.

Unexpectedly and without introduction, a whistle soon sounded and the gate was lifted up to reveal a large gap in the fence, through which came something that not many people could have been ready for, whether they had known the details of the task beforehand or not—a dragon.

There seemed to be no one at all breathing as the huge, reptilian creature walked into the arena and stepped over a nest of eggs that seemed to be magically dragging themselves behind it, flexing its scaly wings. Its blue-gray scales shimmered briefly like a coin in the light, and Vesperra was pretty sure, from what she had read, that this was a Swedish Short-Snout. And honestly, she wasn't completely shocked at the fact that the First Task was dragons, as the possibility had been on her mind once she'd noticed the height of the stands and the terrain of the enclosure. If it hadn't been for the whistle, almost no one would have noticed Cedric Diggory walk in from the other end; but when they did, the crowd roared with excitement (or encouragement? Vesperra couldn't be sure, as she wasn't participating in the cheering).

It was easier to see just how large the Short-Snout was with Diggory now to compare it to. All Vesperra knew was that she would _not_ want to be face-to-face with that thing, not for any sort of thrill or satisfaction of beating a challenge. Nothing could have been worth that.

Diggory and the dragon both just stood there for a second, and Vesperra was unsure which of them was more reluctant to leave their spot. If the Short-Snout sensed that Diggory was an enemy, it (she?—_most likely,_ thought Vesperra) didn't intend to fight him off. _Oh, of course… it's going to protect its eggs, and Diggory's going to have to get one of the eggs._ And by the look of it, there was a golden one amongst the milky white, which was undoubtedly the champions' goal.

The yellow-clad champion, apparently having gotten over his fear or having formulated a plan in his head, darted forward, directly for the dragon. At the same time, someone new had entered the judges table—

"My apologies for my hiatus," said Ludo Bagman, who had just taken his seat and increased the volume of his voice with his wand. "Ooh—it looks like Cedric Diggory's already got a start on getting closer to that egg—ah, a bit not good, right there… could have started off better—nice duck, though…"

A jet of flame had shot out of the Short-Snout's nostrils and gone right over Diggory's head—it would have hit him full-on in the face if he hadn't ducked in time, and most of the crowd, aware of this, had screamed. Immediately, he ran back in the other direction and stopped to catch his breath once he was out of reach of the scaly beast—but then, as he started running again, the dragon seemed to decide that Diggory _was_ an immediate threat to the eggs and left her spot, lunging after him when he was close enough.

There was a collective gasp—Vesperra just held her breath—and Diggory did a tuck-and-roll to get out of the way of a second jet of flame. ("Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow," said Bagman over the noise of the stadium) Quickly regaining his stance, he went and ran around the edge of the enclosure again.

"What the hell's he doing?" yelled a boy near Vesperra, clearly voicing the thoughts of many, as others were yelling similar things. And it _did_ look like Diggory was just running aimlessly around, ready to get himself killed, but… _He's testing the waters…,_ thought Vesperra. _He's seeing how close he can get to the dragon without getting burnt…. But he's already nearly gotten killed twice, so he'd do better to switch to a new tactic unless he wants to snuff it in a fiery death within the next few minutes._

It was rhetorical advice, whatever it would have sounded like had she said it out loud. Vesperra was one to solve problems for her own satisfaction, not for others; she honestly couldn't care less about Diggory's life—or anyone else's, for that matter.

Down in the enclosure, it seemed like Diggory was trying to circle the dragon, almost as though he was making himself the dominant one so the dragon would back down—but Vesperra knew that wasn't what he was doing. The Short-Snout turned very quickly, doing a frighteningly large jump in a flap of her wings and snapping her long head. He cut diagonally toward the creature, making even Vesperra's heart leap—not in fear, but in thrill—and causing another gasp. In the middle of his dash (and just as the dragon was about to lash out at him again), he jerked his wand toward a rock in the arena, which had transformed into a Labrador Retriever seconds later.

"He's taking risks, this one!" yelled Bagman excitedly. And so far, Diggory's risk seemed to be working: Once the dog started running around, it caught the Short-Snout's attention and allowed Diggory a chance to run for the pile of eggs. With the dragon not terribly far away, it was still quite dangerous to attempt to seize one—but Vesperra supposed that this might be the only chance he got, and the faster he got the egg, the better it would be for his score.

However, the Labrador lost its appeal to the Short-Snout after hardly a few seconds, and with a flap of its wings that created a gust of wind strong enough to reach the audience, it turned right back around and headed straight for Diggory.

"_Clever_ move—pity it didn't work!" came Bagman's commentary from the judges' table, along with several screams from around the stands.

Though she was high up in the stands and couldn't even see the boy's face, Vesperra could practically hear what must have been going on in his mind as he picked up speed and only ran faster for the eggs: _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…_ But Diggory had been close enough to them already that he didn't take longer than a second or so to climb to the top of the rock that was next to the pile and grab the golden one. Obviously panicking, he scrambled to get out of there, almost slipping in the process, and jumped directly off the tall rock he was on so as to avoid the dragon that was tailing him. He was a split-second too late, though, and the Short-Snout shot another jet of fire in his direction; this time, it was much too close to him.

From her high position on the stands, Vesperra couldn't tell whether the fire had actually hit him or not, but it became clear that he had at least gotten grazed once he was out of the line of fire and still hurrying away from the dragon. At once, there was a deafening roar from all around her in the stands (mostly from he Hufflepuffs, she noticed). The most noise that Vesperra let out was a groan of discomfort at the near-migraine all the noise was giving her. As much as her own heart was pumping at the excitement, she truly could _not_ understand why people cheered or how anyone else could handle both the noise and straining their vocal chords.

The gate through which the Short-Snout had originally come in then opened, and in rushed several wizards, some of whom immediately started firing spells to subdue the dragon, and others throwing chains and straps over it to gain control. Strangely interested, Vesperra watched the dragon-tamers pull it out of the enclosure—but she surely couldn't have been even the slightest bit interested in working in that profession after she left Hogwarts… could she have?

"Very good indeed!" shouted Bagman once the cheers began to die down enough for him to be heard. "And now the marks from the judges!"

What had been raucous noise hardly seconds earlier soon faded to relative silence; everyone simply watched the judges think and waited for Diggory's scores.

When they finally came to a decision, it went in order from left to right, so Madame Maxime was first: She held her wand up into the air, and out of the tip shot a long silver ribbon that became an eight. Next was Barty Crouch, who gave him a seven.

Dumbledore then awarded him eight points, Ludo Bagman seven, and another eight from Karkaroff. It had turned out a rather even split between the judges, and Vesperra could understand why—but she _was_ a bit surprised that Karkaroff had actually given him a fair score. While she and Severus now practically knew for sure that he hadn't been the one to cast the Dark Mark into the sky at the Quidditch World Cup or put Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire (the evidence was all there, but alternate explanations were always possible, however unlikely), Karkaroff was still a slimy, greasy coward, and she would have imagined him to be completely unfair to everyone but his own school champion.

It all added up to thirty-eight points, which Vesperra supposed was pretty good out of fifty. The Hufflepuffs seemed to think so too, since they all roared with another few seconds of deafening cheers. Vesperra realized that Bagman wasn't shouting out the scores for a reason—and for the same reason that he was being rather vague in his commentating: It was to keep the other champions from hearing it and getting an unfair advantage.

In the next few seconds (during which the gate had remained open), a second dragon was brought in through the opening in the fence, along with another nest of eggs. This one, Vesperra recognized immediately—a Welsh Green. For a moment, she wondered if it was the same one that Damien had kept in a storeroom and shown her, but she quickly realized that it was impossible, as the dragon currently walking into the enclosure was full-grown. And then she vaguely wondered whether Damien and his father had had any luck with selling that dragon, or, if they hadn't, what they had done with it. Until the whistle sounded, of course.

"One down, three to go!" yelled Bagman. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Out from the champions' tent came Fleur Delacour, the tall, blonde Beauxbatons girl who Vesperra had only _really_ seen about once or twice before—when she wasn't surrounded by boys, anyway. She had always had this look about her that had made Vesperra aware that she was extremely attractive to most of the male population, but the usual shininess of her hair and confident look on her smooth face was gone, now, as she stepped out onto the rocky terrain. It was replaced with a trembling fear that took much of her beauty, and which was distinguishable even from the stands. Delacour stood stock-still and stared at the scaly beast, which was blowing smoke out of its nose, on the other end of the arena.

Several seconds passed in which Delacour seemed to be tentatively approaching the dragon, wondering, like Diggory, how close she could get to it before doing anything.

"Time's certainly going to catch up on her if she keeps this up," said Bagman, sounding mock-bored and possibly even a bit taunting. "Oh—right, that might be—ah, close one, there!"

Likely from anger at Ludo Bagman's commentary, Delacour gave up her "slow and easy" approach and jabbed her wand at the ground near the dragon. A mound of dirt exploded and shot dust into the Welsh Green's eyes, causing it to whip its tail around and nearly catch Delacour in the head—it was a good thing she had ducked in time.

"Oh, I'm not sure that was wise!" yelled Bagman gleefully over the dramatic "_Ooh_"s of the audience, some of whom seemed torn between screaming and laughing at Delacour's stupid move.

The next few minutes were filled with the Beauxbatons champion making several attempts to get close to the dragon, all of which failed and resulted in a collective gasp from the crowd and a somewhat jeering comment from Bagman. It was actually almost comical, with how little Delacour must have been prepared (or just how little she was magically skilled—in which case, Beauxbatons couldn't have taught very talented witches and wizards).

Severus wasn't relaxed at all during this round of the tournament, though. If a seventeen year-old girl, who apparently was the most intelligent and magically skilled (or at least the best combination of the two) from Beauxbatons, was having trouble even getting close to a Welsh Green (which was a species of dragon actually on the _lesser_ dangerous side), then what were the _bloody_ chances that Potter would survive once his turn came? The thought troubled him to the point where he was hardly thinking about the ulterior motive of whoever had put Potter's name in the goblet or trying to pick up on anything that might hint him towards discovering who it was. Would they be at the First Task to watch? _Probably,_ he thought, _if they want to see him get killed like they must have planned…. _But how would he even be able to tell who it was if they weren't using any magic to help further the process of Potter dying?

While Severus was being eaten away, Delacour's round went on; and no one else felt anything close to the dread inside of them, he was sure.

With another dash near the eggs and another crudely fired spell, Delacour had to dodge yet another swing of the dragon's tail—she was much too close to it.

"Oh… nearly!" shouted Bagman as the girl was practically knocked out cold by an enormous, scaly tail.

After another minute, Delacour seemed to steel herself (or to have come up with a plan), for her current steps toward the Welsh Green were much more confident than before. She made a complicated motion with her wand directly at the dragon, which was staring malevolently at her with its large, yellow, reptilian eyes, and out of the tip of her wand a pinkish sort of smoke appeared.

Floating up toward the dragon's face, the smoke shimmered in the air and became a translucent pink blob amongst the green and silvery-blonde. The dragon seemed to be confused or unsure how to respond to the foreign object (if it could even be called an _object_) at first, and soon just plain unable to respond at all. Its face surrounded by a pinkish haze, the dragon began to sway slightly and let its eyelids droop and wings relax, as though it was falling asleep. All the while, the Delacour girl was slowly getting closer to the dragon and skirting around it to get to the eggs—and the crowd was watching in what seemed like awe, holding their breath. Even Bagman was silent.

Vesperra didn't think the Welsh Green had quite gone to sleep, as its eyes weren't completely shut (looking like the way she often felt in the morning after less than five hours of sleep), but she made a mental note to try to learn whatever that charm was. Knowing how to put someone (or something) into a trance-like state could never hurt.

A few seconds later, when Delacour had made it to the pile of eggs in front of the dragon, the great beast let out a snore massive enough to echo a bit around the arena and make its wings unfurl very suddenly and loudly—and also to shoot an involuntary jet of fire out of its nostrils. Unfortunately for Delacour, the dragon's neck had been arched downward directly toward her when that happened, and the jet of fire ignited her skirt.

In panic, she tried to put out the fire, grab the golden egg, and maintain the enchantment on the Welsh Green all at once.

"Careful now…," said Bagman anxiously, "good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

The dragon had just half-woken from its trance and snapped its teeth at Delacour, from which she had only just barely escaped. Freeing her skirt of flame had apparently been her first priority, and so she had dropped to the ground as her first instinct to suffocate it and, by a lucky chance, had managed to roll out of the way of an enormous head. With a second thought on the matter, though, she put out the fire by shooting water at it from her wand—that made things quicker.

At the moment, she was extremely close to the dragon—close enough, in fact, to easily be eaten within seconds, and everyone in the stands was on their toes, whomever (or _what_ever) they were rooting for. Personally, Vesperra was rooting for the dragon.

But, as her title as Triwizard Champion should have proved, she turned out to be smart enough to get herself out of it: During the split second she was on her back and she was a moment away from being roasted alive, Delacour aimed her wand directly at the dragon's face and re-strengthened the enchantment she had had on it earlier. It gave her time to get to her feet and grab the golden egg on the top of the pile, and then distance herself from the half-conscious dragon.

While the majority of the crowd was in another lapse of cheers, Vesperra tried desperately to keep her eardrums from being ruptured and vaguely thought that it was pretty stupid for Delacour to have worn a skirt to the First Task, whether or not she had known she'd be fighting a dragon.

When it finally stopped again, everyone waited for the judges' decision. Delacour's scores turned out to be rather low: four from Crouch, eight from Maxime (_of course—favoritism…_), six from Dumbledore, five from Bagman, and… _two_ from Karkaroff.

On instinct (or actually, her natural inclination to want to see the pain of others), Vesperra quickly sought out the rest of the Beauxbatons students. They were a patch of powder-blue in the sea of black Hogwarts robes, so it wasn't difficult—and all of them were looking extremely indignant, a couple of them yelling what she was pretty sure were French profanities. Her eyes then flicked back to the judges, and she nearly smiled outwardly at the scandalized look on Madame Maxime's face; then to Severus, just because she wanted to see him… he wasn't showing any emotion in particular. Not that she had expected him to be.

Delacour herself looked very upset as well, but she didn't have much time to express it before she was ushered back through a gate in the enclosure fence that likely led to a sort of hospital wing.

Soon after the clapping died out (it hadn't lasted nearly as long as Diggory's), each of the heads of the crowd turned toward one end of the enclosure, where a third dragon was being led in. This one was a gleaming scarlet with a fringe of golden spikes around its face, and it had a distinctly longer (or perhaps just leaner) body than the others. And while it was only a dragon and therefore couldn't really be compared to humans in facial expressions or anything of the sort, there was a clever look about it—but that might have been because Vesperra had read that this particular species of dragon—the Chinese Fireball—was known for being clever.

Whether it was out of suspense, fear, or awe, the crowd went silent and waited with bated breath for the third round to start. Hardly seconds later, the whistle was blown again, and Bagman announced, "And here comes Mr. Krum!"

Slouching out into the arena, the Durmstrang champion was met with excited applause that he didn't acknowledge. He looked much more confident than Delacour had, his face as hard as always and his body perfectly still, not shaking. Like the others, he took a minute or so to take in his surroundings and plan exactly what was going to do—and Vesperra felt a sudden strange, yet burning desire to know what was going on inside Krum's head. He just always had this angry look about him, and he must have been very clever in order to have been chosen by the Goblet of Fire, so she naturally wanted to see what went on behind the face that was so much like hers and Severus's. She couldn't help but want to know if his mind worked similarly to hers.

Krum then walked straight for the dragon, but not particularly quickly or slowly—Vesperra guessed that he didn't want to take too long to get to the egg, but he also didn't want to scare the Fireball into reacting too quickly and trying to attack him before he even did something to deserve it. His firm stature and confidence was impressive, apparently even to the dragon, which was regarding him with what looked like interest rather than apprehension as he approached, inclining its head and stepping slightly (and probably unconsciously) away from its eggs.

Even though there really wasn't anything going on to merit interesting commentary, Bagman apparently found it necessary to make a short comment every half-minute or so, saying something like, "I hope he's got a good plan up his sleeve…." or "I think we'd all be glad for some quick action right about now…."

About twenty feet or so from the Fireball (which was a shorter distance than the span of the dragon's body, so it looked like he was closer from up in the crowd), Krum slowed to a stop and eased himself back a bit. It may or may not have been because of the small (compared to the dragon, at least), mushroom-shaped flames puffing from the dragon's nostrils at regular intervals. From what Vesperra knew, this generally occurred when a Chinese Fireball was agitated or angry—but it had been doing this for several seconds before Krum's pause.

And the pause wasn't long. With his slight step backwards to gain a balanced stance, Krum's wand arm snapped toward the beast and, with the thin piece of wood, aimed a curse at its face, which hit it directly in the eyes.

"Very daring!" came the shouting voice of Bagman amidst the scattered gasps, clearly glad to finally be able to comment on something exciting. One would have thought that he _missed_ Delacour's round, when he had been able to witness a lot of action—or comedy, whatever you wanted to call it.

There was a horrible, roaring shriek coming from the Fireball a moment later, and Vesperra knew at once that, while she had never heard one before, dragons' roars didn't sound like that normally—that was a shriek of _pain_. It would have been pitiful if the thing emitting it wasn't a twenty-five foot long lizard with wings that could roast anything it wanted in a second.

Far down the rows of seats from Vesperra, Severus's eyes widened just a bit as he recognized the curse Krum had used and had an involuntary flashback to three years ago, when he had used precisely the same curse against an animal about three times his height. Except that beast hadn't been able to breathe fire… That was the Conjunctivitis Curse, he was sure, and he knew that it must have caused a great deal of pain in the dragon's eyes. He remembered using it to get a giant, three-headed dog to drop him, and he remembered having a bloody, gnarled leg for a few days before finally relenting and allowing Filch to bandage up the wound. It didn't matter much to him anymore (though it didn't do much good for him to remember the first time Potter had seen him in a physically vulnerable state), and so he didn't dwell on the memory. Besides, the flames shooting straight from the throat of a dragon in front of him was a bit too mesmerizing to let him think about much else.

In its agony, the Fireball threw its head back—likely on reflex—and thrashed it, its jaw open wide and showing long, glittering fangs the size of daggers through the huge, mushroom-like flame spouting from its throat and up into the air, higher than the stands. Though it was much too far away from the edges of the stands (and from her side of the arena, for that matter), Vesperra unconsciously leaned back an inch in irrational fear of being hit by the flames, as they were going thirty feet in all directions.

She was too focused on the dragon's flailing for several seconds, however, to notice Krum making a diagonal dash around the creature for the eggs. He had to jump back a couple times so as to avoid being squashed by a large, scaly tail or foot, as the Fireball was thrashing not only its head—but its whole body, and was trampling everything in the immediate area without control and without even seeing what it was doing. In the process, it was actually stomping on a lot of its own eggs, at which Vesperra was sure Hagrid would feel deeply disappointed (if not thoroughly saddened) if he was watching. But to her and all the rest of anyone who had any sense, seeing baby dragons prevented from ever existing was, for the most part, a good thing. No need to have _more_ man-eating beasts in the world.

"That's some nerve he's showing—" Krum made a chance jump over the flailing leg of the dragon (which would have caught him in the legs and possibly thrown him across the enclosure otherwise) and carefully yet quickly climbed over the pile of eggs. "—and—yes, he's got the egg!"

The ensuing applause was about as big (and painful to Vesperra's already weakened eardrums) as Diggory's had been, if not more. Of course, Krum had plenty of people from Hogwarts, many of whom were fans of him on principle just because of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team, clapping and whooping and stomping their feet for him, as well as his fellow Durmstrang students.

As the dragon tamers returned and subdued the Chinese Fireball to get it out of the arena, the five judges up at their gold-draped seats decided on the scores. Vesperra wasn't surprised by any of it: Overall Krum was awarded forty points, the only perfect score of which was from his own Headmaster. She (and many others, surely) found that extremely biased and unfair, as the champions weren't supposed to cause any damage to the real eggs and therefore should at least have had a point or two off, no matter how clever Krum's approach had been.

And then, Vesperra felt surprised at her own reaction, as she didn't care (or at least didn't _want_ to care) about how fairly the champions were scored; but she supposed that she _did_, against her usual apathy towards things like this, want Hogwarts to win the tournament. It might have been her dislike for Karkaroff adding to it as well, though.

When the number-shaped ribbons were completely gone from the air and the ground was void of dragon and man, a soft, yet almost suffocating silence fell over the crowd. Rather than uncomfortable, it was a suspenseful, thrilling silence, and Vesperra briefly felt dizzy, as though her seat was tilting her backward for a few seconds. The excitement and anxiety and all the other feelings bound to be present in plenty of people were thick in the air and almost unbearable.

Unbearable in more than one sense: During the second or so that all was still and nothing was moving in or out of the enclosure, Severus was bombarded with a torrent of memories and emotions and thoughts so dreadful they could have killed him if he allowed them to wriggle themselves completely inside of his mind. Potter was next. It was extremely painful to be aware that you would either completely break or experience immense relief in no more than fifteen minutes' time, and that the former was the more likely of the two.

This was the time that Severus wanted Vesperra next to him more than anything, just so he could hold onto her; and she would keep his mind and soul on the ground. And if he could have maneuvered through the stands to get to her, he would have, because his insides were just screaming and he didn't care about any other consequences right now. It was similar to the way he had felt the minute or so after Potter's name had originally been pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and his fate decided (like Sherlock Holmes, falling off the Reichenbach…), except for the fact that he had to force himself to hold on, to at least wait until it actually happened. While that part of him seemed to be feeling like Potter was already dead, another part refused to believe this was happening at all.

A second later, at the scraping noise of claws against rock, Severus pulled back his feelings the best he could without detaching himself too much from the scene, and returned his attention to the enclosure.

The thoughts that went through the minds of both Severus and Vesperra were, for several moments, completely unintelligible. The sight of what was now being brought in caused too much shock for even repeated expletives to be enough—and it seemed to be that way for most of the people in the crowd.

Having seen more live dragons in one day than she had ever expected to (or wanted to) see in her entire life, Vesperra had actually started to appreciate the strange sort of beauty of them—but _this _one was just plain frightening. Twice as long as any of the other dragons, it was coal-black, with its scales glinting like pieces of armor. Any abstract sense of beauty it might have had was diminished by its monstrous size and undeniably evil stare, not to mention the bronze horns protruding from its head and the similarly threatening spikes on its tail—which gave it its name: _The Hungarian Horntail_.

Vesperra wasn't even the one facing it, and she found herself unable to breathe for a moment. As did Severus, though she was unaware of it; he also found himself wanting to vomit with the knowledge that Potter's dragon was the most dangerous—not only out of those four, but out of all known dragon species. That was just plain cruel irony, and he was now ten times more confident that Potter was going to be eaten.

_This is it, isn't it?_ thought a small part of him—the one that was simply bitter at the Universe and nothing else. The one that was hiding in the corner of his mind and was barely heard by the rest of him. _Over three years of my life devoted to protecting the brat, and now he's about to meet his end—not even by Voldemort himself, but by a bloody _dragon_…. And now I've got nothing left to do but go mad and hope Vesperra doesn't mind the sudden personality change._

Everyone in the stands must have now been left without a doubt that Potter was going to die, and the vast majority seemed glad at that, for they began roaring with raucous cheers again once the whistle was blown. Severus felt like the whistle was not only signaling Potter's doom, but his own—like they were both being sentenced to death, except his was a much worse death. Because he had to go on living afterwards.

"And finally, here comes Potter!" yelled Bagman in excitement—which was strange, as Vesperra didn't think the man _wanted_ Potter to die.

Slowly, Potter walked out into the enclosure to the encouraging (encouraging the dragon, for most of them) cheers of the crowd. The Horntail eyed him with her large, yellow eyes, crouched over her clutch of eggs. Her wings were half-furled in a ready-to-pounce stance, and her tail was thrashing from side to side, leaving yard-long and foot-deep gouge marks in the rock. Vesperra was automatically hit with thoughts of what that tail would do to Potter's face.

Before mob mentality managed to take over and convert her to being fully on the dragon's side (when before, she had simply been apathetic about whether Potter lived or died), however, Potter raised up his wand and shouted, loud enough for everyone in the stands to be able to hear:

"_Accio Firebolt!_"

Whatever noise the hundreds of students had been making before stopped at once, for no one had expected Potter to do this, and even the least developed of minds were working out exactly what he planned to do. And then, quickly and simultaneously, the same breathless thought arrived in both Vesperra and Severus's minds, though with very different feelings accompanying it: _Merlin, Potter might just survive this._

Both of them were sure that the other was thinking something of the sort, but neither of them wanted to get their hopes up (or down, in Vesperra's case) just yet. Although, they—along with the rest of Hogwarts—knew that Potter was an extremely talented flyer, and with a _Firebolt_… well, he could go just about as fast as any dragon, even a Hungarian Horntail.

The next several seconds were thick with silence and anxiety, and Vesperra could have sworn she could hear all of her fellow Slytherins, especially Malfoy, screaming internally. While the change in likeliness of Potter beating the dragon did give her a certain amount of disappointment, the mere fact that a good number of the people she hated would all be furious was enough to make her almost glad about it.

Soon, the silence was broken by a sort of high-pitched, air-whipping noise in the distance, but Vesperra didn't have to look up; a broom was zooming through the air from the direction of the castle and down into the enclosure, where it then stopped in midair next to Potter.

"What's that—a broom? Potter's definitely thought outside the box, hasn't he?" shouted Bagman as Potter threw a leg over his broom and kicked off.

Within two seconds, he had soared so high up above the crowd that Vesperra hardly got a glimpse of a blur before he was just a speck in the sky, and there was a collective, impressed gasp, spattered with screams and whoops from who could only have been Gryffindors. And then he dived back down—directly for the dragon, Vesperra was sure... The Horntail was watching him as well, moving her head to follow him and looking more sinister and deadly than ever; Severus felt his heart plummet—

As the blur that was Potter grew closer to the ground, a jet of fire blew from the Horntail's mouth, this one larger than any of the other dragons'—at least forty feet. For a second, Vesperra and Severus and many others thought that he had been roasted alive, but they had hardly had the chance to feel any sort of excitement or dread before they realized that Potter had actually pulled out of the dive in time, expertly swerving sideways.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman over the shrieks and gasps. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Vesperra had a feeling that Krum would have resented it.

Potter then flew high again, going in a circle and causing the Horntail to continually revolve its head around on its long neck in order to follow his progress. He dived again, and he narrowly missed a second deadly jet of fire from the dragon, which had only just opened its mouth as he had plummeted. But the creature's spiked tail whipped up and met him instead—Vesperra held her breath and Severus prepared to die inside—but just on the shoulder. Though it had likely only been a graze, it was plainly obvious to the crowd because of the blood flying suddenly to the ground, and there were scattered screams as well as groans of people not wanting to imagine such pain. Vesperra wasn't one of those people, as she had already known _real_ pain in her life, which was far worse than a spike in the shoulder.

"Lord—_that_ could not have felt good!"

In what appeared to be a diversionary tactic, Potter began flying back and forth over the Horntail, just close enough that he posed an immediate threat to her precious eggs. On his broom, he swung like a slowly rising pendulum, and the dragon's long neck extended as he flew higher, swaying along with him…. And then it let out a roar of frustration and swatted its tail into the air, missing him, then shot fire into the air, once again missing him….

Severus's shoulders and jaw relaxed a considerable amount, his heart's thuds calming down.

"Is he doing what I think he's doing?" Bagman was yelling. "I think he is, the clever little bugger!"

If McGonagall had been at the judges' seats, Vesperra was sure she would have grabbed Bagman's wand out of his hand, like she used to do with Lee Jordan at Quidditch matches. The thought would have made her smirk inwardly if Potter hadn't managed to entice the Horntail further in the next second, making it rear up from its writhing state and completely unfurl its massive wings.

At once, Potter dived for the umpteenth time, but now going lower and swooping to grab the golden egg out of what had, moments previous, been in the Horntail's clutches. The noise of the crowd suddenly rose drastically in octaves, and Vesperra nearly fell out of her seat from both the shock and the feeling that her head might cave in from the cheering—but mostly because of the latter.

"Look at that!" shouted Bagman. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Vesperra managed a few half-hearted claps before trying to get used to the throbbing of her eardrums, all the while instinctually looking to Severus's area of the stands, even though she could hardly see him.

It was a relief so strong for him that it was almost painful. To be so utterly convinced that your life was going to be ruined, and then have Potter do the impossible and prove that wrong… oh, it was enough to make him want to cry out. At the moment, Severus thought nothing of the inevitability of Potter becoming more famous than ever, nor of his flying skills that rivaled his father's, nor even of how the boy couldn't possibly have come up with a plan so clever on his own…. All that was in his mind was _relief_, just plain relief that Potter was alive, that he could still avenge Lily, that it_ wasn't over yet_.

He was nearly overcome with the desire to hug Vesperra in celebration—until he realized that she was nowhere near him. Severus still had to exert a lot of self-control, though, to keep from slumping forward with all the emotions just coming out—or from doing much more than bringing his hands together a few times, really.

Vesperra, meanwhile, was still trying to fathom how Potter could have beaten the odds _so_ many times: how the youngest and least skilled champion could have fought the most dangerous species of dragon in existence and _lived_. Right now, she didn't care about the Horntail being subdued and removed from the enclosure, or the upcoming scores—her mind was reeling over all of this.

As far as how she felt in particular about Potter having survived, Vesperra supposed that she ought to be glad he was alive. Because without him alive and walking around Hogwarts, Malfoy would have nothing but _her_ to occupy his time and effort.

* * *

**I'm really happy about this chapter for two reasons: I finally got to write about the First Task, and that this means I can finally get to the Yule Ball. Oh, and also that Vesperra summoned Malfoy's trousers right off of him.**

**In other news, remember how I told you guys that my dad died from a lung disease? Well, the story got pretty huge on several news channels, and now my mom's going to be on a medical talkshow. So next week, I and my mom and siblings are all going to L.A. for three days. Don't worry, I'll still be able to write while I'm there... and it might actually take less time, really. Just thought that I'd share.**

**Anyway, as usual... PLEASE review, tell me what you thought about this chapter, what you think is going to happen, etc.! :D**


	59. Book 4: Chapter 13

**I actually finished writing and editing this chapter on Wednesday, but I unfortunately wasn't able to get on the internet at all while in L.A. I just got back, and this is, of course, the very first thing I'm doing. Even though I have school tomorrow. Good to know I've got my priorities straight. ;D**

* * *

All thoughts of consequences aside, Severus decided to have a celebratory glass of Firewhiskey when he returned to his office that evening. Relief had been clouding his mind so much after Potter had gotten the egg an hour or so earlier that he truly hadn't cared (or even had the capacity to care) about anything else, and he still didn't. But that relief also made him, to a point, light-headed, and so he had to try hard not to appear dizzy on the way back to the castle or during dinner—though he was still hardly aware of what he was doing.

There couldn't be a single person in Hogwarts more relieved than him that Potter was alive—not Dumbledore, not Granger, not Weasley… not even Potter himself. And while relief didn't necessarily mean happiness (especially not in Severus's case, when his ambivalence between wishing the worst for James Potter's son and wanting to protect Lily Evans's son was actually physically painful), he felt a strange sense of giddiness accompany it this time.

The only thing that brought him the smallest bit of disappointment was that this was a time he could not share with Vesperra, for she wouldn't share his feelings on the matter or even understand why he was so immensely glad. Besides—there were classes tomorrow. And so, it was with a knot of guilt and self-resent for not having told her anything yet that he shut the door of his office after returning from the Great Hall, headed for the stash of Firewhiskey in his room (which was only two bottles), and poured himself a small glass. Before drinking any, he closed the bottle and returned it to its spot, as he only intended to drink a little and definitely not enough to get drunk. No amount of relief would make him do something so stupid.

Still, however, like any other night, Severus wanted to talk to his friend (especially after the events of that day), and so he reached for the journal inside his robe pockets as he took the first sip of Firewhiskey, which went searing down his throat in a way that was both painful and extremely pleasurable. His giddy relief turned calm, and he suddenly found himself more relaxed and more aware of reality than before—he was no longer feeling everything at intervals, but smoothly.

With one hand, he set the journal down on his desk (at which he had just sat down) and opened the latch, letting it fall open, but then he had to set down the glass of Firewhiskey in order to grab a quill and start writing, since he was right-handed.

* * *

_Busy?_

_ **Nope. And even if I was, I would lie so that I could talk to you anyway, since today was a bit eventful.**_

_ I'm going to ignore the feeling that you just lied about being busy, then, because there's some things I should be grading but I'm still opting to talk to you instead. _

_ **Good. Well, to go the easy route of starting the conversation, I honestly still can't believe that Potter actually survived. Or, even more, that he tied with Krum for first place. You realize what this means, don't you?**_

_ I'm pretty sure that I do, but I want to hear your prediction first just to see how much you figured out on your own. Even at the expense of possibly making myself sound stupid._

_ **It's just you and me here, and I would never think that you're stupid. But what I'm pretty sure is going to happen is that Potter's fame will go from being the whole school hating him to nearly everyone loving him, now that they've seen what he can do. He's not just 'the famous Boy-Who-Lived whose name came out of the Goblet of Fire just because everything happens to him or because he wants to be more famous' to them anymore. For most of them, he's now a real champion in their eyes, even better than Diggory. Hell, even Diggory's got to respect him now, since I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for Hufflepuffs to hold a grudge for too long. Well, the Slytherins, of course, are still furious. A lot of them don't actually believe that Potter put his name in by himself, but they're still going to hate him even worse. And this has already started to happen, based on what I saw and heard at dinner. All the Slytherins, especially Malfoy, are agreeing that what Potter did to get the egg was just a fluke and not skill.**_

_ My thoughts exactly. I could probably think of more, but to be honest, I'm still a bit dazed and finding it difficult to get over the shock of the First Task._

_ **As is pretty much everyone else in the school. Malfoy's having a hard time getting over the fact that Potter's not dead…. You should have seen his face. It was hilarious.**_

Vesperra neglected to mention that the anger of the other fourth year Slytherins had caused them all to bully her worse that usual throughout dinner, half because of her pride and half because she was sure Severus had already guessed that much.

_I'd like to have seen it… but I imagine that this is going to lead to Malfoy trying to sabotage things or at least get some sort of revenge on Potter in a roundabout way, and that's not going to look nice. Are you angry that Potter survived?_

_ **Disappointed to a point, yes, but not exactly angry. If he was dead, who would Malfoy and the others have to pick on but me? But I am angry because of how easily he beat the Hungarian Horntail. He's the youngest champion, but he still managed to beat the most dangerous species of dragon in existence. How does that make sense?**_

_ It only makes sense because he happens to have amazing flying skills, and that gave him an advantage that even the professional Quidditch player didn't think to use. Although, I'm pretty sure that someone else must have given him the idea to do that. I don't believe that Potter could have come up with such a cleverly simple idea on his own._

_ **Saying that his win was a fluke and had nothing to do with any real intelligence or real magical skills will only make us feel better about all of this, but it's not going to make any difference in what the rest of the school thinks of him, or the fact that he's survived. Whoever put his name in the goblet is probably furious right now. Do you have any solid proof that'll push us in any one direction yet?**_

_ I don't have solid proof, but I have a couple ideas. I think we may have to reconsider Karkaroff, because he was thoroughly angry when Potter did well with his dragon. Though it's more likely that he simply wanted his own champion to win, we can never be too sure._

_ **If that were true, then everything Karkaroff said to Lucius Malfoy would have been completely set up.**_

_ There's always the possibility that Karkaroff was doing that to see how Malfoy would react._

_ **Listen, I'm not trying to just debunk your theory, especially since you're the older and more experienced one here, but I was there, and I'm the one who saw it all. No one can fake fear that well. Especially not someone like Karkaroff, who can't even smile convincingly.**_

_ And I agree with you, but I still wouldn't rule him out. Remember what happened the last three times we ruled things out just because they seemed extremely unlikely?_

_ **Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. But when we start expecting the unexpected, the expected will start to happen. We're never going to win that way.**_

_ It's not so much as doing that as being open-minded. We're in a time where there's few people you can trust for sure. For me, that's you, Dumbledore, and Moody. _

_ **And for me, that's just you and myself. And my own brain is telling me that it doesn't make sense for Karkaroff to be the one who's helping Voldemort, but I've long accepted that hardly anything at Hogwarts makes sense, so I suppose I'm not going to completely rule him out either. Speaking of which, though, I think we have a reason to suspect Ludo Bagman more.**_

_ I know. I was about to mention that, actually. As someone who works in the Ministry of Magic, he wouldn't have given Potter a perfect score when he clearly didn't deserve it. If he didn't take points away from Potter for a cut on his shoulder, then he shouldn't have taken points from Krum for getting the eggs stomped on, or from Cedric for getting burnt—well, perhaps it was from him having a poorly executed plan. But I still don't think that Bagman is just biased in favor of Hogwarts. He was rooting for Potter specifically._

_ **It could always be that Bagman just wants him to win because he's the Boy-Who-Lived, but that would mean that he wants Potter to be more famous than he already is. I have no idea what motive anyone would have for doing that, but then again, I have no idea how normal people's minds work, so I can't act like I'm an expert on that. Either way, we also know that it has nothing to do with pity for Potter, because the scores have nothing to do with whether or not he survives. In fact, I wouldn't say that Bagman feels sorry for Potter at all, or even views all this as a bad thing.**_

_ You know what, this makes me think even more that he's got a bet on Potter. From what I know of him after his Quidditch days, he definitely is the betting sort of man. _

_ **So basically, Bagman is either the sort of person who risks a child's life to make some money, or the sort who gets excited at a child being entered in a dangerous tournament because it means he might make some money. Whichever it is, his intentions aren't good and he's still a horrible person. **_

Severus agreed to that, and both he and Vesperra felt that, according to their own twisted morals and somewhat hypocrisy, they were better people than Bagman was. Soon, Severus set his empty glass aside, as he had finished it and no longer felt the need for any more. His relief wasn't gone, but he was much more aware of other emotions now that it was all over, and he was able to focus on the more important stuff—theories, the danger Potter was still in if it _wasn't _Bagman, and such. He also felt the residual anger that he nearly always felt where Potter was concerned and the grudge against the boy's father return to him, and it suddenly felt like a very normal evening.

When it was nearing midnight, Severus was surprised to see how much time had passed without him realizing it, and he reluctantly told Vesperra that they both ought to be getting to bed. He felt strange in mentioning that she had to attend lessons in the morning, though, because during their conversation he had practically forgotten that she was a child—for the umpteenth time. Even when they were talking in his office, it was always difficult to keep in mind that Vesperra was only fourteen.

With that in mind, he decided that if Potter could beat a dragon, even with someone else's help, then she indefinitely would have been able to as well. Severus went to sleep feeling extremely grateful for whoever had given Potter that idea, even if it had been Bagman.

Vesperra's argument about Karkaroff stuck in Severus's head, partly because he was impressed with her thought process (as always) and partly because the man was one of two people he had firm grounds for suspecting, and the other one wasn't going to be at Hogwarts again until the Second Task, which wasn't for a while. What his friend didn't know was that he had spoken to Karkaroff a couple times this year and seen fear on his face as well. If the man _was_ faking, it was very convincing.

Honestly, Severus completely agreed with Vesperra. As much as ruling unlikely things out had blown up in their faces in the past, he could not truly bring himself to believe that it was possible for such a cowardly man, the man who had come crying to both him and Lucius about his Dark Mark, to be secretly working for the not-yet-human Voldemort and trying to bring him back. There was a reason that Karkaroff wasn't in Azkaban right now, and that was because he had betrayed his former master and given the Ministry names of Death Eaters. He knew that Voldemort would be after him once he regained power.

So, having known this the whole time, why had Severus ever considered Karkaroff as a possibility? _Because he's practically my only choice,_ he would often think bitterly in reply to his own question whenever he caught himself thinking deeply about Karkaroff's possible motives. _And because no matter what, there's always a chance, if only the tiniest. After all, no one would guess for one second that I'm actually out to save Potter's life because otherwise my own would be pointless._

But Severus was a master of Occlumency, and Karkaroff's skills in that area, if any, were very little. He supposed another large part of it was that he simply wanted to feel like he was on the right track, even if he was sure that he was getting nothing.

Throughout the rest of the week after Tuesday, the relief from his life _not_ being torn apart at the seams by a dragon slowly dissipated, and he didn't feel the pain of near-loss every time he so much as glanced at Potter anymore. Severus fell back into his usual distinctively grumpy (if that was a good word for it) self, his mind constantly focusing on either Vesperra, Voldemort, or potion-making. And Lily, occasionally, but lately he was trying not to think so much of her, as those memories were bringing him more pain than ever these days.

* * *

Wednesday onward was sorely lacking in events, and now, Severus could be sure that he preferred this. All he wanted after the First Task was a few weeks of just a calm, relatively boring life. Or at least, it seemed that it was going to be that way until Sunday, when the monotony of marking essay after essay (the current stack was that of Slytherins', so he wasn't taking the time to analyze them as much and he hardly marked them) was broken by a stinging pain on his left inner forearm, causing his elbow to jerk upward involuntarily and hit an ink bottle, which proceeded to break and leak ink all over the left side of his desk.

A couple profanities quickly ran through his mind, both for the fact that his Dark Mark had stung again and because an inky mess was pooling on his desk. Ignoring the long-term problem at first, he pulled his wand out of his robe pocket immediately and flicked it at the shattered ink bottle, fixing it, and then siphoning all the ink off the wood and returning it to the bottle.

At that, he set his quill down next to the stack of papers in front of him, and then stuck out his left arm so that he could pull the sleeve up. Before Severus could even see the Dark Mark, he felt a wave of dread come over him as well as one of self-loathing—he hated this. He felt like a Death Eater again, like he was being sucked back into that horrible life that had been the worst mistake of the century, like he was still working for the man—no, not a man, the _monster_—who had killed Lily Evans…. What was worse was that he knew he was going to have to pretend to do exactly that in who knows how long. Could be a few months; could be a year. He supposed the time could be gauged by how quickly the Dark Mark was becoming clear, but that sort of thing couldn't really be calculated.

Any other time, he would have avoided thinking about that horrible inevitability, but it was currently just as plain and clear in front of him as the Dark Mark on his arm. When he had moved his sleeve up to his elbow and could see the whole thing, he felt disgust, both at himself and the Universe, twist in his stomach. It was much clearer than before (in a relative sense), and it had increased more than it had the last time. Severus realized, with another pang of disgust and pain, that the sting had been more painful than before as well.

Did it mean anything different this time, because it had been stronger? Had there been some monumental breakthrough with Voldemort and Wormtail, wherever they were?—or was the increase in the clarity of the Death Eaters' Dark Marks simply exponential?

If his last guess was correct, then it would only get worse from there. The stings would come more and more often and become more and more painful. It wouldn't be long until it was impossible to hide from Vesperra—and Severus did _not_ want it to come out like that: her questioning why his arm had jerked, him pulling up his sleeve—no, he couldn't let that happen. When he did tell her, it would be with dignity, and it would be before she had the chance to find out on her own.

But what if Malfoy or some other Slytherin with an ex-Death Eater parent mentioned it offhandedly when she was around? Merlin, _that _would not be good…. Severus pictured another incident like the one when Vesperra had discovered that the Lestranges had been Death Eaters, except with her throwing something larger and heavier at him instead. Or worse—throwing nothing at all and just walking out.

Admittedly (not that it was difficult at all to admit to himself), Severus feared Vesperra's reaction if she were to find out from anyone other than him more than he feared what was to come when Voldemort returned. He couldn't quite place whether it was a fear of her anger and what she might do or a fear of the loss of her trust, though.

Trying not to worry about that right now, Severus focused on the problem at hand. He knew that, about a mile or so away, Karkaroff was (most likely) in his ship, contemplating his Dark Mark as well. Undoubtedly there were plenty of different thoughts running through his mind, though—if it was safe to flee, if he should do so now or later…. And Severus also knew that the man would attempt to question him again when he could.

So, amongst his own worries concerning the imminent return of Voldemort and thoughts of Vesperra were plans for avoiding confrontation with Karkaroff. Avoiding any involvement with that man was not only because he was an annoyance, but also for his own safety. He couldn't be involved with the chief coward of the Dark Lord's inner circle if he was going to stay alive and able to play his part to protect Potter.

* * *

Hogwarts was almost in more of a frenzy after the First Task than they had been prior to it. Or, the students were, at least. As expected, nearly all Vesperra heard throughout the last week of November were recounts of the fights against the dragons; and quite frankly, they were rather boring after a couple times. They had been boring the first time, too.

_Yes, we all bloody _saw_ what happened,_ Vesperra often thought while passing an animatedly chatting group of people in the corridors or the Great Hall. _Unless you're going to add some original insight or psychoanalyze something, shut the bloody hell up._ She could somewhat understand why people felt the need to discuss it the first day afterward, as even she was still in a bit of shock, but when it got beyond that, she really couldn't understand it at all. Repetition didn't necessarily seem pointless to her, considering how often she and Severus did it when they couldn't add something new to theories—but _that_ was always in an attempt to think of something else. The champions' great victories were hardly as important.

That was mainly the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, though. As the only ones in Hogwarts who still hated Potter, the Slytherins' conversations were centered around complaining that Potter had survived, which Vesperra could tolerate slightly more than talk about the task in general. At least most of the time she was surrounded by that, she was sitting down, so it was perfectly safe for her to hide inside her mind-cave and hardly pay attention to the world around her. Especially because their anger towards Potter always turned to senseless hatred for her, and at meals the insults were thrown at her as carelessly as pieces of lint.

Vesperra wasn't sure whom Malfoy was paying more attention to (that was the nice way of saying it) these days—her or Potter. Malfoy came to breakfast one morning with a hand-drawn, animated picture of Potter on a broom being roasted by the Hungarian Horntail, which he passed around to the sniggering Slytherins—and to which Vesperra said, after giving one look at it, "You should stick to buttons." The next day, she was yanked to the ground by her schoolbag by Goyle on the way to Herbology, and landed in fresh mud that Professor Sprout had to clean off of her with her wand. She wasn't sure if that had been revenge or just plain bullying, but it seemed that Malfoy was trying to make it an even split between his interests.

Meanwhile, word went around that each of the golden eggs the champions had gotten in the First Task contained a clue for what the Second Task was going to be. When asked eagerly by the Slytherins whether he had figured it out yet, Krum never answered, but instead glared for a few seconds before returning his attention to his plate. He didn't seem to be as angry about tying with Potter as Karkaroff was—in fact, Vesperra could hardly tell whether he was angry at all. Like her, he almost always looked angry. At that thought, she figured that she might get along with him should he ever decide to talk to her.

As for the other champions, Potter and Diggory's fame was tantamount to Krum's, and a lot of the girls spent their time fangirling over the two of them like they were actual celebrities. It was for this reason that Vesperra avoided using bathrooms while more than a couple other girls were in them, as she didn't want to overhear conversations over their romantic or sexual interest in those boys.

Fleur Delacour, it seemed, wasn't getting much more attention than usual, but she had already had quite a lot of attention anyway. The boys flocked to her like moths to a flame—Vesperra didn't understand it. Really, she couldn't have been _that_ pretty…. Or perhaps she should have been telling herself that teenage boys couldn't be _that_ hormonal. Beauty surely wasn't everything to most other people… was it? She did find Severus attractive, but it was most definitely his personality and intelligence that she loved more, and which she had loved _first_.

But the love-lives of other students wasn't something Vesperra was interested in or was going to spend more than a minute or so dwelling on each time she came across it (quite literally, as she often saw Delacour standing by the wall in a corridor, surrounded by boys).

The end of the week came with grace, and Vesperra was glad for it to be over, for it felt for some reason like it had been too long since she had last spoken to Severus face to face. It didn't end up any more or less eventful than Saturdays normally were, but Severus seemed considerably calmer than usual.

It might have been because she brought over all the Chocolate Cauldrons that they hadn't eaten yet—and she knew how much he liked those, if only for the Firewhiskey in them.

* * *

Monday was terribly predictable, but Severus supposed that he ought to be grateful that he had known Karkaroff would pursue him in hopes of an uninterrupted conversation again and had already planned exactly what to do in that situation. While he knew he should have been avoiding him altogether, Severus was a snarky and generally rude man on principle (and because escaping wasn't very possible in the situation he found himself in), and so he chose to speak with him for a minute before abandoning him.

On his way back down to the dungeons after breakfast, he found himself being followed by Karkaroff, but chose not to acknowledge it until the other man made himself become known.

"Severus, I know you already know vot I'm here to talk to you about—" he started.

"I don't, actually," snapped Severus. "And if that's the way you always start your conversations, I understand why you have so few friends."

Karkaroff seemed taken aback for a second, but then seemed to remember his old companion's rude nature and shrugged it off. "But surely you felt it yesterday evening, Severus, the mark, it—"

"Are you on about that again?" Severus once again interrupted him. It took little effort, because of his experience, to hide the fact that he knew exactly what the other man was talking about. Actually, he was rather enjoying this—feigning ignorance and getting Karkaroff riled up. "You've grown paranoid in your old age, Igor."

"I don't think you can to talk about my age vile you're under the employ of Dumbledore," sniffed Karkaroff. "Nor can you say anything about paranoia ven you're _you_, Severus. I didn't imagine the burn, and I'm not imagining the fact that it's gotten darker—!"

"I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying this chat, Igor, but unlike others, I have a morning lesson to get ready for." They had reached Severus's office door, and he was turning the knob without looking at it—but still narrowing his eyes at Karkaroff. "Why don't you head back to your ship and relax in your room while you order your boys around?"

With that, he stepped inside his office and closed the door, leaving Karkaroff (as he guessed) to stand there in confusion and wonder how Severus could have known that he practically used the other Durmstrang boys as servants for a few moments—which, coincidentally, he had learned from Vesperra. Apparently, the Durmstrang boys complained about Karkaroff rather often at the Slytherin table.

For a minute or so, he waited by the door for the sound of footsteps moving away down the dungeon corridor; and then, with a short sigh, he went to prepare for his first lesson.

* * *

"Looks like they've started killing each other again…. I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing."

Vesperra folded her arms out of habit and turned her head slightly to look over at Nott, who was standing beside her and staring at the crates with apprehension and distaste. They and a lot of the other Slytherins, as well as most of the Gryffindors, were all standing outside Hagrid's hut for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson since the First Task—and with much reluctance, too.

Over on the other side of the hut was the paddock that held Madame Maxime's Abraxans; they weren't visible from where Vesperra was standing, but she knew that they were all drinking from a trough full of single-malt whiskey because the fumes from it were wafting over to the students. She really hoped those horses were enjoying the whiskey, because she most certainly wasn't enjoying having to fight off the light-headedness. It might have been less frustrating if it actually _was_ necessary for the Abraxans to drink only single-malt whiskey—because it wasn't. Maxime was just spoiling her horses because apparently that was the French thing to do; but raising them on whiskey was like raising cats on milk instead of water: They get addicted and then they get fat.

The fumes were enough to make the entire class similarly impaired, and so Vesperra should have been glad that she wasn't the only one—but she never regarded herself as "one of the rest" and didn't like being too mentally weak to fight against the whiskey fumes' effects like the others. Besides, her real worry was what Nott had just mentioned, and that was the Blast-Ended Skrewts; there were now only ten of them.

Hagrid, who was standing beside the crates (which were now grouped to one side instead of in a row), apparently wasn't affected by the fumes, because he seemed fine. Or perhaps his brain was so horribly simple that the fumes made no difference. Either way, he was smiling widely in stark contrast to the shivering, frowning class.

"Less of them to deal with, but more danger on each of them," muttered Vesperra to Nott, momentarily raising herself up on tiptoe to see inside the crates, in each of which was a Skrewt, now nearly six feet long. She shivered involuntarily, but it wasn't because of the wind. "I think I should have taken your advice and killed them all while I could."

"Well, they haven' stopped killin' each other," announced Hagrid cheerfully," but I reckon that's ter do with the upcomin' winter." At that, Vesperra and Nott looked to each other, both wearing an expression that distinctly said, _Where the hell is he getting that logic?_ "I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not. Thought we'd jus' try an' see if they fancied a kip… we'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes…."

On the other side of Hagrid were ten large boxes, which he had lined with pillows and fluffy blankets. Part of Vesperra was wondering where he had gotten the pillows and blankets from, and another, larger part was wondering how it was even possible for the man to be so stupid. Judging by the dispirited look mingled with dread on Nott's face, he was wondering the same thing.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," said Hagrid, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

That last bit forced Vesperra's lips to twitch downwards and her eyes to just plain twitch—especially at the way Hagrid regarded them with an absolutely joyful look before gesturing for them all to get on with putting the Skrewts in hibernation-boxes. Vesperra found that she was already unconsciously flexing her fingers.

"Merlin—no," she said under her breath, and Nott looked to her. "No, bugger this, I am _not_ doing it. 'We'll see what happens,' he says. 'Alrigh', I'm jus' going ter give yeh all full reign over these six-foot-long creatures of doom, even though yeh're all only fourteen and they have stingers and exploding bits, and _we'll just see what happens_!'" As she went on, it had come out in more and more of a hiss and also became more high-pitched. She was sorely tempted to wrap her hands around something, whether it be Hagrid's throat or Malfoy's—or even Nott's, though he had never done anything to deserve it.

While some of the Gryffindors (but none of the Slytherins, as far as she could tell) were hesitantly approaching the crates and letting the Skrewts out, Vesperra not-so-surreptitiously backed away from the scene altogether. She didn't back up too far—just enough that she wasn't in immediate danger. And once she did, she noticed that Nott had taken the backward steps with her. And that he was smiling, looking as though he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" she snapped, thoroughly miffed, but not necessarily at him. He didn't seem to take it personally, anyway.

"Your impression of Hagrid," was all he managed to say in a breathy laugh, folding his own arms and looking down for a moment before looking back up at her.

Vesperra felt her anger lighten up slightly and nearly let out a short breath as a laugh herself, but she still said, "What about it?"

"It was good."

A brief smirk that Vesperra couldn't help was her thanks, but she didn't think Nott really needed it, anyway.

"What happened to not wanting to be a coward like Malfoy?" he asked, clearly trying not to sound as though he was mocking her—but instead simply asking her a question. And she didn't take it in a bad way, either, but that didn't stop her from answering in a tone that most would classify as 'snappish.'

"There's a difference between being a coward and being stupid. And in a lot of cases, bravery is just a nice word for stupidity," she told him, reciting what she remembered Severus had once said to her. _So is that what I would have called myself when I followed Lucius and Karkaroff?_ she then thought. _Stupid? But—no, that wasn't bravery… that was just me risking privileges for more important things. Okay, so I was a bit of an idiot._

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed, shifting uncomfortably as he watched Dean Thomas nearly get stung by the Skrewt he had been dragging, which had propelled itself forward and flown directly into him, knocking him over. It was funny in theory, especially since Thomas was one of the non-Slytherins who regularly bullied her, but Vesperra knew that Nott was just trying not to imagine that happening to him. "Only idiots follow other idiots."

Vesperra glanced at Hagrid, who was observing those who were making an attempt with the Skrewts and luckily not taking notice of those who weren't (ergo the Slytherins and Longbottom), for he had to step in and help people not—well, die.

Within minutes, things were getting extremely out of hand. The first Skrewt to get forced into a pillow-lined box and nailed in became very angry very fast, its end exploding and sending flaming bits of wood everywhere within a ten-foot radius. The others did the same, and that was all it took to get Malfoy's sense of self-preservation to kick in and have him, along with Crabbe and Goyle, start running pell-mell for Hagrid's hut and away from the chaos, all dignity forgotten. Others followed their example and ran for safety—although Vesperra, unlike Malfoy, did have some of her dignity left, and she at least tried not to look like a coward as she darted out of the way of a rampaging Skrewt.

Nott was briefly left behind, as Vesperra hadn't made any attempt to grab him when she was saving herself from imminent danger, and he caught up behind her just as she got into the cabin with his robes torn and singed. There were a few Gryffindors who weren't quite brave (or stupid) enough to stay out there and help Hagrid, who was now yelling "Don' panic, now, don' panic!", but they were still last into the cabin—and they forced their way in just as Pansy was trying to barricade the back door.

Everyone who had fled to the cabin was now either catching their breath, watching the windows, or trying to stop the bleeding of the various cuts they had gotten. Most of the class, actually, was in there, which made it a bit cramped, especially with most people eventually pressing their noses up against the window.

Nott was still next to her, but with so little space to stand in, it wasn't noticeable to anyone else. As she glanced over to him, she expected to receive a _Thanks a whole bloody lot_ sort of look, but he seemed to either not care or to have too much on his mind to worry about that.

"Good Lord, Hagrid _lives_ in this?" Vesperra could hear Pansy mutter somewhere behind her—and though she couldn't see the girl's face, she was sure that Pansy was turning her nose up in the air disgustedly.

The other Slytherins seemed to be of a similar attitude, including Nott—though he only appeared to be slightly reluctant to be in such a dirty and poor environment and wasn't really complaining about it.

"They're all going to get themselves killed," came Malfoy's drawling voice (which was now calm and not apparently nervous or frightened anymore) from near the window, from which he was watching what was going on outside. "Good thing, too, since there's no one out there who matters."

"Wouldn't you want them to live to tie up all the damn Skrewts," Vesperra started to say in a condescending growl as she brushed herself off and moved toward the window, "as there would be no one to make sure it was safe for all of us to come out otherwise?"

Malfoy automatically threw her a glare, and Vesperra caught it with one of her own; the mutual look of hatred lasted for a second or two before Malfoy retaliated:

"We could always haul you out the doorway. And if you don't get past the Skrewts, then at least you're killed. It'd be worth it."

The following sniggers from Crabbe and Goyle and even a few of the Gryffindors were interrupted by Daphne saying, "I'd be all for it if it didn't mean we'd have to touch her."

Ignoring that, but scowling, Vesperra continued to watch at one of the windows, leaning against the wall and pressing her forehead against the grubby glass and knowing that she'd have to wash her face later. For the next half an hour, as it felt, she watched with bated breath while Hagrid and the few who had stayed outside to help tried to restrain and tie up the remaining Skrewts, all the while with running commentary from Malfoy. There was also the occasional (and by "occasional," she meant at least once every minute) insult towards _her_ that the others were clearly making because they were bored and because it eased their worries. She already knew that she had practically become the Slytherins' punch-monkey.

Because of the lack of wards (or good housing) on Hagrid's hut, the wood wasn't soundproof, and so they could hear some of the yelling and explosions that were going on outside—it was somewhat muffled, though.

After some time, from what Vesperra could see, Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Hagrid were all fighting off the last Skrewt, the former three shooting jets of fiery sparks from their wands at it. The creature advanced menacingly on them, eliciting some malicious laughter from most of the Slytherins. Vesperra thought of how easily she could have just gone out there and _Avada Kedavra_'d it, which would have saved everyone the trouble.

"Jus' try an' slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won' hurt any o' the others!" they could hear Hagrid yelling worriedly.

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" shouted Weasley angrily, voicing exactly Vesperra's thoughts. He and Potter were then forced to back up into the wall of the cabin because of the advancing Skrewt, and the Slytherins immediately moved away from the wall, in case of an explosion propelling all of them forward….

But then, Vesperra noticed someone else come into the picture, and whoever it was was extremely noticeable because of the striking shade of magenta she—well, she so far assumed it was a she—was wearing. As the woman approached the fence of the vegetable garden, Vesperra could see that she was a highly stylized woman, if nothing else: Her blonde hair was set in rigid curls that highly contrasted with her heavily-jawed face, and her fingers ended in two-inch long nails, each painted to match her cloak. A look of utmost smugness, almost more than Vesperra would have expected to see on Malfoy (or Lockhart, whom the woman's clothes had reminded her of), was on her face.

"Well, well, well…," said the woman, her voice coming out in a seemingly overly-dramatic tone, "this _does_ look like fun."

At that, Vesperra decided that she already didn't like her.

Hagrid, not having noticed her before his feet had left the ground, suddenly launched himself forward and landed on the Skrewt, flattening it and keeping it from moving. Its end then shot out a blast of fire, and a second small earthquake was added to the one Hagrid's collision had just caused. A few nearby pumpkins were instantly roasted.

"Who _is_ that woman?" muttered Vesperra distastefully, narrowing her eyes. She glanced for a moment to the others, none of whom seemed to know; but then her question was answered as Hagrid, who was slipping a loop of rope around the stinger of the Skrewt he had just caught, asked the same thing.

"Rita Skeeter," she replied, "_Daily Prophet_ reporter." The woman beamed with what was so obviously (and yet clearly practiced) fake happiness, and Vesperra could see that she had a few gold teeth.

Curiosity dissipating, Vesperra let her shoulders relax and her face fall into more of a frown. _So that's the reporter known for ruining reputations,_ she thought, shuffling away from the back window, no longer caring to watch or listen. _Better keep her away from Malfoy._

* * *

As badly as she wanted rid of the Blast-Ended Skrewts (and Hagrid, too, if possible), Vesperra was faced with something even more unpleasant and terrifying later that week.

It was nearing the end of a Double Charms lesson with the Ravenclaws, and Vesperra was getting tired of the rolled-up balls of paper repeatedly hitting the back of her head. She would have retaliated, but everything that came to mind of what she'd like to do to Malfoy was something that she didn't think was a good idea to do in front of Flitwick.

The shrimp of a professor was now running across the classroom and up his makeshift-staircase of books. He cleared his throat, and the resulting squeak made a couple of the conversations pause in favor of him (Flitwick didn't really command as much respect as McGonagall or Severus did). Malfoy didn't stop magically launching the same few paper balls at the back of Vesperra's head, but he started doing it more discreetly.

"As usual, your homework is to practice—see if we can all do better next time," squeaked Flitwick, "but before you leave, I'd like all of your attention." At that, not much more attention was given, but Vesperra did tilt her head upward a fraction of an inch, wondering what was so important. "Now, as you all know, the Christmas Holidays are nearly upon us. And what you may not know is that a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament is the Yule Ball, which is a ball open only to fourth years and above—though you may invite a younger student if you wish. It is an opportunity to socialize with those who have visited us from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and, of course, to break the monotony of the Holidays."

Everyone was staring at Flitwick with rapt attention now, whether eager or disgusted or otherwise. Vesperra was among those in the disgusted category (which was rather small), but it was more so that her mind was reeling with the sort of logical things that wouldn't be going through most teenagers' minds after being told about a ball:

_Merlin, _that's_ what the dress was for… _was her first thought—the one that had made her face blanch. She honestly hadn't given it much thought since the beginning of the school year, and now she was feeling extreme dread. It wasn't dread for attending this ball, though; it was all that she was sure would come along with it. The mere existence of something like this would give Malfoy (possibly Pansy and her friends even more than him) an entire new artillery of insults and taunts to throw at her. There was also the fact that nearly everyone at Hogwarts would want to go to this stupid thing, and so Vesperra would most definitely not be alone with Severus this Christmas.

"It is mandatory to wear dress robes if you are attending the ball," continued Flitwick—_Thank God the ball itself isn't mandatory,_ thought Vesperra—"which will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall."

If Professor Flitwick said anything else about the Yule Ball after that, Vesperra didn't know, because she chose that moment to completely tune out. Her only concerns right now were avoiding the looks of the other Slytherins, which she was sure were soon to happen if they weren't already, and getting out of the Charms classroom as soon as possible. She'd rather avoid confrontation about this for as long as she could.

The moment the bell rang, Vesperra was headed out the door without having given a single glance to anyone else, walking upstairs to the Ancient Runes classroom.

From there, she tried to treat the day as a normal one. She'd like to have been able to say that the Yule Ball had absolutely nothing to do with her and therefore didn't affect her life, but she knew that that wasn't true. Everything around her was changing, and that was already noticeable in that day's Ancient Runes lesson: Several of the other girls wore grins that were undeniably because of pre-ball giddiness. At least Nott didn't mention it or even seem to care.

* * *

Having known about the Yule Ball all along, Severus had thought quite a bit about Vesperra's reaction but had never known whether he was more likely to find it amusing or slightly frightening. When she asked him what the bloody point of keeping that from her when he must have known she was obviously never going to go was, he had nothing to say but that he had wanted to see (or at least hear) her reaction. And then, of course, an apology, because he could tell that she was genuinely angry.

Because of all the drama (or "interesting things," as he preferred to call it instead of using that childish word) going on this year, Vesperra always told him much of what went on with the students both in and out of classes, and so Severus caught wind of how the other Slytherins were reacting to the news of the ball—basically, everything that annoyed her. He didn't think she realized that she was complaining to him, but that was the best word for what she was doing. But Severus didn't mind, because he now also knew about the Blast-Ended Skrewt incident and had not only proof against Hagrid to give to Dumbledore, but also a hilarious image in his head of Malfoy running away like the cowardly little ferret (or ferrety little coward?) he was.

And after he mentioned to Dumbledore the Care of Magical Creatures lesson Vesperra had told him about, the old man had finally agreed that things were getting a little out of hand and that he would talk to Hagrid. It seemed to make a difference, too, because Vesperra told him that they were no longer having any direct contact with the Blast-Ended Skrewts after her next lesson—which brought him great relief.

Like his friend, Severus was also generally miffed by the fact that nearly every single Hogwarts student fourth year and up (if not all of them) had signed their name up to stay at the castle for Christmas. It wasn't a surprise, but he still hated not having the castle, for the most part, just to him and Vesperra. He was only slightly less angry when he remembered that it technically meant Potter was safer as well.

Still, however, the cheerfulness of the holiday season, as usual, affected him in the exact opposite way and brought his mood down to a foul one. While he had already been planning it anyway, Severus took extra joy in informing his fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of term. They all left the Potions classroom in distinctly low spirits soon afterwards, the exception of which ironically had her spirits lifted by this news. Or they might have been lifted simply because she had just spent an hour and a half in the same room as him.

Vesperra stayed behind as usual, and approached his desk, smirking, "I think Longbottom started crying before he left the classroom."

"Anyone besides you and few others who wasn't crying at least on the inside either has too much false confidence or is an idiot," replied Severus, leaning back in his chair and smirking back at her. "You know I don't intend to make this test easy."

"Too bad this one's only a written test, because I'd really like to see Potter get poisoned this time…," sighed Vesperra. "It'd be a nice break from all the stupid holiday cheer going around." With that, she made a brief grimace.

"Anyone ask you to the ball yet?" The tone of Severus's voice implied that he was so obviously being sarcastic, but also that he was very well aware Vesperra wasn't going to find it amusing. That was partly why he had dared to mention it, though—his friend was always amusing when she was frustrated. So long as she wasn't frustrated enough for it to last long.

"What would you do if I said yes?" said Vesperra, slightly annoyed and raising an eyebrow at him.

"I…" For the first time in a while, Severus found himself extremely conflicted as to what to say. Vesperra was a logical person, and so she wouldn't likely be flattered if he said something like "I would ask who the lucky guy was" or "I wouldn't be all that surprised, honestly," as those were truly unrealistic answers that she would find stupid. After all, she didn't think too highly of herself in terms of outward appeal—or anything but her intelligence, really.

But Vesperra was also a teenage girl, and for him to say that he wouldn't believe her or that he would be rather shocked would, in any sense, be an insult. And whether or not she would take heart to it, he still didn't want to insult her.

Vesperra didn't realize the complications of her question for several seconds, during which Severus was staring at her hopelessly, and when she did, she felt bad. "Oh—Merlin, cruel question, sorry…," she said immediately. "It's not as if I would say yes to anyone in the impossible event that it actually happened, anyway."

"I wouldn't imagine that you would," said Severus, relieved that he didn't have to come up with a good answer to that question. "Do you even have the slightest idea how to dance?"

"Not at all. You?" Leaning with her hip supporting herself against Severus's desk, she smiled expectantly and with only half-seriousness.

"A bit, actually," he admitted, thinking back to a memory from several years ago, which involved a particularly hot day in summer, two thirteen year-olds, and a radio. Severus paused to relish the both surprised and amused look on Vesperra's face. "But nothing could make me dance in public. I'd likely step on your feet several times, anyway."

* * *

The last week of term was nothing short of hellish, by Vesperra's standards. Boys and girls were asking each other to the ball left and right in the corridors, and she was forced to witness it and then withstand the immense bouts of giggles afterward. Everyone else's mind seemed to be on Christmas, and for the first time in a few years she was finding herself actually hating the damned holiday and not looking forward to it at all.

And, of course, there were the constant taunts of "So, Grease-perra, are you going to the ball alone, or are you bringing your snake as a date?" and "Dear God, I can't even imagine seeing her in a _dress_" from the other Slytherins, who were just as focused on the ball as everyone else.

Malfoy had apparently asked Pansy to go with him shortly after Flitwick had announced the upcoming Yule Ball to them, though Vesperra didn't understand why that was necessary, as they were already in a relationship. As far as she knew, none of the other fourth years had yet gotten dates until Daphne announced that she was going with some fifth year boy from Ravenclaw.

What was more annoying than the explosion of love and Christmas spirit around her, even more than the perpetual taunts regarding her and the Yule Ball, was the assumption of practically everyone around her that she would _want_ a date in the first place, but simply wasn't attractive or even just pleasant enough of a person to get one.

Well, it was true that she had hardly any traits that would make anyone romantically interested in her, but who said that everyone always had to be looking for a relationship? _Where_ was it written that a teenage girl couldn't be satisfied with being independent? Sure, she was almost painfully in love with her best friend, but she was okay with just being friends for now, since she knew nothing more could happen while she was still a child. All she truly needed from Severus was for him to be there and talk to her and understand her, and she was okay with just that. She didn't want anyone else, and she didn't need anyone else. And for all the people besides her and Severus who had no idea about their friendship, it should have just been established that she didn't need anybody.

If at all, she wouldn't mind going to the ball with Severus. Vesperra supposed that she would actually be quite glad to go with him if he wasn't a teacher…. But he was the only exception. No one else.

As for classes during the last week of term, a few teachers seemed to realize that the majority of the students' minds were elsewhere and not on the lesson, and so the last Charms and Herbology lessons of the term were spent putting up with the others playing games while focusing on homework from the teachers who would never allow an "off day"—McGonagall, Severus, and Binns.

The Ancient Runes lesson before dinner on Thursday was another free one, as Professor Babbling didn't think it was worth it to try getting them to focus on translations. Vesperra was honestly getting annoyed with the lack of things to busy herself with, and would have preferred that they have a normal lesson, but she supposed that it wasn't too bad if she had Nott to talk to. She noticed, however, that he was initiating conversation with her less than usual—she couldn't figure out exactly why, but she put it off as nothing of importance and likely because he had something on his mind.

When the class ended, she left the room with a slight huff of relief, but was greeted with the surprise of a slightly nervous-sounding Nott stopping her and saying, "Hey—er… d'you mind if we stop for a minute?—so I can talk to you in private?"

"It wouldn't exactly be private if it's in the middle of the corridor," said Vesperra flatly, frowning curiously. But she gave a sort of sharp nod in agreement and stopped, though first walking sideways to the edge of the corridor with Nott following. "What do you want?"

He said nothing at first, but instead stared at her for a moment, then quickly glanced down and back up, taking what appeared to be a deep breath. Another second of silence passed, in which Vesperra raised an impatient eyebrow, and then he closed his mouth so that he could open it again:

"Do you want to be my date for the Yule Ball?"

Vesperra didn't know what she had expected, but that wasn't it. The shock of such a question made her freeze, and she stopped breathing, but there was strangely no great confusion overwhelming her at once. She automatically assumed, without the slightest consideration for other possibilities, that Nott was playing a joke on her: This was something that had crossed her mind several times over the past week, and she had already decided it, plain and simple—no one would want to ask her out. The fact that Nott had said this all in one quick breath and now seemed to be very anxious for her answer hardly occurred to her as proof that this was real.

"You know," she started to say once her initial shock wore off, "I didn't think that you of all people would pull a joke like that." She frowned more deeply and folded her arms, starting to turn and walk away—

But Nott stuck his hand out in alarm, and said, "What?—No, I'm not joking! I wouldn't pull something sick like that—I… I really want you to come with me!" There was a certain desperation in his voice that made it clear he was serious, but it also made Vesperra angrier.

"That desperate for a date, are you?" snarled Vesperra, scowling. "I'm surprised you even care about having a date at all, as you haven't seemed to care much about the ball since Flitwick told us—"

"No, I'm not desperate!" Nott's voice rose considerably higher than it had been before, and his face flushed red, looking both embarrassed and somewhat angry. Having never seen him like this before, Vesperra narrowed her eyes at him and let her mouth drop open slightly, just now starting to become confused. He almost seemed to be pleading with her. "Like I said before, I just really want to go with you—here, if you want proof, Tracey asked me to go with her, but I said no."

At that, Vesperra cocked her head slightly and stared at Nott silently for a very lengthy few seconds, her bewilderment increasing as she tried to wrap her mind around everything and make sense out of it. Nott was staring back at her expectantly, with his neck arched toward her, and breathing scarcely. Finally, she blinked and glanced at the floor for a moment, and then said, "Why exactly do you want to go with _me_, out of all the rest of the girls you could have?"

Nott took a moment to raise an eyebrow and give her an _Are you kidding me?_ sort of look, and then gave a wide shake of his head to emphasize his point. When he locked eyes with her again, his lips seemed to be twitching into an ironic smile. "Merlin, Vesperra—for a genius, you can be pretty clueless sometimes…."

Resenting even being looked at like that, she began to open her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted as Nott continued:

"I—well, I _like_ you… in that way—" He cut himself off for a second, apparently to gather the rest of his courage to speak without breaks in his voice and look her directly in the eyes. "It's not like I've _tried_ to be obvious about it, but I thought you at least suspected it… since I've had this crush on you since first year. I thought that—that maybe you'd like me back after all this time."

Vesperra was a girl of massive intelligence, capable of inferring things simply by logic, solving problems within seconds by running through several possibilities at once, understanding complicated spells with minimal effort, and blocking out everything around her simply by focusing on her own mind, but she could not for the life of her understand this. The fact that Nott had pretty much just admitted that he was in love with her and had been for over three years was not sinking in, and she didn't think it was going to anytime soon. She refused to believe it.

It took her another few seconds to recover, after which Vesperra took a deep breath and looked at him seriously again. "Alright…," she said, "just explain this to me, then. I don't… _understand _how you could like me like that. Frankly, I'm a rude bitch at times, and I'm pretty sure I've never given you a reason to think I genuinely care about you, whether or not I actually do." As she said this, however, she remembered all the times that Nott hadn't seemed to care about being mistreated by her, and it suddenly made so much more sense. Still, though—"What reason have I ever given you to—_to fall in love with me_?"

It felt unreal to say that.

Nott looked taken aback, and then almost sad—no, _definitely_ sad. "Well… yes, you definitely can be rude sometimes," he agreed in a sigh, "but you're not like Malfoy—you're not like that because you're an arrogant arse who bullies other people for fun, but because other people are even worse to you…. You're a loner, just like me—well, I have Blaise too, but I'm not exactly close to him either. And… you already know that I appreciate your intelligence. And your sense of humor. And your sarcasm, and your passion for what you do…"

Vesperra felt a pang of discomfort in her chest, for she realized that Nott's reasons were quite similar to a lot of her own reasons for loving Severus. But then she pushed that feeling away and interrupted him again.

"But—you—_this_? You don't mind _this_?" she said, moving her hands up and down to gesture to her whole body. "The hair, the nose, the skin—everything?"

He frowned, wrinkling his nose. "I'm not that shallow—I figured you'd know that by now. But no, actually, I don't mind it. At all. I find you… attractive, actually."

His voice was so sincere that it made Vesperra feel like she was going to be sick; but she wasn't sure whether that was because of actual disgust or guilt. If she did feel any guilt, anyway, she wouldn't have admitted it to herself. It felt like the logic she had built up and everything she had convinced herself to be principle rules of the Universe were being torn apart—like nothing made sense anymore. Because this didn't make sense: Whom she'd thought had simply been the one other Slytherin who wasn't cruel to her had actually been chasing after her all this time… and she only felt the slightest twinge of pity for him.

Without the mental preamble of other sensible thoughts, Vesperra suddenly remembered the day that Nott had rescued her from the cruelty of Thomas and Finnigan, which had resulted in him accidentally picking up the card labeled _Heartbroken_ from the Malignant Cards that she had dropped.

_Merlin…,_ she thought, some unknown emotion (or something else entirely, possibly) coming over her. She hadn't done it yet, but she had no intention to make sure his love had gone unrequited, and she knew she was going to whether she tried to or not: She was about to break his heart.

With a deep breath, she steeled herself, and then said firmly, "No."

Nott frowned again. "No what?"

"No, I won't go to the Yule Ball with you."

His face didn't twist into hopelessness as much as she thought it would. "Come on, could you just… consider it? Please?—I—"

"_Listen_, Nott—_Theodore_," she started to say, gritting her teeth and briefly shutting her eyes tightly in a grimace, which became more because of self-annoyance at even doing this in the first place, "I have no romantic interest in you whatsoever, and nothing is going to make me change my mind about going to the Yule Ball with you." The use of his first name seemed to surprise both of them, and Vesperra wasn't even completely sure why she had corrected herself and called him that for the first time. But she continued: "And don't get any ideas about trying to change my mind anymore, because I'm never going to be interested. I—well, I suppose that I'm—sorry."

No more on her mind to say to him, she only spent a second longer next to the wall of the corridor before turning away completely and heading down the now empty corridor toward the spiral staircase. That was still long enough, though, for her to get a good look at his face, and it had been one that even Vesperra, who generally fancied herself heartless, couldn't bear to look at for too long. It hadn't been twisted into extreme sadness, but had instead been almost empty-looking, broken, and hopeless—in every sense of the word, heartbroken.

What Vesperra was fraught with as she descended the stairs on her way to the Great Hall was, she didn't know, but she was sure it wasn't pity or anything similar. Whatever it was, though, it hurt. And she didn't like it one bit.

* * *

**I'll just apologize in advance. I know that a lot of you are feeling really sad for Nott right now, and honestly, so am I. But if you've paid attention to the story and remembered the Heartbroken card from a while ago, then you should have seen this coming.**

**Aside from that, I realize that this chapter is definitely more back-and-forth than the others, and I think that it was a good change, considering all that's going on. And I know I said the Yule Ball was coming up, likely giving most of you the idea that this chapter would include it, so I'm sorry about that too. I just felt this was a good place to stop, and otherwise it would have been an extremely long chapter.**

**Anyway, PLEASE review! I know a lot of you will really want to, after how cruel I've - I mean Vesperra - just been to Nott.**


	60. Book 4: Chapter 14

**I realize that the last chapter really disappointed a lot of people because of what happened with Nott, and I don't blame you if you are, but don't think for one second that this is the end of his involvement in the story. Either way, for those of you who think that was an anticlimactic way to go about it, well... _life_ is anticlimactic. In life, not all the people we meet are going to stay with us forever, whether they're friends or aquaintances or otherwise. Sometimes people fade away from our lives, and sometimes they just disappear all at once, because that's how life is. A fictional character's life doesn't necessarily have to have all the aspects of an unrealistic world. Also, I don't write to please everyone. I write for myself, and having others enjoy my work is just a bonus.**

**Anyway, I apologize in advance, but I won't be posting a chapter next week. It's Spring Break for me next week, and I've got studying to do and an essay to outline (and also the rest of Book 4 to outline more specifically).**

**Now, Yule Ball time! :D**

* * *

"Are… are you doing this just to see my reaction, or are you serious? Normally I can be sure, but now not so much."

Severus was careful with his wording and the tone of his voice and the movement of his head, hands, and body, but it wasn't so much because of worry that he would offend her as it was a need to keep his guard up, to make sure he wasn't being tricked. Having his friend joke around to him was one thing, but he genuinely couldn't tell whether she was lying or not, and he didn't like the feeling of his senses being manipulated.

He frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes at her across the couch, as she was sitting on the other end with her feet in his lap. And he supposed he should have known she wanted to talk about something important simply by the way she was sitting, as this obviously meant she wanted to speak to him and have at least somewhat eye contact, unlike their usual sitting right next to each other, where she would have had to almost painfully stretch her neck to look at him.

Looking back at him, Vesperra took a deep yet discreet breath and slid down further into a lying-down position in an attempt to both appear and feel casual. This wasn't some horrible secret she had kept for a long time and only now decided to tell him—it was something of relative importance that she had, for some reason, wanted to wait a couple days to tell him in person. Granted, she could have told him on Friday after the test on antidotes in Potions class, but that wouldn't have been enough time. And it wasn't something she wanted to tell over the journals.

"Yes, I'm serious," replied Vesperra, keeping her voice even as though it were nothing. "Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. And I still am… even after his explanation. Hell, _especially_ after the explanation."

"Explanation?" Severus raised a curious eyebrow.

"Yeah, he—er… well, when I asked him why he wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me, of all people, he said that he's… been in love with me since our first year." It was a bit difficult to say that with a completely straight face, and Vesperra did feel a slight twitch try to pull her lip into a disgusted look. Or at least, she was pretty sure that's what it would have become. But her pause at that and the flick of her eyes to Severus's directly afterwards was obvious, however not her intentions were to do either of them. Was she trying to make him _jealous_?

Whether she was trying to or not, Severus did feel a slight twinge of something that felt similar to jealousy—though he wouldn't have admitted that. There was also a swooping feeling of guilt for who knows what reason.

"Well… what did you say to him?" he asked, even though he was already pretty sure of the answer.

First frowning briefly to herself, Vesperra gave him an _Are you kidding me?_ sort of look, which he had also been pretty sure of and which was similar to the one Nott had given her on Thursday. "I told him no, obviously. I already told you a week ago that I wouldn't say 'yes' to anyone even if I _was_ asked…. And here we are." Her voice softened with those last words and she looked away from him, frowning at nothing in particular. The slight contortion of her face was on purpose, and it told him clearly what she was thinking and trying to say without words: _It's crazy, isn't it?—someone being in love with _me_…. That just doesn't happen. _

And then Severus felt a deep pang of sadness for Theodore Nott, which had been building up since she had first mentioned that he had asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him. He tried to remember if he had noticed anything off about the boy in Potions class yesterday and, while it might have been his new knowledge distorting things, did believe that Nott had looked somewhat depressed.

The sadness was better defined as empathy, and Severus felt momentarily close to this boy whom he hardly knew other than for his acquaintanceship with Vesperra and a student with above-average (but not nearly good as Vesperra's) potion-making skills. For he hardly thought Nott would have lied about that sort of thing, and he knew exactly how it felt to be in love with a friend and not have that love reciprocated. There were only two real differences, and they were that Lily had actually considered him her best friend (while Vesperra didn't even consider Nott her friend, whether or not the boy did), and that Severus had never admitted it to Lily. So, in a way, Nott's situation was worse.

He really did feel for the kid. He felt sad for the whole situation. And he couldn't help but even feel a bit angry at Vesperra for openly rejecting Nott. It was like stepping back into his past for the moment, not only remembering the silent rejection and the pain of his love going (apparently, at the time) unreciprocated, but _living_ it. But then again, as he remembered, Severus was also fairly sure—however much he kept that knowledge tucked away where he couldn't see it—that Vesperra was in love with _him_, to some extent. So he then felt angry at himself as well. He didn't want to break hearts.

And he didn't want Vesperra to break hearts, either. Severus wanted to fix this—for the first time he could remember, he wanted to stop some of the pain that was going on, even that which wasn't his.

"Maybe you should give him a chance," he advised, seemingly out of nowhere, and he ignored the incredulous look he was given a second later. "I know you're not the sort of person to pursue a romantic relationship, but if it's true that he's in love with you, then perhaps he deserves some consideration."

It strangely hurt Severus to tell her this. There was the underlying suggestion which they were both at least somewhat aware of for her to get over her feelings for him, and it felt strange to tell her to do that—even if it was in a roundabout way. But, for some reason he couldn't quite explain (or admit?) even to himself, he just didn't want Vesperra to have a boyfriend. He felt a twist of discomfort in his stomach at the thought of her dating, and he even felt some sort of anger rise up against Nott at knowing that he wanted to date her. But Severus was doing this _in spite_ of those feelings; he was trying very hard not to be selfish. She was his best friend, and he wanted her to be happy. And he thought she could be happy if she was in a romantic relationship where the feelings were reciprocated. Aside from that, he didn't want to be—in effect, not necessarily exact to a fault—a James.

Part of Vesperra was surprised that Severus would be giving her serious romantic advice, but another part figured that she should have expected him to react with something like this. She also felt a strange sort of pain, though, and she supposed that that was leftover from what had happened with Nott—the feeling that, whether she wanted to or not, there was absolutely no way she could have any feelings for him back, as she was already emotionally compromised.

It was obvious, wasn't it? The reason that she would never even consider Nott. It was so obvious, and she was almost sure that Severus was at least somewhat aware of it; but she couldn't say it. Not now, anyway.

Although, the look in her eyes as she locked gazes with him should have proved it. _You know I'm not going to give him a chance,_ she thought to him, not entirely sure whether or not he could hear it, and feeling a sort of heartache come on. _And you know the reason. I love you, and I'm never going to love anyone else. I refuse to._

"Whether or not he deserves it is irrelevant," said Vesperra, relinquishing the sad look and speaking dryly. "Love isn't about deserving it—it's about how you feel. I don't feel anything for Nott, and I never will, just like I told him. Besides, even if that _were_ to happen… I could never get as close to anyone as I am to you. A boyfriend can't be second to a best friend, can they? I wouldn't even be able to let said hypothetical boyfriend know about you. And what kind of relationship would that be?"

There. She had both practically admitted it and rationalized relationships at the same time.

As for her reasons for dating being impractical for her, Severus completely understood. In fact, he immediately felt immensely reassured about everything, as this meant he could be selfish and want her all for himself and not feel bad about it; and he suddenly didn't feel as sad for Nott, either. Urging Vesperra to date the boy would mean almost completely sacrificing his friendship with her, however much he still empathized with having your heart broken like that.

But the fact that Vesperra had directly told Nott that she was never going to feel anything for him stuck with Severus, and he couldn't decide whether that had been just plain cruel of her or unconventionally kinder than normal. On one hand, she had thoroughly crushed any of Nott's hope of being with her—but on the other, she had made sure she wouldn't end up leading him on to think that it was still possible and then have him get his hopes crushed all over again in the future. However, Severus wasn't sure the boy would give up even after being rejected.

There was one thing, aside from the details of the love confession and rejection (hell, he didn't even think he wanted to know the details), that Severus really needed to know. He needed to _really_ know what kind of person Vesperra was. Because, for the moment, he wasn't entirely sure.

"Do you feel sorry for him?" he asked, one of his hands resting on the lower part of her leg that was on his lap. His voice sounded casual, like that had been a completely normal question, but he was sure she detected the edge of urgency somewhere in there. Still, she gave him a questioning look rather than immediately answering, so Severus said again, "Do you feel sorry for Nott?—for not love—liking him in return? Any sympathy at all?"

It wasn't a question easily answered, either. Vesperra stared at him for a second and then looked away, taking several moments to think. She wasn't a sympathetic person on principle, but, as it had been a couple days ago, she was unsure about it this time.

"I… well, I can't really tell," she told him. "I mean, I don't think I feel sad specifically for him…. But I didn't like it. It… I don't know, but I suppose I could say it hurt… to have to tell him all of that. I'd have preferred for him to not have said anything at all, especially since he's gone and made things awkward between us. It's a good thing that I only had to go through one day of it before the holidays officially started, but now… how are we supposed to go back to being just normal, friendly acquaintances now that I know he's in love with me and he knows I'll never like him that way? At least we weren't actually friends, because he would have ruined it."

_Alright,_ thought Severus, thoroughly relieved. _Confused about her feelings is better than not caring at all that she just did the cruelest thing you can do to another human being._ Being cruel to Longbottom and making him so frightened that he wet his pants was one thing, but quite literally crushing someone's soul, especially one of someone whom you actually care about a bit, was entirely another. And it was something Severus would never have wanted Vesperra to do.

* * *

It had felt very odd for the last day of the term to pass and have almost no one (out of the fourth years and up, anyway) leave Hogwarts, and it continued to feel stranger and stranger as the week went on. If not for the thick blanket of snow that soon settled over everything outside the castle, it would have seemed like lessons were still going on, what with the load of homework that Vesperra and the rest of the fourth years had been given over the break.

The only benefit was that at least she could stay inside her dorm, the library, or in Severus's office for most of the time and not have to deal with full corridors. As usual, Vesperra finished her homework quite early, and so that left her a lot of free time when Severus was busy with something. Honestly, she might have fancied a walk around the grounds or a trip to the Room of Requirement if the castle wasn't still so full.

She noticed, after a few days, that the Beauxbatons students didn't spend much time outside, and she supposed this was both because they were from France and therefore weren't used to the cold weather of Britain, and because they didn't own anything thick enough to drive out the freezing cold. They were only ever outside when they were on their way to or from the powder-blue carriage they had come in, and that was only early in the morning when they were coming to breakfast or in the evening when they were heading to bed.

The Durmstrang boys, however, seemed to be extremely used to such low temperatures, even to the point where they didn't need to wear thick coats inside the castle, where it was nearly as cold as it was outside. This wasn't exactly surprising, though, as Vesperra knew that Durmstrang was likely somewhere near Russia—possibly in the Baltic States, where it was probably freezing year-round.

Observing the winter behavior of the foreign guests wasn't all Vesperra did, though. She spent much of the time that she didn't spend with Severus either reading (oftentimes what she'd already read countless times before), lying on her back in her bed and just thinking, or talking to Artemis. Speaking of which, she had thought her snake would be difficult to feed now that it was too cold for rats to come out, but Severus had talked to Hagrid again at her request—and he apparently did still have a couple rodents hiding around in his hut. Severus had also taken the opportunity to ask about the Blast-Ended Skrewts, which the Groundskeeper had admitted were becoming a hassle and were constantly trying to kill each other if he didn't keep them restrained. He had come back to Vesperra with the news that the man actually seemed upset about having to move on from those horrible creatures, and also with a particularly large, live rat in a cage that would keep Artemis full for a while.

Any time passing through the corridors was also spent avoiding confrontations with Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins, which Vesperra was sure they'd be keen for now that they had an entire two weeks to antagonize her without much chance of a teacher intervening. It was unavoidable during meals (except with the employ of hiding inside her mind-cave), but otherwise she hardly saw them but for when she was on her way to or passing through the Common Room. She imagined that they all wondered even more than usual where she was going when no one could find her anywhere, but she was only slightly paranoid that they were suspecting something close to the truth. And for someone like Vesperra, being only slightly paranoid was saying something.

Time spent in Severus's office had to be gone about with a bit more caution than normally, but, being a witch and a wizard, doing so was very possible. Just a couple more spells added to the door as wards and alarms, and they considered themselves only at slight risk.

All the while, Hogwarts was buzzing with talk about the Yule Ball, and Vesperra didn't have to come out of the dungeons to be aware of this. Honestly, she was almost dreading the day that Christmas came. It was especially frustrating that Dumbledore wanted all the teachers to be there as well and was forcing Severus to at least stay outside and monitor the goings-on if he wasn't going to be inside the Great Hall, because that meant that staying away from the ball wouldn't even allow her more time with him. In fact, that in itself actually made her entertain the idea of going.

It wasn't until the evening before Christmas Eve that she realized the Yule Ball would include dinner and that if she didn't go, she wouldn't get a chance to eat. And when she did, she sat bolt upright in her bed and tried to figure things out—but really, it was already decided, even if she just ate a lot at lunch or got food from the kitchens. Two factors were enough, and she knew that some part of her, buried deep beneath the surface, would regret it for some unexplainable reason if she didn't go.

Because really, the other Slytherins were going to make fun of her whether she went or not—and she didn't _have_ to go with a date. They would likely be even worse to her if she did bring one.

* * *

"Get a good look at it, Artemis, because that's the last time you're ever going to see me in a dress."

Vesperra huffed and looked down, trying to pull the fabric up further over her chest. Artemis, who was wrapped around one of the wooden posts of her bed (since she had let her out for some exercise), responded with a simple flick of her forked tongue, unable to think of a proper response to that. Probably because she was a snake and therefore didn't understand certain customs of humans…. Come to think of it, neither did Vesperra, at times.

She didn't like having a low scoop over her chest, she didn't like her shoulders being somewhat exposed, she didn't like the dress being tight around the waist, and she just plain didn't like wearing a dress. Despite the fact that it was black, it was still just too blatantly girly. But wearing dress robes was mandatory to attend the Yule Ball, and so she had to. Strangely enough, though, it fit her quite well. And at least the skirt part of it wasn't poofed out, like she knew several girls' would be…. Vesperra couldn't help but wonder what her mum had been doing with this. Judging by the frayed threads around some of the edges and rips in various places on the fabric (which she fixed), she guessed that it was pretty old and probably a family heirloom of some sort…. Her mother might not have ever even worn it.

Unlike what she, once again, was sure many other girls were doing, Vesperra didn't see the need to change her hair. She didn't even know what she would be able to do to it. Braid it? _Bloody hell no. Don't even know how._ Putting it in a bun, curling it, and straightening it were all out of the question as well, especially since she didn't know how to do any of them either. But styling your hair wasn't mandatory, so she didn't even bother herself with that. Same went with make-up and shoes.

Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Vesperra decided that there was really no point in staying in her dorm much longer. Really, there wasn't even a point to standing in front of the mirror, because it wasn't as though she was "fixing" her hair or cared about what her dress was doing as long as the scoop wasn't too low—which she had already fixed. But most of the rest of the school, including the other Slytherins, were already at the ball; and she didn't think she needed to wait any longer to head up to the Great Hall.

She had decided to wait in order to put off taunts about her actually deciding to go to the ball—no one but Severus knew that she was going so far. And his reaction to that, which she had told him on Christmas Eve, had been surprised at first but understanding and possibly glad after she had told him her reasons. About an hour earlier, she had left his office—not to get ready, as that surely couldn't have taken longer than ten minutes, but to let him get ready. He was a teacher, after all, and did have some responsibilities when it came to anything concerning the Triwizard Tournament.

Highly reluctant, but hungry, she pulled up the dress over her chest once more and left her dorm.

* * *

Even with the ball to celebrate the day and all the extra and more extravagant than usual decorations, it was feeling less and less like Christmas as the day went on. Actually, the ball was the _reason_ it wasn't feeling like Christmas.

For Severus, the twenty-fifth of December had never felt like a holiday or even mattered to him since the last one he'd spent with Lily, and until the first one he'd spent with Vesperra. And with his best friend (the current one), it had always been a day of the castle being nearly empty and the two of them just having a nice day in his office, possibly with some Wizard's Chess and wine. Now, however, while they could still spend time in his office, it wasn't the same. The castle was too full, the event at the end of the day was looming over them… and there was no Christmas tea, because the ball included a feast.

The few things that stayed the same were the lack of presents for both of them (even from each other, since they had agreed a couple years ago not to get each other presents for Christmas), the few rounds of Wizard's Chess, and the hugs that came along with exchanges of "Happy Christmas." But those weren't exactly significant.

Some time after Vesperra left his office, Severus was scowling and pulling on robes that were slightly nicer than his normal ones, for even the teachers were required to wear dress robes to the ball just as they were to _go_ to the ball. His weren't really all that bad—they were still black, but they were made of some other fabric that he didn't know nor care about, and the sleeves had layers. From even a short distance, they wouldn't even look like dress robes. He still didn't like them, though, as this still constituted as "dressing up."

Luckily, being a staff member meant he didn't have to wade through the crowd of students milling around the doors to the Great Hall, and he was able to enter through the door behind the Staff Table as usual, instead. Severus found a seat at one of the hundred or so tables that had been set up in place of the House tables, which some of the other teachers were seated at, and let his eyes rove around to get a look at all the decorations that had been put up. He had to admit—though he didn't necessarily like them (mostly on principle of not enjoying when other people were cheerful), he couldn't deny that they were impressive: Sparkling silver frost covered the walls of the hall to the point where it actually looked like it had snowed in there, and hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy were crossing the starry black ceiling. The décor of the tables, however, didn't extend much beyond a glittering tablecloth and a lantern.

But this sparked a bit of dread in Severus to replace the bitter apathy about the ball, because lanterns meant dim light and dim light meant slow-dancing. And he did _not_ want to be surrounded by that…. He reminded himself that he was going to leave to monitor the corridors, anyway, but he still couldn't help but fear that he wouldn't manage to escape in time, just in case he was somehow caught in the middle of a crowd.

When eight o'clock arrived and the doors were thrown open, Severus found himself impatient for Vesperra to walk through them so he could at least see her… both for the usual reasons and to see how amusing she looked in a dress. It wasn't that he thought she would look unattractive, but dresses simply weren't her thing, and he figured she'd be scowling the whole time.

Seeing her annoyed was always a bit amusing.

* * *

The thing she hated the most about the dress while walking up the dungeon stairs was the fact that she couldn't hide her journal in it (at least she had still been able to attach a wand holster to the inside of her sleeve so that she had the one weapon she couldn't go anywhere without), but she changed her mind once she entered the Great Hall. Vesperra arrived when most people were already seated, but that didn't stop her from being noticed.

It wasn't any particular design on the dress that got her noticed, though; it was just the fact that she was wearing it. She felt completely unlike herself, and those who saw her seemed unable to believe it was actually "Grease-perra" upon first seeing her.

"Bloody hell, isn't that…?"

"Merlin, why's she here? Didn't think _she'd_ come…."

"Hm… no date. I'm not surprised."

It seemed that everyone who knew who she was (who were pretty much scattered outside of the fourth years and Slytherins) was making some sort of comment as she hurriedly passed them, searching for an empty seat. Some were mocking, and others were simply shocked. Vesperra blatantly avoided even looking towards the table that was full of the other fourth year Slytherins, which she had caught sight of for a split second when walking in, for this was another one of the collective reactions she wanted to avoid for as long as possible.

Though a few others who had been late (fashionably or otherwise) were still coming in, even Severus easily noticed that Vesperra had just walked in. It should have been difficult, since he was no longer a few feet higher than the rest of the people in the Great Hall and therefore couldn't see over everyone even with a height of over six feet, but he had been watching the threshold and the flash of dirty blonde had caught his eye immediately.

_Well, I was right about the scowl._ Watching her (apparently frantically) search for a table with an empty seat, Severus also noticed several heads turn directly to her in shock. He smirked inwardly, knowing how out of character this was for someone like her…. Strangely enough, though, he felt that it rather suited her once he got past the fact that it was, indeed, a dress. From where he was sitting, he couldn't see much, but it didn't look _that_ weird, considering it was made of black material.

Glancing towards the table where the judges and champions (and their dates) were sitting, he briefly caught eyes with Dumbledore, who had, as Severus had expected, apparently been looking at Vesperra as well. The Headmaster's look was a slightly amused one.

Far down the hall from her friend (and not having seen him yet), Vesperra found a seat at a table mostly comprised of Durmstrang students and considered herself lucky: They were the only people she was sure were not going to taunt or mock her for anything, as they had only known her for a couple months now, and the single empty seat was really quite convenient.

The Durmstrang boys did seem a little shocked themselves, likely having deduced enough about her personality so far to understand that this was something she wouldn't normally have done, but they looked away and focused on talking with each other or looking around soon after she sat down.

Mere seconds seemed to pass before every last person was seated, and the others at Vesperra's table seemed unsure of what to do now. They all frowned down at their empty plates and hesitantly picked up the small menus that were sitting in front of each of them. After picking up hers, Vesperra took only a couple moments to understand what to do and scoffed inwardly at the others' confusion—Well, what else could there possibly have been to _do_? There were no waiters around, they had menus as opposed to the usual food appearing by itself, which was always cooked by the House Elves, it was a school of bloody _magic_ … really, it shouldn't have been all that difficult to figure out.

"Beef stew," said Vesperra clearly, yet not too loudly, down to her plate. A bowl of exactly what she had said appeared instantly, and the others dawned momentary looks of realization or mentally slapping themselves in the face before following suit.

If it weren't for the decorations and the fact that she was ordering her food directly instead of having to reach over things, it would have felt, for the most part, like a normal meal. This was a large part of the reason she had even come to the Yule Ball in the first place, as she had been starving since the nonexistent lunchtime, so it was even easier to just focus on what she was eating than it might have been otherwise.

But, ironically, this was one of the rare times that she didn't want to completely hide in her mind cave. Well, not for the moment, anyway. Vesperra took the time while she was eating to look around (still avoiding Malfoy's table, who she felt sure were staring at her and absolutely anxious to say something nasty to her face), particularly at the unofficial Staff Table for this evening—because that's where Severus was.

No one could have noticed or cared about the direction she was looking in, but Vesperra still made sure to look discreetly as a habit. Her friend was currently talking to no one, seeming to be doing the same thing she was: scanning the room. She remained looking directly at him until his eyes passed over her, not knowing whether he would notice her from this distance and angle—but he did. Their gazes locked for no more than a few seconds, though, and then Vesperra returned to sweeping her eyes across the Great Hall while Severus returned his focus to his plate.

The place was much more colorful than usual—which was all there really was to gather from looking around. Although, it was rather unusual to see the majority of the school in robes that weren't plain black, and for a moment Vesperra actually felt a little dizzy from her eyes hurting, after which she looked back down to her plate again.

Throughout the rest of the feast, which, for Vesperra, was a couple meat pies, some spiced chicken, a bit of French pasta that she didn't finish, and some treacle fudge for pudding, only one person tried to make any conversation with her, fortunately. The one who did was the same boy that had been the first one from Durmstrang to talk to her—Alec, she was pretty sure—and he had just mentioned politely that she didn't seem like the sort of person to enjoy parties of any sort and asked why she had decided to come. To that she had said, quite rudely, "None of your bloody business."

When everyone was finished eating, Dumbledore stood up from his seat, which immediately had everyone's attention, and asked them all to do the same. At once, Vesperra realized what stage of the ball they had reached, and she scowled while she obeyed with the rest of them. Waving his wand, the Headmaster caused all the tables to zoom back against the wall, and then conjured a raised platform along the right wall. This had Vesperra frowning curiously for a moment, but then when she noticed the instruments that were sitting on it, she realized: But it hadn't occurred to her before that Dumbledore would have booked a live band for the music.

Having never gotten into any Wizarding bands (or really, music at all), it was a novelty (that didn't necessarily mean good, though) for Vesperra to see the members of The Weird Sisters, as the logo on the drums said, troop up onto the stage from a chamber off of the Great Hall to overly enthusiastic applause. Like during the First Task, the cheering was annoying—even more so this time, as she had hardly even heard of The Weird Sisters before and didn't give a flying snitch about them. She apparently wasn't the only one who wasn't excited, though:

"The Veird Sisters…," came a rough, Slavic-accent voice from her right; Vesperra glanced over to see one of the Durmstrang boys whom she only knew by face, and who was folding his arms with slight contempt. "Hm. I am doubting they are as good as The Siberian Drums…."

And Vesperra was doubting that he spoke much English back home, or that 'The Siberian Drums' were very good either.

While The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune on their instruments and the champions began dancing with their dates, Vesperra backed up away from the rest of the crowd and pulled a chair out from one of the tables that had been moved back. She would have left right then, but she wanted to wait until there was room for her to make it to the open doorway that led to the Entrance Hall, and so she was stuck watching the champions open the ball and other people gradually join the dance floor.

For Severus, though, it had been over the moment that the tables had hit the wall. Unwilling to watch the dancing and very eager for the chance to leave, he had practically ran out the door and through the staffroom, making his way around the corridors to the Entrance Hall and outside to the grounds.

This wasn't unbeknownst to Vesperra, as she had seen him leave and was now even more eager to do so herself. There was no point in staying any longer if her best friend wasn't there, and she wanted to talk to him.

Once the slow song was finished, she was relieved (though watching Dumbledore waltz with Madam Maxime and Moody try to dance with Professor Sinistra was almost entertaining), but she still had to come up with some sort of escape plan that would get her out of the Great Hall without much chance of being seen. But then again, if she stayed in there too long, then there would be a worse chance of Malfoy or someone else getting to her first…. _Good Lord, this is feeling too much like some sort of spy mission._

Another song was struck up by The Weird Sisters, this one faster and much more modern-sounding—like Muggle music, almost. Currently inside her mind, Vesperra was thoroughly ignoring it, though she was still vaguely aware of it. And after a few seconds or so, she decided that the best thing she could do was edge along the wall and at the same time try to locate the people she wanted to encounter the very least.

Without hesitation, she stood up from her seat and did as she had planned, keeping an eye on all sides of her as well as she could. Her path led her straight past the drinks table, which was void of anyone she knew when she passed it, and at which she casually grabbed a bottle of butterbeer without stopping. _Can always keep this for later…,_ she thought vaguely.

But it was hardly another couple seconds later when she was greeted by the awful sight of a boy with platinum blonde hair, a pointed chin, and black velvet robes that made him look a bit like a vicar. Groaning inwardly, she continued walking, knowing that she wasn't going to get away (and she wasn't even going to attempt running, as she didn't want to be a coward or grabbed by one of Malfoy's bodyguards), and clutched her butterbeer tighter.

"Look who decided to show up, guys," drawled Malfoy, the malicious laughter in his voice distinguishable even over the loud music from The Weird Sisters. "I have to say, it's even more freakish than I imagined…. So, did you bring a date? I don't see Professor Snape anywhere…."

At his smirk, Vesperra's lip curled and her knuckles turned white. She glanced to Pansy, who was coming up right behind Malfoy and wearing a frilly dress of pale pink, smiling just as widely as he was. Crabbe and Goyle both looked like mossy boulders with their dark green dress robes and not any less intimidating than usual.

"I came for the food," she growled, staring directly into Malfoy's eyes with as much loathing as she could muster. It was strange what one would tell an enemy, but not a near stranger.

"I find it hard to believe that you would actually put on a dress just for some food…," said Malfoy, folding his arms and stepping closer to her—and she stepped back. "You've got to have been dressing up for _someone_—so you've either got a crush, or someone asked you to the ball. And someone will actually like you when Hagrid loses weight. So who have you got a crush on, Grease-perra?"

She found it almost hilarious that he should say that, but didn't let her face show it. Instead, she was too busy holding back the anger that had risen up at his ironically true accusation.

"Well, if Parkinson can like a cowardly, _ferrety_ wanker like you, Malfoy," Vesperra said smoothly, "then I don't think that you've got any place to talk bollocks and tell someone what's likely and what isn't."

That made him visibly angry, very fast. Both of them, actually—Pansy and her boyfriend had both gone pinker than her robes. Although, it had gone dark enough in the Great Hall that Vesperra could barely tell.

"Don't you _dare_ insult him, you—you _bitch_!" Pansy practically shrieked, but a bit quietly. There seemed to be no better word for her right now.

Vesperra's eyes widened slightly (in more amusement than anything else), and she glanced around for a second. She noticed that they weren't being interrupted or even noticed by any teachers, as they were all rather far away from that spot and either dancing or conversating with wine or some other alcoholic beverage in their hand.

Narrowing his eyes, Malfoy glared at Vesperra with extreme contempt and ignored his girlfriend. "Where did you even _get_ a dress like that, Grease-perra?" he asked with an edge added to his usual arrogant drawl, now clearly trying his hardest to hurt her. "I mean—Merlin, you'd have to have stolen it; it's way too expensive…." (_So you're an expert in fashion, then?_ thought Vesperra sarcastically) "And I still can't see you wanting a dress that badly. You realize showing off your breasts isn't going to make a difference in the amount of guys who like you or who'd even be willing to kiss you—"

Her arm had flown upward before she even knew what she was doing or was even aware that she had willingly let go of her control. And now it was too late to bring it back down—not that she wanted to.

"Kiss _this_," growled Vesperra, feeling oddly satisfied by that comment alone. But that was just the preamble that overlapped with the actual action; in one, quick swoop of a jab, she had punched Malfoy in the face, hitting both the side of his nose (which gave a small _crack _as it broke) and his upper cheek. There was a sudden pain in her right hand, but she didn't care—both because her anger was too great and because she was still busy with bringing her arm down to its full arc.

While Crabbe and Goyle scrambled to react, Malfoy let out a yell of pain that went unheard by most of the Great Hall and almost doubled over, and Pansy rushed to her boyfriend's aid, Vesperra was suddenly very occupied with the task of getting away without anyone in the vicinity noticing quick enough. The moment the punch was completely over, she had crouched slightly on instinct and darted away through the dim light, slipping through the crowd and shamelessly pushing people aside. Anyone who had been watching the scene from somewhere else in the room shouldn't have been able to see her—and if they did, they weren't likely to care, as most of the rest of the school hated Malfoy as well.

On her way out, Vesperra caught sight of something that put her brain on pause for a fraction of a second: Theodore Nott, who was wearing dress robes of royal blue, was standing not too far away from Malfoy and his group, and Tracey Davis, whom Vesperra assumed Nott had returned to with his mind "changed" about the ball (out of desperation? desire to make her jealous? politeness?—she couldn't be sure), was standing next to him. He was looking at Malfoy with a not-so-suppressed smirk, and then he managed to look over at her before he was completely out of her line of sight; for a second, Vesperra completely forgot about all that had happened between them and smirked as well, glad that he appreciated it.

_Fantastic,_ she thought as she hurried her pace and passed through the empty doorway, leaving Malfoy bloodied (hopefully) and soon-to-be bruised._ I got to punch Malfoy and say something clever before I did it all in one night…. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas._

* * *

Her inward smirk became an outwardly noticeable one when she saw the one other person who was in the Entrance Hall at the moment. Quickly glancing around to make sure no one else was passing through, she started a sort of jog toward his end of the hall.

Severus had only reentered the Entrance Hall a minute or so ago and hadn't been able to notice her even from his peripheral vision because of the direction he was faced, but he had heard the footsteps increasing in volume and pace and immediately turned around on instinct.

"Vesperra," he said quietly—but not necessarily as a greeting. It was just a confirmation to himself that it _was _truly his friend that he was looking at. For this was the first time he had seen her up close tonight, and up close was far different than otherwise, considering that she was in a dress. It still seemed fitting for her, though…. The sleeves went down to the middle of her hands and were almost loosely attached to the shoulders by frayed-looking threads, but Severus couldn't tell whether that was just part of it or if it was old. The skirt was hardly more poofed out than her normal robes were—and he couldn't imagine her wearing anything more extravagant than that.

Normally, he wouldn't have given a second thought to what anyone was wearing, but this wasn't something he could just get over in a heartbeat. In fact, because of it, it took him a moment to notice that she was holding a butterbeer in one hand and that the other… the other—

"Your hand's bleeding," said Severus, alarmed and worried, before Vesperra managed to get a spoken greeting out. He unconsciously started to step forward and move to gently grab her arm, but then his friend's slightly confused look turned back into a smirk as she looked at her bloody knuckles.

"Oh—yeah, I punched Malfoy in the face," she told him, letting out a breathy laugh. "I think that might be his blood—ah, no, I split one of my knuckles open on his stupid cheekbones," she said with a slight grimace, examining her hand.

Though still protectively worried about her hand, Severus couldn't help but smirk at how Vesperra could still be so blunt and… well, non-girly, even while wearing a dress.

"Looks like you've had a fun night so far, then…," he said. "Come on—let's go on a walk, and I'll fix your hand." Quickly but smoothly, he closed the distance between them with a single stride and placed a hand in between her shoulder blades, then started leading her toward the open doorway to a corridor off the side of the Entrance Hall. It was mostly to get out of there before anyone came out and saw them, but he also did fancy going on a walk.

Without saying anything else first, Severus took her right arm gently by the elbow and lifted it up, then took his wand out of his robe pocket and made a short little wave with it. In the next couple seconds, the small cut vanished and both her and Malfoy's blood was gone.

"Thanks," said Vesperra, though she was glad that his hand could return to the space between her shoulder blades now. She paused simply to spend the next few seconds in silence, where the only sound was that of their footsteps as they walked aimlessly and muffled music from The Weird Sisters in the distance, and she could look out the glassless windows at the fairy-light covered grounds. Taking a small breath, she said, "Have you been having a good night so far, then?"

"Depends on your definition of 'good,'" admitted Severus. "So far I've apprehended a Beauxbatons boy who was trying to take his date back to the carriage with him and accidentally stepped on a fairy. Not much else."

"So it's been pretty good, then?"

They were both silent and straight-faced for a second before exhaling sharply in laughter.

"Well, it's just gotten better…. So, what exactly did Malfoy do to make you want to punch him in the face?"

"He's always doing something that makes me want to punch him in the face—one of the prime actions being: being where I can see him. But tonight specifically… well, you don't want to know the details. I just wanted him out of my face, so I damaged his."

Unlike what any teacher should have felt upon learning that one of their students harmed another, Severus felt a bit proud. And also disappointed that he hadn't gotten to see it happen.

With nothing in particular coming to his mind to say to that, however, he was stuck at a brief standstill and was silent for a few seconds. It was a perfectly normal silence, just like the ones that always occurred—sometimes for much longer—when they spent a long time with each other, but he felt the need to fill it with something. Probably because there was something on his mind that he just really wanted to say.

"You look beautiful," said Severus seemingly out of nowhere, looking over and down at her. The look in his eyes was soft, and he was smiling slightly with his lips as well.

The comment surprised her, and it was enough that Vesperra automatically frowned, thinking she had heard him wrong—even after the event that should have taught her not to be so quick to think herself too physically unpleasant for praise. Snapping her head over to him, she saw his expression and knew at once that she had heard him correctly. And so she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know I don't need that sort of thing, Severus," she said seriously and almost annoyed. "You don't need to say things just because you're my friend, or because you don't think anyone else has told me that tonight."

Having expected a response like that (nothing else could come from Vesperra), he was only slightly frustrated. "_Has_ anyone told you that tonight?"

"Obviously not."

"I know you don't care about it, but you really are, you know. You don't even know how beautiful you are, and that's almost saddening at times."

Despite her apathy towards her appearance and nearly everyone else's, she couldn't help but feel the beginnings of the stirring feelings of flattery. It was a somewhat foreign feeling, as she had never been directly complimented on her appearance before—Nott didn't count, as that had been the result of much questioning and hadn't technically been a compliment. But it was also unpleasant, mostly because she was forcing it to be, and otherwise because she didn't want to feel this kind of vain, appearance-based flattery.

After a second's worth of staring at Severus, she returned her eyes to the front of her and muttered, "Shut up, Severus."

"I thought you cared about my opinion?" said Severus calmly. "I'm fairly sure you've said, at least once, that mine is the only one you care about."

"Well, yes, I did—and I do… but—"

"So it would be nice if you'd just accept it, because I'm not lying."

At that, Vesperra stopped walking, indirectly forcing him to stop as well, and turned to him. She needed the lack of motion to speak to him seriously, because she didn't know what her emotions were doing. "So… what is it, then—I put on a dress and that automatically makes me 'beautiful?'" she questioned, now definitely annoyed but for the wrong reasons.

"You look beautiful all the time," said Severus, completely truthfully, and also a tad desperately in order for her to understand it. "But you never seem like you want to be told that."

Her heart stopped very briefly. "What made you think I wanted to be told now?" she said stubbornly.

"I didn't. But it's Christmas, and it seemed like a good time. Is this you finally accepting it, then?"

_Damn._ She hadn't realized the implications of what she'd asked… but she suddenly didn't care all that much, either. Before she spoke, they resumed walking through the lantern-lit semi-outdoor corridor.

"Technically, I suppose," she sighed. "And… you look quite handsome yourself. As you do all the time, not just in those dress robes."

A smirk was shared between them as they both mutually and silently decided to change the subject. Severus couldn't be annoyed, as he had just done the same thing to her, but he couldn't help but wonder whether she was really telling the truth or if she was just saying it as a sort of revenge.

Either way, he had had to say that. He'd have been a little angry with himself if he hadn't—and Severus thought about all the times he had wanted to tell Lily how beautiful she was, both on the outside and the inside, but hadn't. He wished he had, even if it didn't make a difference with how he had ended up.

"Are you going to drink that butterbeer?" he asked after a second, looking down at her left hand.

She was about to frown in confusion, but stopped in mid-frown as she remembered; she had almost completely forgotten she was still clutching the bottle in her hand. And it was still cold—though the night wasn't. _Hm… odd. There must be weather charms affecting the school just for tonight._

"Why, do you want it?" asked Vesperra half-jokingly, holding it up so she could open it.

"No, just wondering. I don't suppose you would want to share, anyway," he said.

Honestly, she didn't. Severus could go to Hogsmeade and get a butterbeer anytime he wanted, while her only chances were Hogsmeade weekends—and now. Even if she had insisted that he could have it if he wanted, he would have stubbornly insisted that she keep it. So she tossed the cork to the side and started drinking it.

The brick wall of the inner part of the corridor and the scenery from the glassless windows passing them as they walked and talked were of no importance to them, and they were hardly paying attention to where they were going. Soon, the corridor came to a set of steps that officially separated it from the outside of the castle. As this was practically the very opposite side of the castle from the front doors, there were no benches or people around, and so they didn't turn and go back.

Both Vesperra and Severus were feeling that it was much more like their usual Christmas than before, and they were practically even glad about the Yule Ball—because they were actually able to just have a nice walk around the castle. At night. With the trees in the distance covered in frost but everything in a few hundred feet radius perfectly warm, and the bushes lining the path lit by fluttering fairies…. Okay, not exactly anything they'd have chosen, but it was still nice.

But, not too long after they had started walking on the path, there was a sudden, soft crunching of leaves behind them—which they probably would have ignored if not for the uttering of "Severus" in a man's voice a moment later.

Except the voice didn't make it through the whole name, because Vesperra automatically whipped around—a fraction of a second before Severus did—and had her wand out of her sleeve and in her hand in that time, too. They were both sufficiently surprised (though not so much for Severus after a second) to see that they were face-to-face with Igor Karkaroff, whom Vesperra immediately registered as an enemy. Half her mind was on being ready to curse or Obliviate him, and the other half was wondering how the man had managed to get so close to them without making noise until just a few seconds ago.

Karkaroff looked as though any purpose he had had was momentarily completely forgotten, for he was rather focused on the tip of Vesperra's wand as well as her face—likely wondering who she even was. Slowly, he raised his forearms a bit as an apparent sign of peace (or one of cowardly desire not to be cursed) and turned his frown to the man beside her.

"Severus… I vanted to talk to you…," he said carefully.

Steeling and calming himself at the same time, Severus looked from the slightly frightened man before him and then to Vesperra. Letting out a short, fake sigh, he reached out and gently pushed her hand and wand down, away from Karkaroff's face. Her head snapped around as she frowned up at him questioningly, but he ignored it for the most part as he said to Karkaroff,

"Apologies; she's a bit… _quick_ to pull out her wand." His voice was casual and much more polite than he normally would have used with Karkaroff—but the thing was, it was both him _and_ Vesperra that he had to trick right now. "Not that that's a bad thing…," he added with a hint of pride for her that he allowed to stay in his voice because it wouldn't matter in a few minutes anyway. Looking down at her, he noticed that whatever confusion she had had was gone and replaced by feigned calm—meaning that she had quickly realized the reason that he was acting strange: because he had a plan.

"Vesperra," he said quietly but firmly, "I'll deal with this. Go back inside the castle and wait for me in my office."

With a short, wordless nod, she moved away from his hand, which had still been between her shoulder blades, and turned back to find the nearest entrance to the castle, which was the door to one of the smaller towers. As she left, she was wondering desperately what Karkaroff could want with Severus, and was completely unaware of what the fact that she was going to wait for her friend to return to his office at so late a time meant.

* * *

Karkaroff watched Vesperra leave, and Severus watched his face with distaste. Once she was out of sight, the other man looked back to him uncertainly and hesitated to speak:

"Who is the girl?" he asked, pointing in the direction Vesperra had gone as he started following Severus, who had already started walking. The look on his face might have been amusing if it were any other situation.

"No one that concerns you," snapped Severus without looking at him. Aside from beginning to dread what his subconscious had practically decided to do for him, he was just plain annoyed that Karkaroff had interrupted the only time he had with Vesperra on Christmas. "Besides, you said you wanted to talk to me, so spit it out."

His previous decision to avoid the man altogether was giving him an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach (going against plans was always frustrating for him), but it was too late now. Severus had to wait for a good moment if he was going to Obliviate him properly, anyway, and so he couldn't simply get away right now. And he figured he might have a chance to get some information out of him while he could.

"I think you already know, Severus," said Karkaroff, sounding a little impatient, though also hushed, as he clearly didn't want to be overheard. It was good, at least, that he wasn't dwelling on the subject of Vesperra. "It has happened again—you know it, I know it, and _he_ knows it, vare-ever he is." The urgency in his voice was mingled with fear, and it was actually quite annoying.

"Do I?" he said silkily, almost enjoying it. "And does he?"

"I—yes, you do!" But Karkaroff actually seemed rather unsure of whether Severus did or not. That had always been one of the man's weaknesses as a Death Eater—he wasn't skilled in either hiding his emotions or reading other peoples'. If it wasn't enough that Severus was a master of Occlumency, anyway. "And I vood giff anything to be able to confidently say that he doesn't, but… who really _does_ know about him?"

Instead of replying or even starting to think of a good reply, Severus had his attention on the sides of the path they were on, which was becoming thicker and thicker with decoration and rosebushes, intertwining with the other winding paths that had been set up for the Yule Ball. He heard a soft giggle and frowned at once, looking towards the direction he was pretty sure it had come from, and then pulled out his wand.

Wordlessly, he fired a mild Reductor Curse into the offending rosebush, and out of it ran Jennifer Bauer and Caleb Anderson, both Slytherin fifth years, with a squeal and a shout. They only looked back once as they ran away, straightening their clothes. Severus refrained from taking any points from his own House and simply scowled in their general direction for a moment before continuing to walk and absentmindedly blast rosebushes apart. He was too focused on Karkaroff to be annoyed in particular about teenagers defiling the bushes, though.

"Certainly not you," said Severus stiffly. Another snogging couple then emerged from the rosebushes and started running back to the castle, and he took points from their respective Houses with a shout, afterwards returning to his conversation with Karkaroff as though it hadn't happened. "Nor I. I haven't worried myself about the Dark Lord for years, as I'm sure you haven't, either."

"Vell, I—" he started to hiss angrily, but then paused to let two more students run past. "_Vell_, I think it's time ve _start_ vorrying, Severus! You vere olvays the sort of man to look so calm about everything, but I know you're not—yours has stung too, I know it. Tell me honestly that you fear nothing of vot is to come—vot is to happen to the both of us ven the mark actually burns…."

Turning his head to face the man, Severus's look became more ill-natured. He knew Karkaroff wasn't at all worried about the _both_ of them—he only cared about his own safety, and the damn coward was trying to manipulate him.

"First, I will tell you that I do fear nothing. And second—'_When_?' Who's to say that it _will_ happen? …Listen, I'm sure you may have forgotten learning this since your childhood, but people that are dead tend to remain dead. Even since then, you should have learned that even Necromancy can't truly bring the dead back to life. The Dark Lord was killed by a rebounding curse thirteen years ago; so unless you are so cowardly as to fear a memory, then I don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" said Karkaroff, his voice more anxious than before. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it—"

"Then flee," he snapped curtly, aware that he may have very well admitted that he knew exactly what Karkaroff was talking about and even agreed that Voldemort was going to return. He wasn't sure if the other man was aware of this, though. "Flee—I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Just then, out of a rosebush that one of Severus's curses had blasted apart came two dark shapes whom were quickly revealed as they panicked and ran past him. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" he snarled. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" And then he caught sight of someone else (two someone elses, actually), at which he felt the familiar feeling of _Really? _This _happens again?_ "And what are you two doing?"

Potter and Weasley were the last people he wanted to see right now, but Severus supposed that was the reason why they had shown up. At least the feeling was mutual; the young pair didn't look very pleased to see them, either. Next to him, Karkaroff was winding a finger around the twist of his goatee nervously.

"We're walking," said Weasley shortly. "Not against the law, is it?"

The insolence heated his blood up to boiling point at once, and Severus had to restrain himself from doing more than scowling and clenching a fist. "Keep walking, then!"

And with that, he strode forward and brushed past them, briefly forgetting what he had been walking with Karkaroff the past several minutes for. But that didn't matter after the next few seconds, as the man had hurried after him. He made it to Severus's side again when he was starting to pass the front doors and the small area where a few couples were sitting on carved benches. After that, the paths lined by rosebushes continued in many other directions; Severus took the one that seemed to be leading most in the direction of Karkaroff's ship.

"Vell, you may be able to do that, but I cannot!" he said urgently and a bit angrily, catching his breath a little. "I cannot stay here at Hogwarts, I must leave vonce the tournament is over, and Durmstrang is not protected like this castle is."

"That's your problem, isn't it, Igor? I don't believe it is or ever was my job—_Obliviate!_" He had decided that there was no point in waiting any longer, for the conversation seemed to have been coming close to an end—and casting a curse (or in this case, technically a charm) in the middle of a sentence was always the best way to surprise a victim or enemy. And Severus couldn't afford to take a chance, however small it might have been, of Karkaroff realizing what was about to happen and fighting back.

For the few seconds before then, he had been blasting rosebushes to make sure that no students were nearby to witness this. Having been completely unprepared for that attack, Karkaroff was unable to make any attempt to protect himself and was completely dazed almost immediately. His eyes were glazed over, and his face was free of any emotion at all for the couple seconds it took to erase the desired memories from his mind—which was everything from whatever he'd heard from him and Vesperra to the end of their conversation moments before. Severus wasn't being particularly careful about the memories that would make it so Karkaroff's memory of Christmas evening didn't make much sense, as he didn't really care about the stability of that man's mind. Besides, he'd probably blame it on the alcohol in the morning.

Once it was done, Severus released the intense focus he'd been keeping on the Memory Charm and darted away at once, sure that he could get far enough away before Karkaroff managed to regain full awareness—especially when the man was faced the other way. And, just as he'd calculated, a swift speed brought him a rather good distance away in only ten seconds.

Sure that Karkaroff was now continuing on the way to the Durmstrang ship, Severus relaxed and walked normally (which was still quicker than most, though) for the rest of the way to the end of the path. Though he'd have liked to head straight to his office where a likely impatient Vesperra was waiting for him, he knew that he, as a teacher, had to be doing _something_ for the ball if not attending it for the whole way through. Midnight was, unfortunately, at least another fifteen minutes away…. Well, there were always rosebushes to blast apart.

When it seemed that, from what he could see and hear, the students were leaving the Great Hall, Severus was extremely glad to be able to reenter the castle and head down to the dungeons. He was halfway across the Entrance Hall, though, when he saw Dumbledore exit through the large doorway and decided, though reluctantly, that he ought to stay just a little bit longer. Upon seeing him, the Headmaster approached him as well, anyway.

"I haven't seen Karkaroff around here for about an hour…," said Dumbledore when he was close enough to be heard over all the noise, his blue eyes twinkling. "Was he with you, by any chance?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he replied somewhat bitterly (which caused his voice to come out slightly more nasally than usual), folding his arms and shifting slightly to stand directly to the side, but a foot away, from Dumbledore. "But not by my own choice. And what was said is something I'd rather not say with half the school in the same room."

The Headmaster's eyes widened slightly and very briefly, and then he gave a small nod to show that he understood, and that he would wait. So the two of them waited, looking to everyone else as though they were simply standing there to monitor the students and make sure everyone left the Great Hall and came back into the castle (which they _were_ doing). It wasn't until the last of the stragglers were coming in that they said anything else to each other.

"Well?" murmured Dumbledore, hardly looking or turning toward him at all to otherwise indicate that he was speaking to him. Severus didn't hesitate to answer, though.

"Karkaroff's Mark is becoming darker too. He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the Ministry after the Dark Lord fell." For a moment, he paused and looked sideways at Dumbledore's crooked-nosed profile, as he was delivering serious, even if not necessarily grave, news. "Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns."

He was sure that the old man had at least already guessed this, especially after hearing about what had gone on between Karkaroff and Lucius Malfoy (assuming Moody _had_, indeed, told him, which Severus didn't doubt for one second), but this was hard proof and confirmation.

"Does he?" said Dumbledore softly, apparently hiding whatever concern he had—and still not looking at him. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came into the Entrance Hall from the grounds just then, but he ignored them. "And are you tempted to join him?"

That question almost angered him enough to make him remain silent and just glare at Dumbledore for several seconds, but he didn't. Keeping his eyes on Delacour's and Davies's retreating figures, he said, "No. I am not such a coward."

"No," agreed Dumbledore, finally glancing just slightly in his direction and surprising Severus a little. "You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon…."

Without another word, Dumbledore walked away, leaving Severus both feeling and looking stricken.

* * *

**I'm so glad I finally got to do the Yule Ball. I don't know which part I liked writing more, though... Severus telling Vesperra that she was beautiful or Vesperra punching Malfoy in the face. Well, as far as headcanon events go, at least... because I was extremely excited to finally include a Prince's Tale scene.**

**Once again (in case you forgot the first A/N), I am taking a week off for school-related work and outlining this story. In the meantime, it would be awesome if you swamped me with reviews! :D Or at least get me past 200!**


	61. Book 4: Chapter 15

**Well, I'm back from my Spring Break (and studying, since the last of my mid-terms are tomorrow) with the new chapter! I won't give any spoilers, but there will be things in this chapter that you have bee waiting a while for. Enjoy!**

* * *

Impatiently waiting for the ball to be officially over and for Severus to come back, Vesperra reclined further into the couch. She was sitting long-ways, so leaning against the arm of the couch was slightly uncomfortable, but being able to have her legs stretched out after spending such a long time standing up and walking was worth it. Feeling slightly stiff, she stretched out as much as she could on the couch, arching back her neck and her waist upward until she felt a sort of satisfying _crack_. Several satisfying _crack_s, actually.

Part of her was then a bit relieved that Severus hadn't come back with her immediately, for she probably wouldn't have wanted to do that in front of him. Stretching was completely innocent, and she wasn't exactly self-conscious when it came to her best—and only—friend, but she imagined it would look a bit suggestive, especially with her wearing a dress.

Vesperra had almost come to forget that the dress was even there, actually. It wasn't itchy or particularly annoying—not any more than most clothes could be, anyway—or anything, and, having been alone with Severus for a while up until about twenty minutes ago, she had had no reason to feel uncomfortable or too exposed. Granted, it still felt rather unusual now that she remembered she was wearing it.

After extending her arms out in front of her and interlacing her fingers so that her hands could bend back and she could stretch her arms as well, she held up her right hand in front of her face, examining it out of boredom. And also out of somewhat fondness.

She closed her right hand into a fist and ran the fingers of her left hand over her knuckles, almost wishing that Severus hadn't healed them. Vesperra actually wouldn't have minded keeping a small scar on the knuckle of her middle finger (which stuck out rather farther and sharper than the others) as a sort of battle scar, however small and one-sided of a skirmish it had been. But, in spite of her usual dislike for fighting without magic, which was normally the one thing she could use skillfully and have to her advantage, she felt proud of herself for finally punching Malfoy. There was just _something_ about your fist flying through the air on a whim and hitting the other person's face one second later, and then stinging pain in your hand and their face and knowing that you broke something important and that it may have only been the face but you technically did hit their vital regions—which you couldn't get with a curse.

And she wouldn't have had time (nor would it have been a good idea) to curse him, anyway.

For the next lapse of twenty minutes or so, Vesperra simply situated herself comfortably on the couch, eventually finding that she was fine with the arm of it in the crook of her neck and the bottom quarter of her legs hanging off the other end—at which she also realized that she was still pretty short, at least in comparison to Severus. All the while, her mind flickered back and forth between vaguely wondering whether Malfoy had gone to Madam Pomfrey immediately and why Severus had told her to go back to his office instead of just back to her own dorm. After all, the ball didn't end until midnight— and they may not have spent as much time as usual together this Christmas, but he still generally didn't want her to stay at his office too late.

She supposed she'd find that out when he got back.

* * *

It wasn't exactly shock that overtook him, but just surprise accompanied with a very heavy feeling. Severus had remained standing where he was for at least another minute after Dumbledore had gone out of sight, both unable and unwilling to move. He just… couldn't figure out his emotions at that moment. Not even the nature of them. It was just a mess.

Dumbledore had never said anything like that before. The man had never once before directly said something _good_ about him, let alone called him brave—except, perhaps, one time before… many years ago, when they had first discussed the protection of Potter, and the old man had said "Never reveal the best of you?"… But this was different. Especially because Severus couldn't work out how he felt about this. Had anyone ever called him brave before? He racked his memories for any time that Lily might have said it, but, strangely enough, he couldn't remember whether she ever had or not. If the memory was there, it was hiding. And for who knows what reason.

And, of course, the "Sometimes we Sort too soon." Severus didn't need to think very hard at all to know what that meant, but he had to strain himself to figure out whether or not he agreed with it—and, if he did, whether or not he was angry with himself for agreeing with it.

_Should_ he have been a Gryffindor? He always loathed being called (or just plain _being_) a coward like many Slytherins were, but for some reason he had never classified himself as "brave." That was just something he associated with Gryffindors… the House that had held most of the people he hated as a child… but also the one person he had loved more than anything and still did. Ever since his mother had told him about Hogwarts as a young child, he had hoped to be in Slytherin, if only because the rest of the family had been. He had known about most Dark wizards and witches coming out of that House, but he had always figured it didn't really matter. He could _choose_ what he wanted to be; House didn't matter. And he had hoped Lily would be in Slytherin with him, since friendships between different Houses could be difficult.

But then, when Lily had been Sorted into Gryffindor, Severus had been devastated. Really, it had come as a bit of a surprise, because she would have fit Slytherin well. Clever, determined… except she was far from the sort of the person who'd lie or steal or cheat or hurt _anyone_ to get what she wanted, and she cared more about her friends than herself, and she was Muggleborn. So, from that moment until he had put on the Sorting Hat himself, a large part of him had shamelessly hoped that he'd turn out to be in Gryffindor just so he could be in the same House as her. But he hadn't.

Part of Severus wanted to be angry, simply that Dumbledore had insinuated that Slytherins couldn't be brave or good. Sure, it was rare, but being both brave (though he still didn't quite believe it) and on the good side didn't make him any less of a Slytherin. Then again, it was something almost heartbreaking, for it reminded him of all his mistakes. And at the same time, he was wishing desperately that he had ended up in Gryffindor.

He was internally torn apart for a few infinitesimal moments. But then, Severus realized that there was another person in his life and that said person was currently sitting on his couch in his office and waiting for him. He remembered that the reason she was in there was because he had told her to go there and that was because he had something to tell her… and he couldn't back out now. No, this was not going to be another one of those times where he seriously considered telling her everything but then decided not to because it wasn't a good time—because there had been too many of those times. This would be the time where he put everything on the line for the sake of being honest and doing what he should have done a long time ago—where he would put his fears aside and be brave, like Dumbledore had told him he was.

Severus wondered if the old lunatic had intended this. For him to realize that he _was_ brave, and that he _could_ face something as frightening as this. It was a pretty skewed (and risky, as it was on a chance that this had even come to mind) way of doing it, but it wouldn't have been the first time. The Headmaster was just the sort of person to do something like that.

And it did take bravery to set forth for what he had planned to do about an hour ago, to abandon every doubt and fear that had entered his mind prior to that night about this—to lift one foot off the stone floor and put it in front of the other, continuing to do so until he reached his office.

* * *

There was no preliminary knock, as the office belonged to him and could therefore be entered by him whenever he pleased. If he had had any reason to believe that Vesperra was changing into different clothes or doing something else that she wouldn't have wanted him to see, though, of course he would have knocked.

Although, he figured as he walked through the threshold and was greeted with the sight of Vesperra lying long-ways on the couch and smiling at him, perhaps he should have told her she go change back into her robes first, if she wanted: He had been gone a rather long time, and he didn't think she liked to wear that dress (though he still did think she looked beautiful in it). _Too late now._

"Sorry it was so long," said Severus as he made to sit down, first waiting for Vesperra to scoot up so that her legs weren't in the way of his spot. She settled her feet back on his lap after he did, anyway.

"It's fine," said Vesperra, adjusting the skirt of her dress so that it didn't ride up. It really wasn't much different from her normal wardrobe in that sense, since she had to do the same thing to her robes sometimes. Hell, even boys did. "So, it's technically not Christmas anymore. What did you want to talk about?"

_Damn, she came to that conclusion that quickly?_ Severus supposed he should have expected her to, considering how easily she figured things out, but the nature of what he "wanted to talk about" made him slightly nervous. Her expression was merely curious, though, so he doubted she had guessed the seriousness of it.

He was starting to feel the beginnings of the _Dammit, no, I can't do this_ sort of feelings, but he swallowed those down and tried not to appear scared or too nervous. It hurt, and the pain was clutching as his chest like death, but he forced himself with all his physical and mental strength to go on with it. It also felt awkward, like this was just a strange time to do it, like it wasn't dramatic enough (not that he wanted it to be), or like it was too on-the-spot—or not enough on-the-spot…. But Severus figured that nothing could have made this feel right. Although, it would feel wrong if he _didn't _do it.

With a sigh, he gently grabbed her ankles and set them beside him so he could shift himself on the couch. He turned toward her so that one leg was folded up on the couch, like he was sitting half-cross-legged, and so he could face her properly. In the moment before he said anything, she could only regard him with a slight frown.

"Vesperra, I know you probably weren't expecting something like… well, _this_, on Christmas," Severus began to say, looking at her directly in the eye. She seemed to suddenly sense that this was very important and serious, so she frowned more deeply and shifted her own legs so that she was sitting the same way—like a mirror-image of him. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, taking a deep breath and unable to believe that he was about to do this, but at the same time relieved…. "But I'm sure you're wondering what all that was with Karkaroff…."

"So that's what this is about?" It was a simple question, and also a stupid one—in her mind, for it was just asking for confirmation on something that had a very small chance of not being true. She was somewhat annoyed with herself for being unable to keep herself from saying it, but she was feeling a strange wariness in the situation. Severus was acting as though he had something horrible to tell her (and as though it was very difficult for him), but she couldn't imagine what it could have been if it had something to do with Karkaroff. If it was just news about Voldemort or his supporters, he would have said it the moment he had sat down.

Severus looked at her silently for a second. "Yes—well, sort of—it'll explain that. Listen, Vesperra, I…" He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply again. "This isn't easy to tell you. And I know you must be confused right now, but for this I just really need you to listen all the way through and not say anything until I'm finished. Is that okay?" Honestly, he didn't think he deserved to make conditions like that, to tell her not to interrupt him—but it was the only way he was going to give her the explanation she deserved.

_Okay, something's definitely wrong._ The pained look in his eyes as he stared down at her frightened her, but only in the way that she knew this was something extremely serious. And she didn't think it was on anything but a personal level, either. In fact, she felt sure that Severus thought this, whatever it was, was going to make her angry.

But she nodded. "Yeah, just… what is it, Severus?" Vesperra tried to keep her breath even as she frowned up at him, waiting.

Another deep breath and swallow. His heart was drumming in his ears now, and it didn't feel like it could ever stop. "Vesperra, I've… I've lied to you. I've _been_ lying to you since your first year—I—well, I've _kept_ something from you, but that doesn't make it any better." Severus dared to pause and look at her face, and it had so far only become a little more confused. He wished he could take it back and just stop, but he couldn't. The only good part about this was that, now that he was in the middle of it, it was easier to continue.

"I… I'm—I was—_shit_," he stuttered, unable to find the right words to say what he wanted to. _But,_ he reminded himself as he had before, _nothing is going to feel right. Although, I can honestly say that I _was_ shit, _he couldn't help but think. A deep breath. "Vesperra, I can't—this is…" _Okay, calm down._ "I… I told you once, that I made some mistakes with Dark Magic that I will forever regret, and which I don't want you to make." She nodded slowly, remembering. "My mistake was that… _I used to be a Death Eater_."

He was surprised with the lack of noise—not even a small gasp or swallow—from Vesperra, but not so surprised with the feeling of wetness on his cheeks and eyes, which he only tried to control because he needed to be able to see and speak clearly in order to explain the rest of this to her. But he gritted his teeth together, his jaw starting to shake with self-loathing, and took the several-second-long pause to just look at her, and gauge her reaction. Though he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

No words could accurately describe her expression. Severus couldn't tell what she was feeling, and he highly doubted that she could, either. Her face was hardened, but at the same time her jaw was slackened, and her lips twitching as though they were about to curl upward for her to laugh in grief, and her brow was only slightly furrowed.

Vesperra couldn't believe what he had just told her, but it was sort of disbelief that actually _did_ sink in. It had definitely come as a shock, but the tears beginning to stream down her friend's face and the trembling in his voice made her completely sure, the moment he'd said it, that it was true. She felt very strong pain in her chest, but she didn't think, for some reason, that it was of betrayal or from having been lied to. In fact, she was almost sure it was the pain of shock, and also that of sympathy for reasons she didn't yet know. And possibly also confusion.

Her best friend, whom she'd been plotting _against_ Voldemort with for the better part of her time at Hogwarts so far… a former Death Eater? That seemed horribly ironic. Although, at the same time, several things suddenly made more sense…. There was something bubbling up inside her, but she couldn't be sure that it was anger just yet. And considering how much _she_ kept from _him_, the only thing she could _really_ be angry at him for was the fact that her not knowing about this could have hindered their progress with discovering who had put Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire.

Just as he had asked her to, though, she remained silent and voiced none of the many questions now running through her mind. Vesperra just waited for him to continue—and he did, but not in the way she thought he would:

Instead of saying more just yet, Severus looked sadly down at his left arm and, hating himself for ever getting the stupid Mark, for keeping this from her for so long—for everything, held it out. With a slightly shaking hand, he pulled up the sleeve to his elbow and showed her the gruesome mark on his forearm: a skull with a snake protruding from the eyes and mouth and looping around itself.

"That… I took the Dark Mark… when I was nineteen. Nearly everyone else in my House and year all became a Death Eater as well, and I didn't honestly believe all of that about Muggleborns being scum, but I had been tortured all my years at school and—_and _I_ wanted the power for once…._ And I was up to my knees in the Dark Arts, and I was sucked into it—no, I let myself get sucked into it, because I was too weak to try to fight it, and I was just a bloody stupid teenager—I didn't know what I was getting myself into…. People make some pretty stupid mistakes when they're teenagers."

The tears were still falling, though slowly, and it was becoming more and more difficult for Severus to speak like he normally would. Vesperra was staring down at the Dark Mark in front of her, which was now actually quite visible, appearing to be etched in gray. He couldn't see her face, for it was hidden by her hair, but he could see that her hand was moving slowly, seemingly absentmindedly, for his forearm. Inhaling sharply, he jerked his sleeve back down and let his left arm fall back onto his leg. He didn't know why, but he just didn't want her to touch it—perhaps he was afraid of it causing him pain, or he felt that it would somehow make a connection from her to Voldemort.

At that, she whipped her neck up sharply to look at him with a slightly alarmed expression, which turned to understanding… and she still remained silent.

"It was the worst mistake of my life, Vesperra," Severus admitted quietly. "I hated myself—I _hate_ myself—for ever becoming a part of it, and I hate that it won't go away…. But I hate _him_ too—the Dark Lord, and I want him destroyed. I want it all to be over. That's why I became a spy for Dumbledore before the war ended. That's why I work here. And… after I met you… I saw a young girl who was very prone to making the same mistakes, to becoming what I became, whether she tried to or not…. And I know now that you won't do that, because you're stronger than I was… but that's not the reason I haven't told you until now. I am just… so _ashamed _of it, I couldn't bear… I couldn't bear to tell you about that part of my past, because I didn't want you to think badly of me, and I was just—so—_afraid_, and I just _couldn't_…. But—but you deserve to know." His voice began to calm down, and he inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, because he couldn't say the next part while looking her dead in the eyes.

"So… if you hate me, if you want to yell at me, or punch me, or throw something at me, or even just leave and never come back, you can go ahead," he told her. Strangely enough, his voice wasn't shaking now, but was instead quiet and soft and utterly numb. "I'm not going to stop you. You don't deserve to be lied to, and I completely understand if you don't want to deal with someone who knows you for four years and doesn't tell you one of the biggest parts of his life—"

Severus promptly broke off when he felt Vesperra's closed fist hit his arm, hard. He thought at first that it was the beginning of her hits and yells as his punishment, and was prepared to take it all, but he was surprised at the next thing he heard.

"Shut up, Severus," Vesperra finally said, scowling. That was the second time that she had said that that night—though the other time had been for a completely different reason. His eyes widened in slight shock. "Don't you _dare_ think, for one second, that I am going to just get up and leave, abandon you…." _Damn, now I've started crying._ "I could hit you, yes—I could _definitely_ hit you…. But I'm not going to. Not again, anyway. And I could _never_ think badly of you, are you listening to me? Never."

She had moved forward and grabbed the face of an emotionally torn and confused, yet relieved Severus with both hands. Her palms against his cheeks, she pulled his head slightly so that he was looking directly at her and stared directly into his eyes, which were rimmed with red from crying, with a pained look on her face.

"Dammit, Severus, I can't even believe… how hard it was just to tell me this. I probably would have put it off longer if it were me. Hell, who _could_ have told their friend something like that right away?—even if it would have been helpful and the logical thing to do…. Someone with normal levels of mental stability wouldn't have been able to do that so easily."

With that, she let go of his face and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her cheek into his. Vesperra thought she might have heard Severus let out a whimper of relief as he hugged her back, his arms just as tight around her.

"You're… you're _not_ angry with me, then?" he whispered, his voice sounding very strange and oddly pitched due to the pain in his throat from both crying and holding back tears.

"A bit," she sighed. "But I can't help it, and I know that a normal person wouldn't be, so that makes all the difference."

To that, Severus almost laughed. "Actually, I think a normal person would have gotten angry first and then thought about it second. I…. Thank you. For not hating me."

"Like I said, I could never hate you." Vesperra then let go of him and slid back to where she had been sitting, though still facing him directly. Her expression was soft now, her eyes slightly red, and her brow only slightly furrowed again—but that was only out of habit. "So… what does this mean, then?" she said seriously, realizing that this was not simply a long-kept secret that he had finally told her, but also something very important and very significant in the inevitable return of Voldemort.

After a pause, Severus sighed, recognizing that this was where the confession and apology ended, and where the serious conversation began. He hadn't known before whether this would even happen, as there had always been the chance, in the back of his mind, of Vesperra leaving…. But she hadn't, and so they were moving on to this. And he wasn't sure whether he was glad or not about that.

"Well… first, it means that Karkaroff wanted to talk to me about his Dark Mark stinging—which mine has been doing as well, throughout the year. Since summer." He supposed that needed a bit of an explanation…. "Back when the Dark Lord was still powerful, he would summon us through the Dark Mark. It would burn, and we would Apparate to his side. But it hasn't really been burning… it can't do that quite yet, because he doesn't have a body right now. It's just been stinging, and the stings are quick, and each time it's gotten just a bit darker—Dumbledore and I are sure it means the Dark Lord is taking a steady return, and that the Mark will be at its darkest once he actually returns. Karkaroff has been constantly trying to talk to me about this, but I've avoided him most times. Tonight, he told me that he plans to flee if it burns, and I Obliviated him soon afterwards so he won't remember seeing you with me or any of our conversation."

The explanation about the Dark Mark burning was rather strange to hear from Severus's mouth. Vesperra wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to him talking about having been a Death Eater. "Alright, that explains Karkaroff… and—hold on, that explains Moody, too!" In realization, her eyes widened slightly and she looked directly at him. "That's why he doesn't like you. He still doesn't trust you—he never believed that you really switched sides, did he?"

"No… he didn't." Severus frowned to himself, cocking his head to the side and trying to push thoughts of Moody away. He didn't want to get angry. "I can't honestly blame him. The man's cracked; he thinks everyone's out to kill him unless they give him a reason to think otherwise."

"How many people _do_ know about it, then?" asked Vesperra. "You being an ex-Death Eater, I mean."

"The entire staff, likely all of the children of other ex-Death Eaters, everyone who works in the Ministry of Magic, and who knows how many others…. I can't tell you how many of those people actually trust me, but I know that Dumbledore and most of the staff do. Still, a lot of the other teachers are afraid of me, and now you can guess why."

Vesperra almost let out a laugh. "Hm. And all this time, I thought it was just because of your all-black wardrobe and scary demeanor."

"Well, it's that too." He smirked, and she smirked back. For a second, it felt like everything was completely normal between and around them, but then reality swirled back into vision, and Vesperra realized that she had another important question.

"So…," she began slowly, "if your Mark is gradually getting darker and stinging as it does, then we'll know the _exact_ moment that You-Know-Who comes back, right?" He nodded, having a feeling he knew where she was going with this. "Well, what are you going to do when that happens?"

Oh, he hated to answer that. Almost as much as he hated the truth of what the answer was. With a deep, but steady intake of air, he said, "I'm going to have to go back to him. I'll have to convince him that I'm still loyal to him, and then I'll have to act as a spy to give information about the Death Eaters to Dumbledore. Basically what I did the first time after I switched sides, but more dangerous." Damn, he really shouldn't have included the fact that it was dangerous. _But isn't it better to be honest, so she knows what her friend is getting into?_

There were a few seconds of silence in which Vesperra simply stared at Severus, her teeth absentmindedly gritting together but her breath relatively even. He was unable to discern whether she was worried or angry.

"_Merlin,_" was all she could say after that time to sum up her feelings. Her face was contorted into one of grief, despite not having really lost anything yet, and she looked at him in a way that seemed almost sadly proud. "Severus, you are the bravest man I'll ever know." The words hit him like a cold towel being whipped at his face—not painfully, though, but more like something to wake him up. He didn't know how to feel. "I don't ever intend on getting to know that many people, but…" Her voice then dropped to almost a whisper. "My God, Severus, you're… you're ready to go straight back to the man you used to work for and risk everything and lie to him again and…. That's… that's just pure bravery."

Even considering all else that it meant, Vesperra couldn't help but be in awe of Severus. And even considering all that both of them had ever said about bravery, she felt proud of him.

In risking everything, though, that included his life. Who _knew_ what would happen once Voldemort returned? It would be the beginning of chaos, that was for sure… and the beginning of a war. There was no doubt in her mind that it would take some time to destroy that man—if you could even call him a man, and that would, of course, require a resistance and what you could call "battles." Perhaps she had listened to her Muggle father talk about war too much as a small child, but she knew how this worked, Muggle or Wizard or otherwise: People died, and… and that could include Severus, once this started. _No, don't think like that, stop it…._

But how _could_ she stop it? Vesperra had known for quite a while that things were going to get very bad very soon, but she had never thought that there was a fair chance that she could lose Severus in it. After all, he would have to pretend to be a Death Eater, which meant he'd be fighting, and he'd have to be around Voldemort, a twisted, power-hungry psychopath….

"Who said I was ready for it?"

Severus's words startled her; she had been too deep in her own mind, and the sudden noise a few seconds after she had called him "brave" punctured the walls that had gone up on their own.

"W—?"

"I didn't say I was _ready _to go and face him, Vesperra—I said that I have to," said Severus, his voice suddenly firm. "And I sure as bloody hell don't want to risk everything, least of all you, but I _have_ to because it could eventually mean the destruction of the Dark Lord. Because it'll mean a world where that bastard's gone, and you're safe."

That time, his words surprised himself. For the past thirteen years, he had known that he was going to have to protect Harry Potter when it came down to it, and that meant returning to Voldemort when he had to, and that it was all for Lily. To make sure she hadn't died in vain. But now, he realized that it wasn't that black and white anymore. Severus didn't only want to make it up to Lily, nor did he only want to avenge her by destroying Voldemort: He did, like Dumbledore, want to make sure the world was a safe one to live in. He didn't want to end up a slave or live at all in a "new world order," and he most certainly did not want Vesperra to have to live in that. _This_ was what he wanted—for her to be safe.

A large part of her had the urge to hug him again, but for some reason she kept herself from doing it. Maybe she just wanted to keep eye contact.

"That's still bravery," Vesperra told him after a few seconds, somewhat breathless. "You're not planning on running away from what you're afraid of, not like Karkaroff…. Because that's what it is, isn't it? Doing something in spite of fear… And, you know, you once told me that bravery is just a nicer word for stupidity, but there's a difference when it comes to things that really matter. I'll be honest, Severus, I'm scared to hell of this." In the middle of that, her voice had cracked, but she only paused for a split-second in surprise. "A thousand times more than before, now that I know what part you're going to have in it. I don't want you to go out there and risk your life, especially not for me, because then…"

They both knew that she had no intention to finish that sentence. Its ending was obvious to Severus, anyway: _because then you'll have died because of me._

As though acting on the urge of the person across from him, Severus leaned forward and practically engulfed her in a tight hug, a few more tears squeezing themselves out as he did. He could tell from the sudden wetness of his own neck that she had started crying again too. _Blast all, it's Christmas, and I've got her feeling like this—and I've got _myself_ feeling like this…._

"Hey, hey…," he whispered softly, rubbing her back soothingly and leaning back into a normal sitting position while he continued to hug her, "don't… don't think like that. What's coming will come, but there's not much we can do about it right now. There's always the small possibility of actually preventing it…. But if and when it's too late, which I assure you will _not_ be terribly soon, you have to remember that it won't be only me. Dumbledore will have a plan, and I hope you have come to realize in the years that you've known me that I am not an idiot. I'm a competent wizard and I know how to survive—I know Occlumency. How do you think I kept secrets from the Dark Lord all those years ago?"

_Oh…_ The Occlumency and Legilimency abilities had not crossed her mind yet tonight. It now made a lot of sense as to why it had been necessary for him to learn them, and it also filled her with immense relief. Knowing that Severus had skills in the art of shielding your mind to rival Voldemort himself (that's what it sounded like, anyway) was extremely comforting, and she felt considerably less afraid of him meeting his end because of the chief Death Eater.

He took her silence for an internal realization and continued to rub soothing circles on her back. In the next few seconds and without warning, Vesperra shifted her legs and arms so that she could sit relatively normally next to him, though still leaning against him and hugging his chest. It was a little difficult to do without making the skirt of her dress ride up and accidentally giving Severus a full view of her underpants, but she managed it.

And then there was more silence.

Neither of them cared that neither of them were saying anything, for neither of them really had anything to say. Well, there were definitely plenty of things to say, but neither of them felt like saying them. Eventually, though—

"What was it like being a Death Eater, Severus?" Vesperra asked, seemingly out of nowhere but with a voice so soft, partly because of it being muffled by Severus's robes, that the noise on its own wasn't startling. She could, however, feel his surprise in the twitch of the arm that he had around her, so she went on, "What did _you_ do particularly as a Death Eater, I mean…. I'm sorry, I was curious." She really couldn't help but find the whole thing just as interesting as she did frightening, but she wasn't going to word it that way.

_Oh, well I suppose it's not too bad of a question to answer, then…,_ thought Severus, having been reluctant to describe the Death Eater lifestyle to her. "Well," he started to tell her, "I made him potions. Sometimes they were to keep him healthy, sometimes they were for other Death Eaters who were a high priority, and sometimes they were poisons for enemies." Vesperra automatically thought of the poison she had brewed for Damien and stopped breathing for a moment, and she wondered if she should tell him about it. But Severus hadn't noticed anything strange about her, so he'd continued talking and left her without room to say anything anyway. "But for the most part I was a spy. Though a lot of it _was_ in Britain, I did often travel to other countries to get information…. Half the time it was sneaking around and listening at doors, and the other half it was Legilimency. I was called for battles when it was necessary, though that wasn't very often…. And, as far as I know, I have never killed anyone. Not directly or purposely, anyway. I was actually probably one of the only Death Eaters that never has, if not _the_ only one… which is quite ironic, since I was probably the man the Dark Lord trusted the most."

His story ended there; it was marked by the sudden change in his breath rate, which Vesperra could feel under her ear and hand, if not by the lack of noise coming from him. She supposed that she should have been glad to hear that her friend had never killed anyone, but she couldn't. The pure irony of the fact that Severus, who had been a _Death Eater _(and Voldemort's favorite no less), had never killed anyone directly, but she _had_, was laughing in her face and eating away painfully at her. Sure, his poisons had likely been used to murder people, but he had only done it because Lord-_bloody_-Voldemort had told him to. Vesperra had once brewed a poison in which she had in no way been _truly_ obligated to, knowingly doing it for the purpose of a murder. It felt like the sort of thing she should tell a man who had just poured his heart to her and told her of his past as a Death Eater—but she was already feeling so tired….

And Severus's robes were feeling pretty soft right now.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the silence, Severus was basking in the relief of finally having gotten it over with. Well, not _all_ of it—he had only gone through the Death Eater story, for he had thought that it was enough for one night and that she did not need to be told of Lily just yet…. But then it hit him, like a second cold towel whipping at his face.

_Shit, I'm a bloody idiot._ Severus's eyes shot completely open, but the rest of him didn't move, which was out of concern for Vesperra. But he wanted to hit himself over how _stupid _of an idea it had been to tell her only about his past as a Death Eater and nothing more, leaving a bigger story that linked _so much_ with the story he had just told to be left for later…. _I am going to be in a bloody shit-storm._

_How_ could he have decided that, and _why_ was the reality of it only coming to him now? _Merlin, am I mentally cracked?_ He must have-_fucking_-been, because there was no other explanation for it. Of course, this didn't come as such a large surprise, and he could think of several explanations as to why his irrationally-thinking mind would have decided to do that (or possibly even forgotten about the other story altogether?), but he was still furious with himself.

At his shock, his brain had at once decided how to fix his idiotic mistake, and the words "Vesperra, there's something else I need to tell you," were on the tip of his tongue, ironically very ready to come out in spite of how much he had dreaded saying anything of the sort for a long time—but before he could do anything but begin to press his tongue to the top of his mouth, the necessary reality check his brain had taken forced him into continued silence: Severus had realized, in the split second before he had been about to say that words that would change everything (_again_, for the second time that night), that the rise and fall of Vesperra's chest against him was very calm—too calm for her to be awake.

He didn't know whether he was angry at himself for not having waited until it was daytime to tell her anything or if he was relieved that he now had an excuse not to continue.

_Damn…_ Well, it was past one o'clock in the morning, so she'd be too tired to stand up for more than a minute or so, let alone be able to retain anything he told her. There was no point in waking her up to talk to her… nor did he want to. Even in a matter as important as this, he would not have dared wake her up even if there was a good chance that she'd be fully awake when he did, actually. So he remained still and silent, absentmindedly rubbing the back of the unconscious Vesperra leaning against him.

But only a few minutes later, which Severus had tried not to spend mentally beating himself up but instead just letting his mind wander, he decided that they couldn't just spend all night like this. Sure, there had been a night a while ago where Vesperra had fallen asleep on top of him, but she was sitting upwards now. He wouldn't be able to turn his body much around to lie down without waking her, and he couldn't help but think of her comfort and how her neck and back would probably hurt in the morning if she were to spend all night leaning against him… not to mention his own. He was, after all, older, and so his bones were stiffer by principle.

Figuring that it would be more convenient for the both of them, he slowly shifted himself on the couch, trying not to alarm her enough to wake her up just in case she wasn't in quite a deep sleep. Carefully, Severus moved Vesperra's left arm, the hand of which had been lying directly over his heart, off of his chest so that he could gently push her arm and turn her a little bit over. Every few seconds or so, he paused to make sure that she wasn't waking up, and eventually he was able to scoop her up in his arms and walk back to his bedroom.

Severus laid her down on the bed and then walked around the edge so that he could briefly kneel on it as he grabbed the sheets bundled at the other side and pulled them over her. It required him to maneuver his legs a little awkwardly, and when he nearly tripped over his own arms, he decided to just sit there for a second, one arm propping him up as he closed his eyes. His own tiredness was getting to him, and all he needed was a moment to shut his eyes and refresh himself before getting up again and going to the couch… his head was hitting the soft mattress, alright, a quick lie-down couldn't hurt… but he found himself not getting up, and he was lying down facing the wall with his head barely touching the edge of the pillow and he was falling into oblivion...

* * *

It seemed that no time at all had passed when Severus next found himself lying in his bed, feeling at first entirely normal except for the odd extra weight around him…. _Oh._ He quickly realized that his right arm was out to his side, as it often went when he slept, but it was wrapped around Vesperra's waist and hugging her to himself. And the crook between his nose and forehead was pressed against the back of her head.

The first thing he felt was panic, but it was internalized, for he remained just as still as before, still holding Vesperra like a… _Oh Merlin._

Several thoughts ran through his mind, most of them questions and all the rest nonsense. _Good Lord, we didn't—? _That was the first full thought to occur to him, but he was luckily able to assure himself that such a thing was impossible, as he had just remembered the reason they were both in his bed. But then the torrent of everything else came—_How could I have let this happen, how the _hell_ did I even end up like this, I'm absolutely sure I was lying on the other edge and facing the other way when I fell asleep… Merlin, _why_ did I have to fall asleep right there…?_

Though he and Vesperra had technically fallen asleep in a more intimate way before, this didn't feel right. It just didn't feel right or appropriate to him, if only for the sole fact that it was a bed, not a couch. But at the same time, he didn't want to wake her up, and part of him actually _didn't _want to let go of this, for some insane reason…. He just didn't know what to do. He was scared out of his mind—and for more reasons than anyone would think.

Without moving his head or craning his neck, Severus looked to the clock and saw that it was relatively early—early enough that he sincerely doubted anyone who had attended the Yule Ball, especially not any of the staff members who had drank, were awake yet. It was just his own internal clock that kept him awake when a normal person shouldn't be, as though it ran according to everyone else's internal clock…. But he knew Vesperra's was like that, too. And so he knew it wasn't all too unlikely for her to wake up soon, at which she would find herself with his arm wrapped around her, and—

_Oh bloody hell no, no,_ _I am not going to let that happen._ Panicking again, Severus forced his mind to pick one side and finally made to carefully slide his arm away from her, hoping very badly that he didn't wake her up in the process (or that she was actually only pretending to be asleep at the moment, for that would have been a hundred times worse). He could have stated several reasons why he did not want her to know that he had accidentally fallen asleep like this, most of which he also would not have wanted to say to her face if she were to wake up and realize what he was doing.

It was a great relief to soon be standing at the edge of the bed and seeing Vesperra still sound asleep, one arm folded around her head and resting on the pillow with it and the other hanging off the edge of the bed…. Severus continued looking at her for no longer than a second before returning to his office, not minding that he was still in his slightly dressy robes from the night before. However, he then remembered that his friend was still in her Yule Ball dress, which he immediately recognized as a problem: It would be near impossible for her to return to her dorm, to get to which she'd have to pass through the Slytherin Common Room, without being bombarded with questions. And likely many taunts, as well. Who knew what conclusions Malfoy and the others would have jumped to if they saw Vesperra still in her dress…?—Well, actually, Severus knew exactly what sort of things they'd come up with, and he honestly wouldn't have blamed them. It would have been highly suspicious, especially as the truth was less likely than any of the other possible theories.

Not wanting any of this to happen to her, Severus quickly had an idea and fished his wand out of his robes pocket. Wordlessly, he summoned a set of Vesperra's robes from her dorm, which he was sure wouldn't be seen by many people if any as they zoomed out of her dorm and under the Common Room door, and then under his door—and right into his hand. He set those aside on the office couch for when she woke up, and… hm. Everything was settled, then.

The only thing he could think to do now was to make some tea and have it ready for when Vesperra woke up, at which he would thank her again for forgiving him about the long-kept secret and all the while feel guilty about the other secret, which he would continue to keep for long.

* * *

Unlike how she had expected, the feeling (she wasn't sure if she could necessarily call it shock or surprise) of knowing that Severus used to be a Death Eater became less of a consciously strange one and more of something that was casual, settled in. It felt almost as though she had known forever…. That may have been because she truly didn't hate that part of him, like she knew any normal person would have. Any truly negative feelings she had about the situation, as she had realized a few days later, were only those of resent for not having been able to talk to him about his Dark Mark acting up before. Because she knew, without having to look deep at all, that she would likely have become a Death Eater if she had never had him in her life.

Vesperra was sure that Severus must have felt extremely relieved to finally be able to confide in her about everything now, since he had spent the few days after Christmas to tell her all that he could—and while he normally would have been at his gravest, she had indeed noticed a hint of some sort of contentment or something or other in his voice and face as he'd spoken to her.

Aside from this new development in both their friendship and in their search for answers (more than answers, Vesperra was hoping), the rest of the Christmas break was rather uneventful. Except, perhaps, the morning a couple days after Christmas that Malfoy had announced (or actually, whispered loudly to those surrounding him at the Slytherin table), that he had given an interview to Rita Skeeter and that they could all be expecting "a late Christmas present—even Grease-perra'll like it!" sometime soon. She didn't know what to expect, but she knew that she hated the idea of Malfoy and Skeeter corresponding….

And as for Malfoy's sock to the face from Christmas evening, Vesperra was almost disappointed to see that he didn't seem to be taking it as a personal insult, so he wasn't constantly glaring in her direction, nor did he complain about it or even mention it again. His face had been completely back to normal on the afternoon after Christmas (she hadn't gone to breakfast, but instead stayed with Severus), so she figured that he had probably gotten Madam Pomfrey to fix it soon after he'd gotten it. This seemed like odd behavior for her enemy—or at least it had at first, before Vesperra realized _why_ he was acting (or lack thereof) like this….

Malfoy clearly didn't want people to know (or remember, for those who had actually seen it) that he'd been hit by a _girl_. Vesperra could see how that would be humiliating, especially since it had been in front of his girlfriend and in the middle of a ball… and oh, how satisfying it was to know the extent of that git's humiliation. She could only wonder whether he wanted everyone including himself to forget it because she was a _girl_, or because she was simply herself. Not that she was going to ask.

But soon enough, the new term began and classes were to start up again, things hardly feeling like they'd changed much at all over a course of two weeks. After all, hardly anyone had left the castle.

On the morning of the start of term, Vesperra was able to tolerate a somewhat okay breakfast until the hundreds of owls delivering letters and packages swarmed in and swooped over the House tables, which was normally not too distracting or annoying—but it was what Malfoy was delivered that disrupted her.

She hadn't even been looking or cared at first, but about a minute after the sound of the unfolding of a newspaper came a loud "Ha!" It was sudden enough to make her glance at him in alarm, and moreso with everyone else in the immediate area. Malfoy didn't say anything else for several seconds, but instead held the _Daily Prophet_ to his face, likely grinning behind it. And then,

"Oh, this is excellent," he said wickedly, with a laugh in his voice that Vesperra really didn't like. "This is perfect. I'm loving this."

What made Vesperra even more curious than those comments was the fact that Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy were all sniggering like they knew exactly what he was talking about, though everyone else was just as confused as her. This had something to do with what Malfoy had said about giving Rita Skeeter an interview, she was sure….

"If you're going to tell us anytime soon what the hell you're talking about…," huffed Daphne shortly, sounding just as annoyed as Vesperra felt. Almost at once, Malfoy looked up from the newspaper and smirked.

"I'm glad you asked," he drawled smugly. Drawing up the _Daily Prophet_ a bit higher and straightening it in his hands, he cleared his throat dramatically: "You guys are going to love me so much after this…" (_Highly doubt it,_ thought Vesperra, though paying attention as she absentmindedly ate her cereal). And then he read in a sort of loud whisper, sounding as though he didn't want anyone sitting at the other House tables to hear.

_**DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE**_

_Albus Dumbledore, eccentric headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. _

"—Got that bloody right…," said Malfoy, cutting off there for a moment. A couple others nodded and snorted in agreement with that commentary, and most of those who didn't were staring at him intently, waiting for the rest of the article—for it so far made no sense. "Anyway…," Malfoy went on,

_Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures. _

_Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates. _

_An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."_

"_I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."_

Malfoy' voice seeped with pride as he quoted himself in the article, filling Vesperra with disgust. He seemed to be reading it as dramatically as possible, allowing pauses for both himself and all the others to snigger while Vesperra just glared. It was clear what this was about and what his intentions had been now, and she found her enemy's lies and cowardly exaggeration despicable, however much she was hoping for the same thing to come out of them.

_Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions._

"_I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject._

_As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not—as he has always pretended—a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown._

_Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last part of the century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror._

_While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature._

_In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought about You-Know-Who's fall from power—thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend—but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants._

Malfoy ended there, emphasizing that it was over by immediately folding the _Daily Prophet_ down with his thumbs and then slapping the whole thing down on the table with both hands, grinning maliciously around at the laughing and smirking table. "Well, you can all thank me for making sure we won't ever have to deal with that oaf again!"

None of them actually did utter a legitimate thanks, but Pansy was still shrieking with laughter, and even Nott and Blaise were sniggering appreciatively.

"Oh, thank _Merlin_—we won't have to face any more of his vicious beasts, either!" said Daphne, making a small fist-pump in celebration. "But hold on—are you sure Hagrid'll have lost his job? I mean, Dumbledore must have known he was a half-giant and not cared about the bastard nearly killing all of us…."

Malfoy turned and craned his neck to look at the Staff Table, at which Hagrid was making himself extremely noticeable by not being there. "Dumbledore's never been forced by the Ministry to do anything—except for when the whole school was under attack, so I'm pretty sure it's only that Hagrid's died of shame…. He's not up there, anyway, so what does that tell you?"

"How did she find out he was a half-giant?" said Nott curiously, speaking aloud at the Slytherin table for the first time in a while. Everyone was so caught up in the moment, though, that no one seemed particularly surprised about it. "That's definitely something she could guess, but she'd still need proof—especially all that about his mum."

"Hell if I know," said Malfoy. "She might have even made that bit up—though it's probably true…."

Like apparently everyone else, Vesperra was not at all surprised to hear that Hagrid was a half-giant. In fact, she had suspected something of the sort herself several times—but really, the news that confirmed it passed straight through her and off, away from her interest. Although, now that it _was_ confirmed, she couldn't help but let her mind go off on its own tangent and wonder how the _hell_ that had happened. Even if Hagrid's father had been a man of Severus's height—over six feet tall, and his mother had been a bit short for a giantess, the two of them both falling in love and… _mating_ should have been impossible.

After a minute, Vesperra forced herself to stop thinking about that, for it was something she didn't really want to figure out—and she knew that if she kept trying, she would end up scarring herself for life with the mental images. She was only vaguely listening to the ongoing conversation and giggles of the people around her, as she was lost in her own thoughts and ponderings—and also a bit of relief.

Unlike most of the others, she didn't truly _hate_ Hagrid. Depending on the scenario, actually, she didn't really mind him. And she wasn't frightened of the man at all, nor did she think that he was brutal or giant-like in any way—he was just stupid. Very, very stupid. If he had inherited one thing from his mother besides his size, it was the simplicity of how his mind worked and his skills at common sense and simple problem-solving. _That's_ what Vesperra was afraid of—what Hagrid's stupidity could do: make him think it was a good idea to illegally breed a manticore and a fire crab (_How the sodding hell did he even get his hands on those?_), make him suggest that a load of fourteen-year olds try their hand at them….

But that didn't mean that she felt in any way sorry for him or was disappointed that he would likely no longer be their Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Hagrid wouldn't have hurt a fly, but his lack of intelligence was dangerous. Besides: She had taken Care of Magical Creatures in the first place to actually _learn_ about magical creatures; and the past couple years, all that class had provided her with were a few good battles (she found no better word for them) with Malfoy and the chance to (though unintentionally) practice the Killing Curse. Honestly, she couldn't care less about whatever shameful state the man might have been in, and she hoped for a replacement.

Though Vesperra hardly paid any attention to the talk around her while she kept one foot inside her mind-cave, one scrap of conversation was clear and stayed with her—except it was only a single sentence from Malfoy, who had ironically been saying it to Pansy and not to everyone, though not necessarily privately:

"You know what, it's not just the loss of Hagrid I'm happy about. I finally managed to have an effect like this without my father's help."

* * *

_That was pretty damn cruel, and that's coming from me…._

The entire staff had known about Rita Skeeter's article before most of the rest of the school did, for a copy of it, separate from the rest of Monday's _Daily Prophet_, had been anonymously mailed by owl directly to both Dumbledore and Hagrid on Sunday evening. None of them had read it yet (partially because the Headmaster had destroyed his copy), but they all knew the nature of it, and most of the teachers felt sorry for the man.

Not being the pitying sort of person, Severus didn't feel much for Hagrid (and he was honestly glad that he wouldn't be teaching Care of Magical Creatures and potentially putting Vesperra in danger any longer), but he still felt that just sending the article like that (it had likely been a member of the Ministry or someone who worked for the _Daily Prophet_) was just plain disgusting. It wasn't even the refined sort of cruelty.

But it might have also been considered convenient for the anonymous sender to do so a day before term started, because then Hagrid didn't have to run out of the Great Hall crying while hundreds of students were in there, and Dumbledore had had time to find someone to substitute for Care of Magical Creatures while the gamekeeper was refusing to come out of his hut.

"My, I hope the poor dear doesn't take it this badly for too long," said Professor Sprout soon after she walked into the staffroom on Monday morning. "I was just at his hut—he's usually out working _something_ around this time, but I saw none of him, couldn't even hear him inside his hut."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sentiment and headed through the door that led to the Great Hall, then took a seat. He was slightly anxious to see just _exactly_ how bad this article was that it could make Hagrid this upset, though he wouldn't have admitted it.

* * *

The fourth year Slytherins' first lesson of the term was both fortunately and unfortunately History of Magic—fortunately because it gave those who still craved some extra sleep the chance for a nap and _unfortunately_ because it was the single worst class there was. After that was Care of Magical Creatures, which Malfoy and most of the others actually seemed a bit anxious to get to, if only to see and confirm that Hagrid wasn't there.

It meant trudging through the thick layer of snow on the grounds down to the hut by the Forbidden Forest, though, which was more of what mattered to Vesperra. Possible dangerous creatures or not, she wasn't looking forward to being outside for about two hours in this weather.

And, to the gleeful grins and soft laughter of most of her fellow Slytherins (even some smirks from Nott and Blaise), they found that there was no extremely large and bushy-bearded man in sight, but instead an old woman with closely cropped gray hair and a prominent chin. The Gryffindors were already there, all appearing confused about Hagrid's absence but only some of them upset as well.

"This way, please," said the unfamiliar witch (who was apparently substituting for Hagrid) as she strode off around the paddock where Madame Maxime's Abraxans were being kept. Vesperra was at the very back of the group of Slytherins and Gryffindors, but she could still see Potter hurrying to catch up with the new professor—likely to ask her where Hagrid was or something. But she couldn't hear what either of them said. Especially because most of the Slytherins in front of her were whispering to each other joyfully.

"I wonder what it's going to be…. I'm almost so used to not having a proper lesson that I honestly don't know what to expect," she could hear Pansy whispering.

Vesperra's eyebrows merely rose in mild surprise when the professor revealed to have been leading them to a large, pure-white unicorn tethered to a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, while many of the other girls (most of them Gryffindors) "ooooohed!" enthusiastically. Glancing around, she saw that even some of the boys had their eyes transfixed on the creature, and also that she wasn't the only Slytherin making an effort to show no emotion. She didn't know about the others, but such a task came extremely easy for her.

"Boys keep back!" barked the old woman. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it…."

While not exactly reluctant to touch a unicorn, Vesperra honestly didn't care all that much. Creatures like unicorns were highly magical (especially with their hair and horns' use in potions) and therefore very interesting to her—but that didn't mean she had some inane urge to stroke it. Still, though, the only thing that made her mind it at all was that it was the sort of thing that it would be somewhat awkward to participate in, and that which had a potential to get her taunted for.

With a small huff, her arms folded, she walked slowly with the other girls (some of whom were looking to each other with nervous excitement, and some unskillfully hiding their smiles) and the teacher toward the unicorn. She stood near the back, as she was wont to do, wondering how the old woman had even managed to get a full-grown unicorn anyway… especially after only having been at Hogwarts for a day at the maximum.

"It's alright, don't be shy—and don't act afraid, or it won't trust you—just go on and pet her, it's fine…."

A Gryffindor girl called Lavender Brown was the first to reach out and stroke the pure-white hide of the unicorn, and the creature seemed to calm down, ceasing the throwing back of its large head almost at once. Apparently now a lot less hesitant, other girls got closer and formed a circle around it, putting their hands forward. They seemed to be greatly enjoying theirselves, as though touching a unicorn automatically provided you with happiness…. So, finally, Vesperra decided that she might as well pet the damn unicorn while she was over there.

Making her way around the circle to the area near its mane, she unfolded her arms with an inward sigh and slowly reached out—but when her fingers were inches away from touching it, the unicorn threw its head back without warning, letting out a small whinny and almost rearing up as it backed away. Vesperra snatched her hand back, alarmed, though not all that stricken by the realization of what that had meant—even as a female virgin, she was not pure enough to touch such a pure creature. The thing could sense it.

"_Woah,_ there…" The old woman made to quickly calm the unicorn down, then turned to frown at Vesperra, who had re-folded her arms and stepped away a bit, like she was something she had never seen before. "Miss, you should… just stay back."

_Yes, I'm pretty sure I figured that out for myself,_ thought Vesperra a little bitterly. She wasn't surprised or even hurt that the unicorn didn't like her (considering the fact that she had both killed someone indirectly and used the Killing Curse before)—but it was Pansy and Daphne's wicked smirks and almost incredulous giggles that bothered her, since they ensured that they wouldn't be letting this go for a while.

The substitute professor (Vesperra thought it was odd that the woman hadn't told them her name yet) began talking about the magical properties of unicorns, but she cut off soon after starting in order to yell over at the boys, "Are you paying attention over there?"

When it seemed that they all were, the old woman continued, carrying along for the hour until the class was nearly at its end. A good number of the things about unicorns, like their diet and what happened when they got sick, Vesperra hadn't even known—so she _was_ a bit interested. But there was one thing that she kept in mind that she doubted anyone else, even the old woman, knew about unicorns: Drinking their blood would give someone the ability to live even if they were very close to death. Of course, that was only for extremely Dark purposes and she was sure it must have been hundreds of years since anyone but Voldemort had done it, but it still felt oddly satisfying just to know something like that.

Somewhat luckily, Vesperra was pretty much standing with the group of other girls for the rest of the class, and so Malfoy had no chance to bother her. There was still Pansy, though, who was taking every chance she got to say something snide to her and giggle fiercely. She was likely going to tell her boyfriend about the unicorn incident the moment she had the chance.

When the bell rang, signaling lunch, everyone began to head back to the castle. As per usual, Vesperra purposely hung near the back as an act of a bit of paranoia (which was perfectly rational, considering those who were in her House)—but when she noticed someone else who also often stayed at the rear of the pack, she stopped for a moment. She realized that there was something she wanted to do.

"Hey," said Vesperra casually as she strode up to his side.

Nott seemed to stiffen up before looking over at her, his face at first confused but then merely curious. "Er… hey…?" he returned slowly and unsurely, probably hesitant to get his hopes up. "Why—er… why are you talking to me? I thought—"

"Yes, I rejected you romantically," she said quickly, "but I honestly don't mind talking to you occasionally and you're really the only other Slytherin I can get along and have real conversations and agree with, and even though it's your fault for making things awkward, I want to make sure that it isn't anymore, so we can still be—so we can talk." She really didn't want to use the word "friends"—especially since that _wasn't_ what they were. "And we can forget you ever said anything weird, and it can all go back to normal. Are… you okay with that?"

Hoping that he wasn't getting any ideas of somehow winning her over, she watched his expression change from surprised to almost amused—it was as though he thought he should have expected her to be completely blunt and quick about it like this.

"Yeah, I'm… I'm okay with normal," said Nott, nodding and letting out a short breath of a laugh. "And… thanks for saving me the trouble of having to be extremely awkward and saying it instead."

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed the confession, the angst, the small bit of insight on Malfoy, the unicorn, and Nott all in one chapter! I know you're probably angry at me (or Severus) for _yet again_ putting off the truth about Lily, but don't you think that was enough for one night?**

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought, what you think is going to happen, or just any random thoughts you have! (Also, thanks to _Matara_ for getting me past 200 reviews! ^_^ )**


	62. Book 4: Chapter 16

**I'll warn you, this chapter is mostly Vesperra. But there needs to be some stuff with just her in order to help the GoF plot move along. Plus, I'm sure you guys will be pleasantly surprised. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :D**

* * *

Thursday's morning peace (if that's what you wanted to call it) was suddenly broken, but not by the usual, single drawling insult from Malfoy or someone else that would eventually get through Vesperra's walls. At first, she hardly noticed that the owls were making their daily delivery of letters and packages to the students in the Great Hall—but it was a little more difficult not to notice an owl land directly on top of her plate and nearly knock over her goblet of pumpkin juice in the process, even from the inside of her mind-cave.

There was a moment where it refused to even cross her mind that the letter could be for her, but for that moment she had completely forgotten that she wasn't the person she used to be—not the young, more defenseless Vesperra who could never have gotten letters from anyone. And so she quickly accepted the not-so-new reality and took the envelope from the relatively small, dark-gray bird in front of her. Without looking at the back of it, she already knew who it must have been from.

And without looking up or even attempting to strain her eyes' peripheral vision, she already knew that the others were all staring at her. A single question ran through her mind: _Do I acknowledge them with a glare or just ignore them?_ Both had its benefits, but the former's would have been more for her amusement. Was amusement worth the soon-to-be lack of privacy?

Either way, Vesperra made sure to keep a strong grip on the envelope for the few seconds she was holding it as the owl flew away, just in case anyone tried to take it from her like Pansy had the last time she'd been delivered a letter at breakfast. At least it wouldn't have been as bad for Severus to interfere this time.

As she didn't want to open it and read it with about nine other people likely staring at her, she immediately stuffed it into her robes pocket and paused only to think of whether she should glance up at them, just to see, or just continue eating like it was nothing. It didn't really matter in the next couple seconds, though, just like she'd half-expected—

"Oi, what was that all about? You just get a letter and immediately put it away—what have you got to hide, Grease-perra?"

Malfoy's voice came out taunting, but at the same time genuinely curious and frustrated. It was oddly satisfying to hear him confused. But, for a brief second, Vesperra had feared that her enemy was thinking that it was another letter from Borgin and Burkes like last time—until she remembered that she had Obliviated that memory out of him. She then made a mental note to write it down every time she Obliviated someone, since forgetting what memories people still had and what they didn't could end up being a problem.

Vesperra looked up, her face expressionless. She had been right: Everyone _was_ staring at her. Some with surprise, some with outright confusion written on their faces. Malfoy was holding a package in his hand that he had probably just gotten from his eagle owl, glaring at her. She glared back.

"Less than you do," she said smoothly, the retort having come to mind as quickly as it had come out of her mouth. She hadn't spent terribly long thinking about whether it was a good idea, but it was simply too clever to pass up the chance. It had been referring to everything in general, of course, not just that one moment—and as far as she knew, it wasn't even true. There was no way that Malfoy could have had more secrets than her, considering Severus, all the involvement she'd had concerning Voldemort, the man she'd helped to kill, Nott…. But whatever. It didn't have to make sense—she just felt like screwing with him.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her as he frowned. Vesperra couldn't tell if it was more confusion or actual anger. Could there have actually been any truth to what she'd said?

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled. It was odd, though, because his voice only got more high-pitched when he growled. Like a ferret's.

"Exactly what it sounded like," said Vesperra casually, lowering her eyelids to a somewhat bored expression as she nonchalantly and absentmindedly resumed eating her breakfast.

Malfoy's face started flushing a bit, and Vesperra realized that she was having a rather fun morning so far. "That—you—" he started to sputter, but his voice got lost in the protests of others.

"But who would be writing _you_?" demanded Pansy as she pushed her body to lean over the table, her voice rising to an extremely annoying shriek.

"Guys, hold on…," said Blaise slowly. His voice seemed to have gotten deeper since the last time she heard him speak. "I think we've done this before."

"What—_oh!_—Merlin, we have… But we never really got anywhere back then."

Vesperra was actually a bit surprised that most of the others seemed to only now be remembering. That memory stuck out vividly in _her_ mind now that she was thinking about it….

"And I expect you'll remember that I dug my nails into your arm last time, Parkinson," she told her dully, "so it wouldn't be a terribly good idea to try taking it from me again. Especially now that it's in my robes."

"Eurgh, wouldn't _dream_ of sticking my hand in your robes…," said Pansy disgustedly. "I've got a boyfriend to do that with."

Now it was Vesperra's turn to be disgusted. Her face dropping into a scowl, she decided that she had no use for this conversation, since it couldn't get any more amusing from here. _Ugh, I did not need that mental image…._ It was rather lucky she was the sort of person who could just drive away thoughts.

"Well, who is it, then?" pressed Malfoy, having apparently moved past Vesperra's retort (either deciding that she must not have been serious anyway or that there were more important things to talk about, she assumed). "You're poor, so you don't have contacts and you can't have ordered anything. You're—well, _you_, so you don't have any friends. We all know that your parents hate you…. So who does that leave?"

Fed up, bored, and partially just not caring anymore, Vesperra sighed inwardly and made her decision just as Tracey scoffed "No one."

"My cousin," said Vesperra, looking down at her plate of kippers and not at anyone else. There was a sudden silence enveloping that part of the Slytherin table, the crushing feeling of which she ignored.

"You—your what?" sputtered Malfoy, sounding as though he'd been completely thrown off guard—it had likely come as a shock that Vesperra had even decided to answer.

"It's really none of your _bloody _business, Malfoy, but if you _must_ know, it's from my _cousin_," she repeated with a drawl to imitate her enemy's usual one, glancing up at him with an annoyed look. "You know, the child of one of your parent's siblings—"

"I _know_ what a cousin is!" Malfoy said hotly. "I just find it hard to believe that _you_ have one, let alone one that writes you."

"Well, believe it or not, there _are_ people who don't hate me," snapped Vesperra, scowling at the one person who hated her the most—but still leaving room in her semi-peripheral vision for everyone else who did.

"Oh, we already know that…. Professor Snape doesn't. But he's the professor of a class you're the best in, and he doesn't really know you. So he doesn't count."

_Wrong,_ thought Vesperra, finding Malfoy's assumption almost hilariously ironic and almost wanting to mention that the person who had written to her was technically _his_ cousin as well. She continued to glare at him for another few seconds, but then moved her eyes away from him and everyone else and back down to her plate. She decided that that was it, and she was going to say no more. Quickly and easily, she sunk into her mind-cave and thought nothing of any of the people around her for the rest of breakfast—except wondering what the Durmstrang boys were thinking of all this.

And as to that, she got her answer soon after leaving the Great Hall and heading toward the staircase to get to Ancient Runes.

"Do they olvays get so vorked up over a letter?" asked a voice from her left, the owner of which she recognized to be Alec when she looked up and over at him. He seemed to have hurried to catch up with her, and he was bending over slightly to be more at her height and also so he could whisper. Not unexpectedly, he was frowning as though he was rather confused about what he had just sat through.

Annoyed just to have him talk to her, she huffed before responding shortly, "If I got letters often enough for it to be considered '_olvays_,' they probably wouldn't." Really, he was a bit dim if he hadn't been able to catch that. It was annoying enough that Vesperra didn't even realize that it might have been a little too insulting to mimic his accent, even if it hadn't necessarily (well, not _purposely_) been in a mocking way. "But they do get worked up over a lot of things."

_Anything that has the potential to make me look bad, at least,_ she thought as she took the first step up the stairs, thus forcing Alec to walk away and likely back to his ship. About three seconds later, she realized that the right side of her had been occupied the whole time, listening to her very short conversation with the Durmstrang boy.

"I swear, sometimes Malfoy seems like he's obsessed with you," were the words of Nott that made her notice he was there. She glanced at him, the surprise wearing off almost instantly. "Hold on—you don't think he…"

"What—_oh_—oh Merlin, no," said Vesperra with disgust, shaking her head both as a response and trying to shake sudden thoughts out of her mind. "No, definitely not. It's nowhere _close_ to being the sort of thing where people act like they hate each other to cover up other feelings—not even one-sided. Malfoy loathes me; he has ever since he met me. And it's _real _loathing—enough for him to murder me if he had the chance, which he's actually tried to do before—and I would do the same to him. There's no hidden crush there, I assure you."

"Oh," was all Nott could say. Vesperra figured he must have felt a little awkward about asking whether another person had a crush on her, but she also figured that he shouldn't have asked that at all in the first place, then. So she didn't care. He was silent until they reached the top of the stairs and walked out into the sixth floor corridor, at which he then said, "Did you meet him before Hogwarts, then?"

"Obviously. Did you think he and everyone else just randomly decided to hate someone who was Sorted into their own House, even though I'm not the only Half-Blood in Slytherin and Bulstrode's way uglier than I am?"

"You're not ugly," said Nott at once, frowning. Vesperra frowned as well, but for a different reason, and sighed inwardly before saying quietly,

"Don't get into that again."

"Sorry." Good, he was catching on. Then, about a minute later, when they were entering the Ancient Runes classroom—"So… what happened when you met him?"

Ugh. Another question that she didn't particularly feel like answering—not because it was very personal, but because she simply didn't feel like searching her mind for the memories or telling a story. Swiftly looking around the classroom, she saw that there were currently only about half of the other students (Granger included) and Professor Babbling in there. A few more came in behind them as they walked to their seats.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you later," said Vesperra. "There's only a few minutes before the start of class…. Maybe during the break on the way to Transfiguration or something."

She assumed his soft "Hm" was an affirmation that he was okay with that (not that she would have cared otherwise), and opened her schoolbag to take out the Ancient Runes translation and essay that they had been told to do over the Christmas holidays, which Babbling would take from them once the bell rang. Vesperra wasn't surprised, a few minutes later, when a few people didn't have theirs—or at least didn't have them finished.

Though it was the first Ancient Runes lesson of the term, they weren't beginning a new unit—they had been learning different dialects for at least a month prior to Christmas. Vesperra had at first found it strange that the _written_ language would have different dialects, but after many lengths' of parchment worth of notes, she'd supposed it made sense. Back when the runic language was common (tens of thousands of years ago, when Britain was all Celtic and Gaelic tribes), of course there would have been several different ways to speak the Muggle languages, which must have influenced the runic ones.

Now, however, Professor Babbling finally thought them knowledgeable enough in this particularly difficult part of learning Ancient Runes (especially after having read so much for studying as _another_ part of their homework over the holidays) to try translating in both directions. This meant another original story-writing time, and that meant partners. There was no question as to who Vesperra's was going to be (and she was glad that she had decided to fix things between her and Nott the other day, since she wouldn't have to deal with any awkwardness in being his partner now).

With a single nod to each other, they both dipped their quills in ink and got to writing—well, it was more like holding the quill above the parchment and thinking, flipping through their rune dictionaries and notes.

It was no trouble for Vesperra to think of what to write, for she had had an almost unbelievably convenient idea the moment Professor Babbling had given them their instructions for the day. And it wasn't _considerably_ more trouble to figure out how to translate it into one of the other rune dialects, but it still required some extra thought and enough page-turning to cause a hand-cramp.

In a paragraph of what looked like odd markings on her sheet of parchment was the not-so-short story of the first time she'd ever met Malfoy: What would have otherwise been something she'd have pretended to forget telling him about became a challenge for her memorization skills and intellectual prowess. Logical or not, it was simply too clever of a chance to pass up. When she asked him if he was ready to switch, he looked over at her paper and responded with "Merlin, how did you write so much? I've only got about four sentences done…."

"Well, that's hardly my fault," said Vesperra. "Just hurry up and make an ending and then pass yours over." After a short huff and another ten minutes, Nott finally slid his sheet of parchment over to her, and she acknowledged it by giving him hers.

She had to admit, translating the dialects of ancient runic languages _to_ English was pretty difficult. And she used that word in the sense that it took longer to figure things out than in some of her other classes. The task included both figuring out which dialect it was using and then translating it based on that—and you could get everything wrong if you were mistaken as to which dialect it was. And without Nott telling her what his paragraph was about beforehand (he wasn't supposed to, anyway), she didn't have context, so that made it all the more difficult. But that was okay, as she liked a challenge.

By the time she was finished with translating it out into English, she had noticed and circled a few mistakes Nott had made. Still, though, Vesperra was sure she had it right for the most part. Seeing that her partner was still in the middle of translating, she didn't say anything to him, but instead just watched and waited until he was finished.

"Well, I'm not surprised," said Nott eventually, sitting up straight and setting his quill down. "Malfoy must have been a little shit ever since his birth." With a slight turn of his head, his eyes caught hers, and he gave her a sort of half-smirk, half-grimace. He then slid the parchment back over to her and said, "Is all of that right?"

So she looked it over. His translation read:

_I was six, and I was walking with my mum in Diagon Alley. She told me to wait outside while she went inside a shop to get something, and it started raining after a few minutes. I knew she was going to be in there a while, so I disobeyed and started walking around. At some point I saw Malfoy, and he was alone too. He was already calling me ugly and poor and trying to pull on my hair. I ignored him. Then he got angry and pushed me into a puddle. My mum found me later and yelled at me for getting so soaked._

"Yeah, that's pretty much accurate," Vesperra told him. "The translation, I mean. But also your description of Malfoy."

She had told that story once to Severus after he had asked the same question, so there really wasn't anything weird about Nott knowing. His face bore the same expression that Severus's had—suppressed pity and anger. Anger towards Malfoy, that is. Vesperra didn't think very much of it.

Nott read over her translation of his story and gave her the same confirmation that it was accurate, and they both then realized that the class still had another twenty minutes left.

_I suppose I can read my letter now, then…,_ thought Vesperra, for she had nothing else to do at the moment and didn't want to wait until after dinner to read it. After all, she hadn't heard from (or even thought about) Damien in forever—assuming that's who it was from. If it wasn't, what had happened at breakfast would have been rather ironic.

Reaching inside her robes pocket, she pulled out the slightly crumpled envelope and unsealed it with her finger (it would have been easier if she still had the fingernails that she had a habit of biting off). Vesperra unfolded the parchment inside and read it:

_Vesperra,_

_ Well, you said to owl you when I managed to sell the dragon. And I did. But that's not all—I've also made some progress with my mum and dad! Anyway, I want to talk to you more about it in person, and so I wanted to ask when your next Hogsmeade trip was. Plus, I haven't seen you in ages, so it'll be nice just to sit down and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks and talk. _

_~Damien Gerard_

"Is that really from your cousin?"

Vesperra's neck cracked with how quickly she turned her head to Nott (which had been unintentional). She was relieved of the paranoia of him having possibly read it over her shoulder when she saw the way he was sitting, but she still promptly re-folded the letter and began to put it away.

"Yes," she said, not looking at him. She expected him to respond with something like "I never knew you had a cousin," or "Why has he never written until now?"

But he didn't. Instead, he gave her a small "Hm" and left it at that. Honestly, Vesperra was glad to have someone she could talk to whom she didn't have to tell anything personal, and also who didn't pry when it seemed she didn't want to divulge anything else. She was pretty sure _why_ Nott didn't ask further, and the thought made her slightly uncomfortable, but she realized that it was useful to have Nott around. It didn't look like he was going to try to convince her to fall in love with him (or even make any more of an effort romantically), so she didn't have to worry about anything like that. And, if her own tendencies and feelings for Severus told her anything, he would do pretty much anything within his power for her. If there was anything she ever needed, whether as simple as needing to deliver a message or actually giving her major help in getting information or stealing something (these were just random examples popping up in her head, so she didn't know if those things would be necessary), he could help if he was able. Nott had already kept secrets for her and had once even rescued her, however much humiliation she looked back on that with…. So she simply needed to keep him at arm's length, but still always there—just enough that he always trusted her. Not quite a friend, but more than just an acquaintance. A person that she tolerated and, more often than not, enjoyed the company of. To him, a person who would never like him romantically or truly even as a friend, but it was difficult for her to like or connect with anyone at all, so it was amazing that he had even gotten this far into a sort-of relationship with her. And he should be grateful for that.

* * *

"How convenient for him, because I believe it's next Saturday. Couldn't you have looked on the bulletin board in your Common Room, though?"

"I didn't see the point, since I don't like stopping when I pass through the Common Room, and I can always just ask you."

"Oh, you wound me. Am I really just a source of information to you?"

Vesperra cocked her head and raised a mocking eyebrow, then smirked and let out a short breath as a laugh. She and the other fourth year Slytherins (and Gryffindors) had luckily had Potions last thing on Thursday, so she had only had to stay behind to ask him. Rather than merely asking when the next Hogsmeade weekend was, she had first told him about the letter—now that Damien wasn't a secret, she wanted to be as honest as she could with Severus. Besides, there was no point in keeping from him that she was going to have a visit and a chat with her cousin. She didn't mention anything about the dragon, though.

He smirked back, showing that he had, of course, been joking as well.

"You're my friend," Vesperra started to tell him, "and it's just convenient that you happen to be teacher, since you know a lot of things. But hey, _you_ can ask me about whatever the latest scheme of Malfoy's is anytime you want."

Severus leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at that. "_Is_ he planning anything?"

"That was really just an example—but, actually, he's been sort of… I dunno, weird. He apparently talked to Rita Skeeter…."

"Yes, I read the article," said Severus. "But I don't know how he could have possibly talked to her, because she's no longer allowed on the grounds. Dumbledore banned her. Do you… suppose there's any way you could find out how he talked to her?"

"I don't think there's any way, honestly," she sighed, leaning against the side of his desk and folding her arms. "Simply asking him would get me nowhere, as there's no way he'd tell me, nor would that work for Crabbe or Goyle or Pansy…. And I don't see how spying could help. That would be assuming that he's going to do another interview with her, and who knows when that'll be? And Veritaserum's regulated by the Ministry… _unless_—"

"I appreciate the hypothetical effort, but I'd rather not waste my Veritaserum on a matter like this," interrupted Severus. "Whatever this is, I highly doubt it would benefit us in any way except getting Malfoy or Skeeter in trouble with Dumbledore, or have anything to do with the Dark Lord."

"Yes, I suppose you're right…. Well," said Vesperra, taking a step forward and adjusting the strap of her schoolbag over her shoulder, "we've both got to get to dinner. I promise I haven't stolen any of your Veritaserum, and I'm most definitely not going to put it in Malfoy's pumpkin juice tonight."

She kept a straight face as she looked at him, though the underlying smirk was obvious.

"Oh, shut up, you don't even know where I keep it," scoffed Severus. "I wouldn't keep a potion that valuable where there was even the slightest _possibility_ it could be stolen."

"Of course I do, it's in the bottom of your sock drawer," she smirked. Leaning in for an extremely brief hug, she squeezed his arm and then headed for the door. "Talk to you tonight, Severus."

As the heavy dungeon door swung shut, Severus let out a small huff and stood up. He knew she had been joking, but… _How_ _could she have possibly known that?_

* * *

By Saturday, Severus had graded all of the essays and potions the fourth-through-seventh years had turned in (which he had been given time to do because of Vesperra's excessive work load that didn't allow her to talk to him as often through the journals) and moved his stores of Veritaserum (which was currently a magically warded box) to a new location. He knew that Vesperra would be the only one capable of getting into it and also the only one he knew would never steal from him, but he was just paranoid like that.

And coincidentally, Saturday was the ninth of January, which happened to be the anniversary of the day he had been physically separated from his mother's uterus. _Oh, yes, I'll have to tell Vesperra that one…. She's likely tired of hearing that it's only another year closer to death._

The only reason he had remembered, though, was because of Dumbledore wishing him a happy birthday on his way to breakfast, after which Vesperra immediately came to spend the day, greeting him with another "Happy Birthday, Severus."

And before he could even sigh stubbornly, she sat down on the couch with him and hit his arm lightly with the back of her hand. "Come on, I know you don't really care about it, since you're an adult, and—hell, I couldn't give less of a damn about my own, but you could at least pretend not to mind me telling you to have a happy one. Or be glad that you get to spend the entire day with your friend."

Giving him a brief hug first, Vesperra situated herself next to him rather than long-ways on the couch like she sometimes did, and then grabbed his hand without having to look for it—or even look down at all. Perhaps, though, his hand had sought hers first. Either way, it was such a routine thing that it was almost involuntary.

"I just don't want to be congratulated for getting old," he said, though he was actually very glad that he could spend his full birthday with her for the first time. "And—so, you get to be stubborn and bitter on your birthday, but I don't? How does that work?"

That got him a dramatic scoffing noise from the back of his friend's throat. "Severus," she started, twisting to the right so that she could look directly up at him, "thirty-five is _not_ old. Especially not for wizards. And since when am I ever bitter on my birthday? I'm just apathetic about it."

"Alright, I'll give you that. But—Vesperra, you have to realize, I hardly ever had a reason to actually enjoy my birthday until you became my friend."

And, despite not _really _knowing the reason for that, she already knew the rest that he didn't say: _So it's difficult for me to want to celebrate it even like normal adults do or care about it._

"Neither did I," said Vesperra softly, squeezing his hand. "But… I suppose that being twenty years older makes a difference," she sighed, and Severus frowned slightly at the mention of his age. "But—well, are you happy?"

The pause he took just to look down at her with a soft expression was long enough to be misconstrued as hesitation, but Severus didn't think Vesperra assumed it was that. "Yes, I'm… very happy, actually."

She smiled. Not a lip twitch, not a smirk—a real smile, however small and for the most part only in her eyes it might have been. "And it's your birthday. Therefore, you're having a happy birthday. Mission accomplished, then."

Twisting back around and reclining her back into the couch, she absentmindedly lifted his hand with hers briefly and let it fall back down to the soft space between them.

"Yes," admitted Severus with a sigh, "I suppose I am. Except I'm happy more because it's a Saturday, not because it's my birthday. It's not all that different but for the fact that I'm officially thirty-five now, you know…."

"_Except_ for the fact that I got you a present—"

"You were just waiting for a good moment for you to say that dramatically, weren't you?"

"Yes, and you just ruined it by interrupting me," Vesperra huffed, though smirking, as she reached into her robes and pulled out a small package wrapped in paper. She twisted around again as she handed it to him so she could watch while he opened it. "Here. Happy Birthday."

Outwardly, Severus was reluctant as usual to take a present from her, but in reality, he was most definitely _not_ going to refuse to take it. Still, he felt, for some reason, that he at least had to act like he never wanted birthday presents. So he took it from her with a sigh—and upon feeling it, he realized it was soft, which made him suddenly very curious as to what it could be.

His brow slightly furrowed, he ripped open the paper and slid it off while Vesperra watched in anticipation. It appeared, at first, to be a gray bundle of cloth. When he unfolded it… it was a large piece of gray cloth."

"A shirt?" he said tentatively and questioningly, holding it up by the edges of the sleeves. Severus didn't want to appear ungrateful or like the sort of person who was ever picky about gifts, but… _a shirt?_ That was certainly not her type of gift, nor was it his. There must have been something else to it. "A shirt."

"A _nightshirt_," she corrected him, her lips stretching into a smirk that made her normally pale face go a bit red (which happened anytime her cheeks stretched more than only a bit, and which was a small part of the reason she usually didn't like to smile). She locked eyes with his, pretending she didn't notice the suppressed look of confusion and nervousness on his face but thoroughly enjoying it. It was rather amusing… _okay, no more. He's had enough._ "I got it from the Room of Requirement and made some magical adjustments to it," she explained, which seemed to relieve him immediately, to more of her amusement. "It'll always change temperature depending on how warm or cold it is, so you'll never get too hot or too cold while you're wearing it. And you'll also never have a reason to accidentally be shirtless when I—or anyone else—comes in."

_Holy…_ Severus couldn't even finish that expletive in his mind, since he was too busy examining her present and being in awe of it. He just turned it over and around, looking at it despite the fact that he already knew everything remarkable about it would not be visible. Of _course_ Vesperra would have thought of something like this.

"Vesperra… _how_ were you able to learn a spell that could do that?" he said almost breathlessly, extremely impressed with her. "I'm fairly certain that's not in any of the curriculums ever taught in Hogwarts, and it's not even a spell you could directly learn—you'd have to—"

"Use several modified spells, I know. That's what I did." Very pleased with herself—both for having accomplished the magical modifications to the shirt and for Severus being impressed with her, Vesperra smirked more widely. "And before you ask, I've been working on it since a couple days after Christmas. It really wasn't all that hard: Once I had the idea, all I had to do was go to the Room of Requirement and look up Temperature Charms. And I know it's different than your black silk nightshirts, but for some reason the Room of Requirement would only give me gray ones. I think it doesn't want to be used for anything that could be called profit."

Severus was still internally gaping. Completely aside from the usefulness of the present (which he was sure would be very well, though he hoped there would never even be the chance of him being shirtless in front of her again), he was simply speechless at her genius.

"I… thank you, Vesperra," he said, for nothing else came to mind for him to say. After folding the shirt back up and setting it in his lap, he leaned forward for a brief hug. He supposed, then, that he truly _was_ happy it was his birthday—it wasn't just any other Saturday with his friend. But that was because every single day spent with Vesperra was unique.

* * *

For the next week, Vesperra was honestly looking somewhat forward to seeing her cousin that weekend. Lessons were rather uneventful but for the ever-growing amounts of homework they were given—at least Hagrid was still gone. Care of Magical Creatures was still being taught by that old woman (whom Vesperra learned to be called Professor Grubbly-Plank), and they were still learning about unicorns.

She hadn't told Severus about the unicorn not letting her touch it, partly because it would have left him at an awkward place. What exactly was one supposed to say to their friend supposedly being deemed "impure" by a unicorn? It was also partly because he would've had no idea of the true reasons the creature had been afraid of her, and she didn't want him to suspect anything. Even though she now knew that he was an ex-Death Eater and therefore it should have been easier to divulge a secret like that—but, no, it _wasn't_ easier. Severus had never purposely killed anyone. He had never even attempted what was generally considered the most evil act one could commit, as far as she knew. Of course, she had only been an accomplice in that murder… but surely that would still land her at least _some_ years in Azkaban, were she to be found out?

The Slytherin boys had been told about it, though, and they had had their own theories as to the reason the unicorn had backed away. Some of them were stupid, and some of them were things that she'd actually considered herself.

When Saturday morning came, Vesperra tried to end up nowhere near Malfoy while walking down the dirt path to Hogsmeade, but she failed as usual. Still, she bore through what the damn blonde had in store that day and made it to the Three Broomsticks without her ears ringing—but with her back freezing from the water she had been unable to stop one of Malfoy's cronies from dumping on her. A Reductor Curse had gotten them to leave, and the horribly uncomfortable trickling feeling made her even more anxious to get inside the warm pub and get a butterbeer. _Lucky I told him to come in the morning…._

Now that both Severus and all her fellow Slytherins knew she had a cousin (hell, she didn't really care if _everyone_ knew), Vesperra had no problem with looking like she was looking for someone—who may or may not have already been there. Damn, what time was it?—a look at the clock told her that Damien should be there in about three minutes. _Hm, good timing on my part._

Assuming that he was going to Apparate right outside of the pub when it was exactly the right time (which, in some cases, could be annoying), she went to the bar to order a butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta. She thought about getting one for Damien as well, but decided not to if only to save money—and also because she didn't know if he'd want one. He was an adult, after all, and so it wasn't unlikely he'd want some alcoholic drink.

Well… perhaps not, since it was still morning.

The Three Broomsticks was as crowded as ever, which left Vesperra with little choice for her seats. She sat down at the first empty table she could find without looking around for others, as she didn't want it to get taken. That was yet another thing she tended to get paranoid about.

Soon after she sat down and before she had the chance to lift the tankard of warm butterbeer to her mouth, she heard the telltale ring of the door opening and hitting a couple of bells—most people wouldn't have heard it with all the noise in the place, but she had been listening specifically for it. Vesperra leaned to the left in order to see past the pillar that was blocking her view of the door, and, as expected, saw a man with very smooth, dark hair and an air of smugness about him. More than usual, actually.

Her cousin furrowed his brow slightly and adjusted his coat, starting to look around as he walked in. She had been just about to resort to shouting out for him when he caught sight of her, smiled widely, and proceeded toward her table.

"Morning," he greeted once he was within range, appearing rather pleased. Perhaps because of the dragon and his mum, perhaps just because he was getting to see her after a while. Vesperra raised her tankard and allowed her lips to briefly twitch upward in acknowledgement. "So…" Damien began to sit down. "How's my favorite cousin?"

Her eyes glinted in slight amusement, and she took a drink of her butterbeer before answering. _Ah, yes…. That's good._ What had been left of the freezing cold on her hair and back after she'd walked into the warn pub disappeared, and it felt as though her whole body had gone through one of the flushes that often happened in her chest when Severus was around.

"You have more than one, then?" said Vesperra after licking the foam off her lip, smirking slightly and raising an eyebrow. Damien just laughed.

"Hm. Well, I see you've already gotten your drink, so just hold on a minute while I get mine…."

She nodded, and a minute or so later he returned with his own tankard of butterbeer. A little sloshed over the side and onto the table when he sat down. He then took a sip of his own before talking again: "But really, though, how are you? I haven't seen you in a while, and I know Hogwarts has been hosting the Triwizard Tournament, so that's got to be exciting... Oh—and how's Professor Sna—?"

"Fjschtststststhdstdtdtdt!" Alarmed, Vesperra had thrown her hand forward to make sharp, but hopefully inconspicuous, waving movements and, her eyes wide with panic, cut him off with an unintelligible hissing noise. A moment after he shut up, he seemed to realize his mistake and didn't look likely to make it again. Quickly and with attempted casualty, she glanced around to make sure no one was staring at them. Luckily, it didn't look like anyone had heard. Then she looked back to him, her eyes still wide.

"Are—you—_mad_?" she hissed at him. Her heart was still pounding, and not in the good way. "No—wait, hold on, don't say anything just yet." Now frustrated, she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and did a quick wave of it around the table, thinking _Muffliato_. "Alright," she huffed, "say whatever you like now."

"Did… you just do that thing with—"

"Yes, I made it so no one else can hear us. But it wasn't like that before, and if anyone had heard you ask me that, I might have been in deep hippogriff shit—and so would Severus. Just… don't do that again."

"I won't, I'm sorry," sighed Damien, looking guilty and likely feeling stupid.

"And anyway," said Vesperra before he could continue, "I want to hear about your dragon first. After all, that _is_ what you originally wanted to talk about…."

"Oh—of course." Damien took a drink of his butterbeer and smirked. "Well, that one's a relatively short story, actually…. That dragon was getting extremely huge by the time we sold it—I mean, we had to move it out of its cage soon after you visited. My father knew that if we let it stay in there for much longer, it would get too big to easily move it later. Parkinson had come back saying that he had to turn us down, so we had no choice but to subdue the dragon and attach the cage to two brooms and then fly away with it; I've got a—friend—who owns quite a bit of land and was willing to allow the dragon to stay there, so that was the easy part. But my father and I had to Apparate out there every day to help him with it, since—well, he likes dragons, and he knows enough about them to manage one, but that thing was getting much too big for him to handle alone. At that point, my father didn't even care whether anyone paid any money—we just wanted someone to come get rid of it. I think it was just about to be at the point where it might have been too dangerous to handle when we got a visit from someone who had heard that we had a dragon and knew someone who worked with dragons in Romania. Yeah, it was that easy—we got everything set up, and a couple men came and took the Welsh Green with them. We even got a few hundred Galleons for it. And… you're probably wondering why we didn't just do that in the first place—but the dragon trade is illegal without certification, and we didn't know whether those dragon-tamers in Romania would have kept quiet about it or not."

"Huh—you know, the same thing happened a few years ago…. The Gamekeeper had somehow gotten a dragon egg and he got away with it because Weasley's brother is apparently a dragon tamer and was able to come get it. And it sounds like you would have had no choice but to get someone from the Ministry or just let it loose on the countryside if you had had to wait any longer…."

"Yeah—thank Merlin that didn't have to happen," said Damien, laughing as he took a drink of his butterbeer. "I would have…" But his eyes suddenly seemed to be focusing on something far behind Vesperra, and his brow furrowed as he trailed off. "Holy… That's Ludo Bagman over there…."

"What—?" Vesperra cut herself off in alarm as she twisted around in her chair (though carefully, so as to not look like she was looking at anything in particular), and her eyes searched that side of the room. "Where is…?" Bagman didn't seem to be in her line of sight, but then she finally noticed him in the mirror behind the bar—and also half of him from what she could see of his booth in the very corner of the pub. "What's he doing here?—and what's he doing with… with—_goblins?_"

_Goblins_ had become its own question, for she couldn't be sure that that's what they were just yet. But after a few seconds, her optical memory confirmed it.

"I dunno, but I—"

"Quick, trade seats with me." An idea had just entered Vesperra's mind, and she was already halfway out of her chair.

"Wait—what?" said a confused Damien, having been caught off guard.

"I said to trade seats with me—and do it nonchalantly; I don't want to attract attention."

"I—alright," he said, standing up to have his seat almost instantly replaced with his younger cousin, "but why—"

"I need to _see_ Bagman to figure out what he's saying—just hold on—"

Furrowing her brow and now focusing hard on the shadowy corner where Bagman was sitting (and not at all on Damien), Vesperra slipped her wand out from her sleeve again and pointed it as inconspicuously as she could at him, thinking: _Sonorego._

"—need is more time, and I swear I'll have your money, I—how can you expect me to pay you back until the tournament's over?" Bagman was whispering frantically, looking very nervous and even a bit frightened as he looked down at the goblins in front of him. They all had their arms crossed and were looking very menacing.

"You've already taken your time," said one of the goblins in his low growl of a voice, sounding very strange in broken English. And then, he turned and said something to his more-wrinkled neighbor in a language Vesperra didn't understand—it must have been Gobbledegook, the goblin language. More of the goblins joined in on the brief conversation, and Bagman, apparently not understanding them, looked even more scared.

"Look, _please,_" said Bagman, interrupting their chatter as he bent further over the table, "just allow me time—I swear that I can make Potter's win happen, and then when I win back all those Galleons, I'll have more than enough to pay back you and—"

"And how many other of your debts, hm?" demanded a goblin in a hiss. "You're in too deep—_Viudnik!_" He pounded his little fist on the table as he said that, making Vesperra pretty sure that it was some sort of goblin swear-word. Possibly the equivalent of "damn you."

The same goblin began talking in very fast Gobbledegook directly to Bagman, who leaned back and away from him, confused and desperate. Vesperra could only pick a few goblin words out of it—and it didn't matter, anyway, because she still couldn't understand it. But she continued to listen.

"Hey—I can't—I don't know what you're saying," said Bagman, "but I know you don't care about my other debts—you only want your own money. And frankly, I'm afraid of you, so obviously I'm going to pay you off first, you really shouldn't care about what my other betters are going to do to me—"

And… more Gobbledegook. Feeling that she'd heard enough and that she'd made Damien wait too long, her head even beginning to hurt from listening to such a gravelly-sounding language, Vesperra at last dropped her focus. She felt momentarily dizzy as she could suddenly no longer see the shadowy corner so clearly and was looking at her cousin instead, and she decided to remedy it with a sip of butterbeer.

Damien was staring at her with an extremely confused expression, but it changed once he realized that she had now "snapped out" of what must have looked like a trance-like state. Especially now that she was returning her wand to her sleeve.

"Er… what the hell was that all about?" he said bluntly, looking from Bagman to her.

She paused to take another casual drink of butterbeer. The tankard was half-empty now. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with…. It was mostly Gobbledegook, anyway…," she said dismissively, still focusing more on what she'd just heard than the man in front of her. It had, after all, been confirming something she and Severus had theorized about—and it could possibly create many more….

"Oh—well, I actually know a bit of Gobbledegook—"

_What._ "Really?" Her head snapped up to him instantly, and she almost choked on her butterbeer. He seemed surprised at her sudden enthusiasm.

"Er—yes, you know, working with magical creatures like my father and I do, learning other creatures' languages was useful…. Do you—need something translated?"

_Merlin, this is absolutely perfect._ Vesperra didn't think she'd appreciated having Damien for a cousin since he'd given her the Antimony—and she hadn't even known he was her cousin back then. "I can't really remember much of it, but—wait, I think I remember one thing the goblin said, but I might be wrong… '_Slaytna_… _nevkot_….' Maybe? Damn, I'm not sure…." _Why didn't I pay more attention to them, dammit…?_

She remained angry with herself until she heard Damien say, probably after taking a few seconds to think, "I'm pretty sure that's 'You'll regret it.' Anything else?"

In spite of its uselessness in helping her, Vesperra was somewhat less angry with herself. "I—no, I don't really remember anything else the goblins said… Except—'_Viudnik_'?"

Damien sniggered into his tankard, smirking over the rim of it as he drank. And when he began to set it back down again—"I don't think you want to know what that means."

_Didn't think I would._ Vesperra smirked as well, though still wishing she could have her cousin translate all the Gobbledegook. But the only way she could see that happening was if she managed to teach Sonorego to him within a few minutes. Which would have been impossible. And so, she stored what she heard from Bagman in the back of her mind to be pondered upon and discussed with Severus later.

"So," said Damien, "what's Bagman talking to those goblins for? They look angry."

Pausing a few seconds to just stare at him, Vesperra decided that it really wouldn't matter if he knew the vague facts about it. After all, she didn't even know much about it yet herself. "They are," she told him. "I think he owes them money."

"Poor bastard," Damien said at once, a bit of ironic laughter in his voice. "I would _not _want to be him..."

"Hm." Vesperra hoped she had established the air of changing the subject with that. "Weren't you going to tell me about your mother? You said you made progress with getting her and your father back together—"

"Ah—yes, I did!" His eyes suddenly glittering, he smiled as though he was a young child launching into a fantastical story—and then proceeded to contradict that as he scratched at his stubbly goatee. "Well, as you probably remember from the last time we talked, I'd gotten my father to actually try and write her… but that wasn't working. Since she was just ignoring all of those, I decided that the only way was to actually _go_ to her…. So I convinced my father to Apparate to the outside of Cardiff with me, where she lives, and we found the nearest pub and stayed there. Of course, we had someone watch the shop in Knockturn Alley—Scabior again, since we were there a few days…. My father wasn't even as paranoid about it as he might've been, because I've managed to change his mind a _lot_ about how this isn't all just a waste of time…. Anyway, he went down to the bar and stayed there to wait for a sight of my mum, since I knew she spent a lot of time there from what I'd seen when I was spying on her and her husband"—Vesperra felt a squirm of discomfort at the reminder of the murder she'd helped commit—"and he did see her the first couple days, but she didn't notice _him_ until the third. I was watching from the back of the pub the whole time, even though my father didn't want me to, so I saw her walk up to him and start talking. I couldn't hear them, but I think she got upset at some point because she slapped him in the face and walked out. And now I can't ask my father about something I wasn't supposed to see in the first place, so I don't really know what happened… but it's still excellent, isn't it?"

To that, Vesperra simply stared at him for a few seconds before saying, "Er… I thought you were trying to make progress?"

"I did!" he argued—though his face showed that he must have known he'd have to explain this further. "My mother talked to him, didn't she? And whatever it was that went down, I say that a slap in the face is still progress." Smirking, Damien then proudly took a drink of his butterbeer.

"Alright, if you say so…," Vesperra muttered to herself, briefly glancing around on habit—and once back to Ludo Bagman, who still seemed to be talking rather low and rapidly to the angry goblins. And then a thought came to her that felt very odd because of the sheer _normalcy_ of it and how it had never crossed her mind to utter anything similar before—but she still decided to say it, if only to continue the conversation. But also because she _did_ want to know…. "You know, you've spent quite a lot of time trying to repair your _father's_ love life…. Do you even have one yourself? You are, after all, reaching your mid-twenties…."

Her cousin's expression didn't appear at first to have changed at all, but then something glinted in his eyes and some sort of pleasant shadow passed over his face. He looked down at the table, apparently picking at a knot in the wood absentmindedly, and smirked very slightly but in a way that somehow radiated smugness.

"Well… yes, there is… someone," he admitted. It was now obvious that his happiness (or giddiness?) had grown considerably at her question—enough for Vesperra to smirk inwardly in amusement. "I suppose you could say I'm in a relationship." He continued to pay attention to the table rather than her for another couple seconds and then looked upward again.

Despite her usually not getting into this sort of thing or caring at all about who other people were dating, she couldn't help her curiosity. Besides—Damien was her cousin, so that had to count for something.

"Who is she?" asked Vesperra casually, lifting up her tankard for a drink.

"He."

If she had had a mouthful of butterbeer yet, she might have choked on it, just a little. "What?"

"It's a he," Damien repeated, just as casually and looking unfazed. "I have a boyfriend."

"Oh." _…OH._ That was all she had to say for a moment. While she figured that a lot of people might have felt awkward, she, for some reason, didn't. It was merely a slight surprise (who _would_ have expected to hear that?), and otherwise she just felt completely normal. Her cousin's preferences really didn't matter to her at all. _And it does sort of make sense, now that I think about it…._

"What's his name, then?" said Vesperra, filling the silence. She could tell, now, that Damien's calmness had been somewhat feigned and that he was probably feeling a bit awkward himself—until he heard her ask that question, at which his focus turned sharply towards her.

"So—you don't mind?"

"Why would I?"

"I thought perhaps… Oh, nevermind," Damien cut himself off in obvious relief, even exhaling deeply in what seemed like sort of a laugh. "His name's Sebastian, and he's the 'friend' I mentioned before—the one who kept the dragon until we were able to get rid of it. We've been together since last June—but that's really all you need to know. There _are_ some questions I wanted to ask _you_, you know…. And, speaking of relationships, I heard about the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. Tell me about it."

She automatically frowned, the side of her lip curling. "I went, but only for the food," huffed Vesperra, "and _no_, before you ask, I didn't bring a date. I don't want any sort of relationship at all—Severus is enough. I don't need anything but a friend. And a cousin, I suppose."

Not looking at all put-off, Damien sniggered. "I thought you might say something like that…. Tell me about the First Task, though—I heard there were dragons."

And so, after a short, inward sigh, Vesperra went into a short summary of what had happened during the First Task. Before she had gotten past Krum's use of the Conjuctivitis Curse, though, something caught her eye that made her stop. Breaking off without warning, she watched the back of the room, where Bagman was leaving his booth full of goblins and heading to the other side of the pub… straight towards Potter.

_Oh_ _Merlin—what are the chances of this happening? I am _not_ passing this one up._ Feeling oddly very pleased with the convenience of her having been in here when this happened, she pulled out her wand again. It was on a small chance, though, that she actually remembered who else was there and was considerate enough to tell him beforehand: "Hold on—I'm sorry—but I've really got to listen to this—" _Well, more like eavesdrop._

After a mental uttering of the spell Severus had invented and the application of some extreme focus, the end of the bar opposite from her was suddenly very clear and felt as though it was directly in front of her. Anxiously, she maintained a strong focus and listened.

"—just thought I'd congratulate you again on your splendid performance against the Horntail, Harry," Bagman was saying with what looked like feigned—and nervous—enthusiasm. "Really superb."

"Thanks," said Potter, sounding like he felt awkward. Bagman must have as well, for he glanced behind him—apparently back at the goblins.

"Absolute nightmare," said Bagman in an undertone. "Their English isn't too good… it's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup… but at least _they_ used sign language another human could recognize. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook… and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. _Bladvak._ It means 'pickax.' I don't like to use it in case they think I'm threatening them." Completely contrasting with his obvious fear and nervousness and the air of having something very large to hide, he then let out a short, booming laugh.

Perhaps he was simply trying to lessen the awkwardness between him and Potter… because he clearly wanted something important from him….

"What do they want?" said Potter.

"Er—well…" The man's nervousness became suddenly much more pronounced and evident in more than the fact he had just left a table full of angry goblins. "They… er… they're looking for Barty Crouch."

It didn't surprise Vesperra in the least that he would lie about that—of course Bagman wasn't going to tell Potter that he was betting on him. She _was_ surprised, though, that the man was rather bad at lying.

"Why are they looking for him here? He's at the Ministry in London, isn't he?"

"Er… as a matter of fact, I've no idea where he is. He's sort of… stopped coming to work. Been absent for a couple weeks now. Young Percy, his assistant, says he's ill. Apparently he's just been sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind not mentioning that to anyone, Harry? Because Rita Skeeter's still poking around everywhere she can, and I'm willing to be she'd work up Barty's illness into something sinister. Probably say he's gone missing like Bertha Jorkins."

And Skeeter's not the only one who would have done that…. Vesperra had already heard of Bertha Jorkins's lengthy absence from Severus, who regularly checked the _Daily Prophet_ for things of the sort, but several discussions on the matter had given them no new grounds for theories about Voldemort—after all, the number of possibilities for the reason he might have captured or killed the woman was endless. And so the stalemate had remained a stalemate. But neither of them had known about Barty Crouch…. This was getting quite interesting.

"Have you heard anything about Bertha Jorkins?" asked Potter.

"No." Bagman looked strained again. "I've got people looking, of course… and it's all very strange. She definitely _arrived_ in Albania, because she met her second cousin there. And then she left the cousin's house to go south and see an aunt… and she seems to have vanished without trace en route. Blowed if I can see where she's got to… she doesn't seem the type to elope, for instance… but still…. What are we doing, talking about goblins and Bertha Jorkins? I really wanted to ask you"—he lowered his voice, but Vesperra could still ironically hear him more clearly than anyone else in the pub but Potter could—"how are you getting on with your golden egg?"

_Ah. Of course. That's all he wants._

"Er… not bad," said Potter a bit too hastily and in a way that made it obvious he was lying. And in spite of his previously apparent lack of intelligence or the ability to read people, Bagman seemed to realize this.

"Listen, Harry," he said, "I feel very bad about all this…" (_No you don't,_ thought Vesperra) "you were thrown into this tournament, you didn't volunteer for it… and if…"—he lowered his voice even more—"if I can help at all… a prod in the right direction… I've taken a liking to you… the way you got past that dragon!... well, just say the word."

_And were you the one who threw him into it…? _If Vesperra hadn't had to keep her eyes open at a normal width for the duration of the spell, she would have narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Well, she was narrowing her eyes internally. And it looked like Potter was narrowing his, beneath his glasses, just a bit.

"We're supposed to work out the clues alone, aren't we?" said Potter evenly.

"Well… well, yes," said Bagman, actually sounding impatient, "but—come on, Harry—we all want a Hogwarts victory, don't we?"

"Have you offered Cedric help?"

Frowning very slightly, Bagman admitted, "No, I haven't. I—well, like I say, I've taken a liking to you. Just thought I'd offer…"

"Well, thanks," snapped Potter, clearly a little irritated, "but I think I'm nearly there with the egg… couple more days should crack it."

Looking almost affronted (possibly guessing that Potter had just lied, like Vesperra was?), Bagman seemed to be about to say something but was interrupted by two boys with identical red hair and freckled faces—the Weasley twins. All Vesperra could do was wonder what those boys wanted with him….

"Hello, Mr. Bagman," said one of the twins brightly. "Can we buy you a drink?"

"Er… no," he said, throwing what looked like a disappointed glance at Potter, "no, thank you boys…" Okay, _that_ was weird. And suspicious. Vesperra couldn't think of any reason why Fred and George Weasley would have made him nervous—unless, perhaps, it was just that the man's conversation with Potter had been cut off. "Well, I must dash. Nice seeing you all. Good luck, Harry."

As Bagman hurried out of the pub, followed by all the goblins (who looked even angrier now), Vesperra let her focus break. Even as she slid her wand back into her sleeve, though, her face remained turned towards where he had just been. She was frowning softly, her lips slightly parted as she began to think deeply about what had just gone on.

"Alright, what was _that_ one about?" Damien's voice filtered through the quickly growing walls around her mind—which she hadn't been doing on purpose. And without even looking at him, she imagined that he must have been very annoyed. How long had she been eavesdropping, anyway…? "And what's got you so interested in Ludo Bagman?"

"Well, you pretty much just answered your first question with your second," said Vesperra calmly, as though she had done nothing wrong—or at least nothing that would have been generally deemed annoying. She glanced at her tankard and lifted it slightly to see that there was still a bit left. "And I can't really tell you the answer to the second one."

Her cousin frowned, but she only had to look at it for a split second before she tilted her head back so that she could drink the last of her butterbeer. Then he let out a short, quiet laugh.

"You make it sound like you're part of some secret organization and the information's confidential or something…."

"Nope, not in any organization," she told him seriously. "But it is sort of confidential. I'm just… rather suspicious of Bagman. And I'm not going to tell you my reasons, so don't ask. It's just important that I know if he's doing something that's unusual or suspicious." It didn't cross her mind to apologize for having seemed to be ignoring him.

"Oh," said Damien, pursing his lips as though he was thinking about it. "Well… good luck with that, then, whatever it is you're doing."

He apparently didn't have anything on his mind to say after that, for he went silent and began twisting his empty tankard in his hand out of boredom. Normally, Vesperra might have broken it off and just told him that it was nice seeing him and left, but she still had a few questions on her mind that she only had to dig out of the back of her mind. She also wanted to quickly change the subject, so she spoke up the moment a thought came to mind:

"Damien, have you ever heard of Blast-Ended Skrewts?"

* * *

**Damien's back! I hope you guys liked both hearing about what's gone on in his life and Vesperra spying on Bagman...**

**Anyway, there's this thing I noticed that will only make sense to you if you watch or read Hetalia, so if you do, PLEASE read this. Alright, so I might have, completely unintentionally, made Damien almost exactly like Spain. I didn't even know what Hetalia _was_ when I made his character, but for some reason whenever I write scenes with him, all I see is Spain. But it goes even weirder than that, because now there's SO many more connections... If Damien is Spain, I'm pretty sure Vesperra is Romano (in a completely non-Spamano way), and for several reasons:**

**1. Spain is technically Romano's older brother, and Damien is Vesperra's older cousin. And both Damien and Spain are definitely the more cheerful ones.**  
**2. Romano and Vesperra have very similar personalities, at least in the levels of rudeness. They both hate nearly everything. For Vesperra, the exception is Severus... For Romano, it's tomatoes.**  
**3. I've always associated Germany with Malfoy because of his hair... Romano hates Germany. Vesperra hates Malfoy.**  
**4. And here's the indefinitely weirdest (and almost creepy) similarity of all: They're both half-Italian. Vesperra's half-Italian genetically because of her dad; and Romano is South Italy, _literally_ making him half of Italy.**

**I swear, none of this was intentional. It just doesn't make sense how all of this can fit so well... Oh, and I also think that Damien's boyfriend, Sebastian, could be France. I don't ship Frain (Spamano and FrUK are two of my OTPs), but J. Michael Tatum, who voices Sebastian from Black Butler, also voices France in Hetalia.**

**Aside from all the Hetalia mindfuck, PLEASE review! ^_^**


	63. Book 4: Chapter 17

**I'm extremely sorry that I had to take an extra week with this chapter, but I'm in tenth grade and it's nearing the end of the year, so... yeah. It's been a lot of work. I knew it would have been way too much stress on myself if I tried to finish this chapter last week and prepare a speech and make up an essay at the same time. I also can't guaruntee that it won't happen again before the summer gets here, because, once again, I've been having a lot of work lately.**

**Also, if anyone here likes Hetalia, I've written FrUk and GerIta oneshots... You know, in case you want to check them out.**

* * *

"Well, I'm glad you didn't have to jump out of a third-story window this time…."

Severus sighed and absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, then brought it back to rub his temple. He thought about the somewhat vague but nevertheless important information Vesperra had come to him with as soon as she'd gotten back from Hogsmeade—which had been earlier than expected, since she'd been anxious to tell him everything.

"So am I," agreed Vesperra, looking up at her friend, who was now thinking deeply. She reached up without thinking and softly brushed the side of his face where he was rubbing with the back of her hand. It wasn't necessarily to calm him down (she didn't even think he wasn't calm at the moment)—she had just felt like it. And she thought he needed it for some other reason.

Before she could let her hand fall, Severus removed his left hand from the side of his head and took hers so that it fell to the space between them.

"And it's rather convenient that your cousin knew some Gobbledegook—"

"—or it would've been if I had remembered more for him to translate, you mean."

"Well, yes. But either way, the next time I see him, I'll still have to thank him. And we have what we wanted to know, anyway—Bagman _did_ place a bet on the outcome of the Triwizard Tournament, and he bet on Potter winning."

Vesperra detected a twitch of Severus's upper lip as he leaned back into the couch, but she couldn't be sure whether it had potentially been a wry smirk or a snarl. Considering that her own lips twitched into an ironic grimace, she might have bet on the former, though.

"He's also in quite a large debt right now," she said, "and a lot of it is with goblins, so he's afraid. Bagman's already tried to give Potter help—definitely more times than just today, too. He'd probably give anything but whatever money he has left to make sure Potter wins just so he can pay off everything he owes."

"The bastard likely won't even have enough to pay off _everything_ on the small chance that he does win…. It sounds like he owes much more than he can afford. He's screwed either way. However… this puts him higher on our list. I say we have plenty more reason to suspect that _he_ put Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire—though we still can't be absolutely sure."

"We can _never _be absolutely sure without direct proof," sighed Vesperra. She took a long, deep, and rather noisy intake of breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she paused to think. "Is it weird that I can't decide whether or not I'd rather Bagman have done it?"

"Hm?" Frowning at her question, Severus looked down to her. The slight creases in her forehead (which made him hope the premature-aging effects of stress would spare her) and her pursed lips showed that she was thinking hard, contemplating something with frustration. The question seemed to have come out of her with her only vaguely realizing it—almost… boredly. And he wasn't entirely sure how to interpret it, let alone how to answer it.

Vesperra shifted so that she could look at him, and he decided that perhaps she had been perfectly aware of the question she'd asked after all. "On one hand, Bagman being the perpetrator would mean that Potter's involvement in the Triwizard Tournament has nothing to do with You-Know-Who," she started to explain, "and that would mean one less thing for you—for _us_—to worry about. But at the same time, it's just plain _annoying_ for Bagman to be the root of all this. I know I should be hoping for us to have no people secretly working for You-Know-Who in or around the school, but it's hard to do that when that also means _Ludo Bagman_ has been the one evading our—and even _Dumbledore's_—notice. It would make me angry to know that such a stupid man could cause such a problem—and not even for a good reason! If it _was_ him, he didn't do it because he's working for You-Know-Who and needs to get Potter out of the way or for any other sinister reasons: He did it because he's a low-life idiot who makes and loses too many bets and doesn't care if he has to endanger the life of a child to pay them off. That's not evil; it's _cowardly_, and that's just…"

"Boring?" Severus offered, almost smirking with amusement and appreciation at how Vesperra's mind worked—and how she had explained her thought process to him.

"Yes." She lowered her eyelids and pursed her lips in an indication of an almost-smirk. "And aggravating."

"Well… I can definitely see what you mean, and I don't blame you. I can't say it's not weird, though, because neither of our minds function exactly like other people's do."

"Which I view as a good thing, because otherwise that would be both inefficient and boring," Vesperra half-huffed. They both kept a straight face until they glanced at each other a few seconds later and exhaled sharply in suppressed laughter.

The next minute or so was filled with silence as Severus and Vesperra thought about it all, the specifics ranging from vague and fleeting to serious—and they would change quickly, like tiny little firecrackers of varying sizes and intensities going off inside their heads. It was simply impossible to decide what they wanted to focus on individually, especially since they weren't sure of the status of certain things—as to which they still needed to be considered or decided or not.

After some time, Vesperra slowly looked over to Severus (which his height and the direction of his gaze prevented him from noticing) and then down to their joined hands. At her slight shift, he actually did notice her moving and looked over.

"How's your—er… Mark been?" she asked softly and carefully, hoping that it didn't sound like it was out of nowhere. She didn't like to mention it, since she'd easily observed that Severus hated that part of him and didn't want to be reminded of it, but it was an important question to ask. This was the time before a possible—no, _probable_—war, and it was counter-productive to be immature about things. The adult in her—the bit of her that was already rather aged, weary, feeling as though it had been through a thousand wars, which no girl her age should have had inside her—had felt the need to ask, despite how much the child in her, which was quickly receding, wanted to pretend her worries weren't there.

As Severus's eyes followed hers downward, Vesperra softly released his hand from her grip and moved hers down to his forearm. She only held it just barely, her grip extremely soft and almost nonexistent. He could have easily pulled his arm away from her, but he didn't.

There was no pain shooting through his arm, as he had, for some reason, feared, but he felt oddly uncomfortable. His sleeve was down, though, so he didn't have much of a problem with it….

"It hasn't… stung lately," Severus told her. "Not since the last time, which I told you about. But I suspect it will soon, if only to keep it going at regular intervals."

Rather than replying with anything, Vesperra slid her hand back down his forearm to grab his hand. Slowly, she lifted their clasped hands upward and toward her face, then pressed her lips to the back of his hand, at which his eyes widened very slightly and his muscles relaxed—but he said nothing. She remained silent but for a small "Hm" as she let their hands fall again and settle in the space between them, wondering how much it hurt when Severus's Dark Mark stung…. Was it like the way the scar on _her_ left forearm used to sting sometimes when she became too angry, before she had started taking that potion every month?

She hoped not.

* * *

It was the middle of the night, and for a moment Severus was wondering why the hell he was even awake. But in the next couple seconds, he could hear properly (which had been hindered in his haze of half-consciousness), and he realized that there was a loud banging and wailing noise. Thanks to the lack of acoustics in his dungeon bedroom, he couldn't quite tell where it was coming from… but he _could _tell it was somewhat distant because of the muffled quality.

_That _was what had woken him up… so it couldn't have began more than half a minute ago. But what could it have been? Well, it wasn't likely to be anyone doing what they were supposed to do, especially not when it couldn't have been earlier than about one in the morning at the moment.

Several thoughts ran through his mind in a matter of a few seconds; it could have been a student, but it might have been something more serious… possibly something to do with whoever the traitor in their midst was? He wasn't going to take chances. Hell, he wouldn't have left it be even if there was no chance it was anything but a student—both his spy and professor instincts were kicking in right now.

Quickly, he threw off his sheets and grabbed his wand off of his bedside table; it was nearly pitch-black inside his bedroom, as there were no windows and no lit torches, but he put his wand in the same exact place every night, so the action of grabbing it was almost involuntary. And Severus didn't see the need to light the torches in his room right now, however little effort it would have taken, so he simply lit the tip of his wand with a nonverbal _Lumos_.

Thanks to many years of living and magical practice, he had easily made the ball of light strong enough to keep the area around him much more than dimly lit. First making sure he was wearing both a shirt (he was, and it was the long nightshirt Vesperra had given him for his birthday) and pants (_check_), he strode around his bed and across the room to his office door.

He had meant to just be passing through his office, but he stopped dead when he saw the state that it was in. A few of the torches lining the walls were lit, and the door to one of his ingredients cupboards was opened. Clearly, someone had been in there, and they had been looking for something….

No curse word came to mind that could sum up the anger he was now feeling. Whoever it had been, they had managed to get through the wards he kept on his door and rifle through his personal ingredients storage _while he was sleeping_ and then leave, probably having found whatever they had been looking for, all without him waking up. Oh, he'd had ingredients stolen from him before, but never while he was in the next room over…. _How?_ He wanted to scream it, and to kick something while he screamed it, because doing all that should have been impossible. And there was also the indignation at someone having _dared_ to steal from him.

Surely this had something to do with the banging and wailing he had heard…. Except Severus couldn't think of any scenario in which that was possible, since he was sure the noise couldn't have been _in_ his office. Which was because he could still hear it—until it stopped a second later. _But for what reason?_

Unwittingly flexing his fingers, he scowled and gritted his teeth and tried to keep himself from doing anything rash. He hadn't moved since he'd seen the state of his office, as the mere shock of waking up to this had frozen him.

In spite of his rising anger, though, Severus was able to keep his now fully-awake mind rational and decide that the only thing left to do was to continue investigating the noise. There was no time to check and see what had been stolen—he'd do that later. And so, wand in hand (which now felt like a sword because of the angry grip he was holding it with), he walked swiftly toward the door and wrenched it open. Once he was out in the dungeon corridor, he slammed it shut.

Because the noise had stopped, there was no longer any way to tell where it had originated. But Severus walked quickly through the dungeon corridors and caught no sign of anything but some spiders and the occasional rat, so he decided that he would have a better chance upstairs.

The Entrance Hall was completely empty too, and with no other noises, he huffed and figured he'd have to go with mere instincts—until he was just about to pass the arched entrance to a narrow corridor and heard a low mrowling from what could only have been Mrs. Norris.

Soon after he started down that path, following the cat noises, he put out the magical ball of light on his wand, for the corridors were moonlit enough for him to see just fine. And just as his frustration was about to reach its peak, he finally came upon the caretaker, who was wearing an old flannel dressing gown and standing halfway up a staircase. He was also holding a large, golden egg—a Triwizard clue from the First Task. Severus would have wondered what the man was doing with it if he wasn't livid about his office.

"Filch? What's going on?" he demanded, coming to a stop at the base of the staircase and looking up at the caretaker. His voice was acidic and dangerous, which sounded odd even to himself at this late hour. But he didn't care.

"It's Peeves, Professor," whispered Filch malevolently, even sounding somewhat creepily and wickedly delighted. The man's less-than-furious tone of voice made Severus angry. "He threw this egg down the stairs."

Narrowing his eyes, Severus tried to make sense of things. The egg and Peeves and his office just didn't add up—or at least not so far. But rather than trying to put two and two together, he could only try to extrapolate from incomplete data. More annoyance now added to his anger, he climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch.

"Peeves?" said Severus softly, staring at the golden egg in his hands and trying to figure out what this thing had to do with anything but the noise. "But Peeves couldn't get into my office…."

"This egg was in your office, Professor?" said Filch confusedly, Mrs. Norris sitting directly next to his left foot and apparently staring up the stairs.

"Of course not," he snapped, refraining somehow from calling Filch an idiot or something worse—but he wasn't sure why he had made the effort to do so. "I heard banging and wailing—"

"Yes, Professor, that was the egg—"

"—I was coming to investigate—"

"—Peeves threw it, Professor—"

"—and when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Somebody had been searching it!" Amidst his anger, he was at least glad to have finally gotten a full sentence out, as Filch's interruptions had aggravated him further.

"But Peeves couldn't—"

"I know he couldn't, Filch!" he snapped again, his voice suddenly louder and more nasal than usual. "I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!" His knuckles were white now, his face was screwed up in anger, and he was practically baring his teeth at the caretaker. His eyebrows knitting together in a deep scowl, he narrowed his eyes further and snapped his head to the left to look up the empty stairs, then to the right to look downstairs into the corridor below. Nothing. Although, he didn't know what he'd expected.

"I want you to come and help me search for the intruder, Filch," Severus said smoothly, though it was nearly a growl.

Filch's wrinkled face dropped into a look of disappointment as he sputtered, "I—yes, Professor—but—" The man then cut himself off to look yearningly up the stairs, clearly wishing to continue his search for Peeves instead. Before Severus could growl some sort of insult or express his resentment that the other man was wasting time, though, Filch looked back to him and said plaintively, "The thing is, Professor, the Headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, it might be my chance to get him thrown out of the castle once and for all—"

_Merlin, how far does this obsession with Peeves go?_ "Filch, I don't give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it's my office that's—"

But Severus stopped talking very abruptly, for he had just heard an increasingly loud clunking noise. It was a horribly familiar sound, one of the only things unrelated to Voldemort that could spark dread or an extreme urge to leave the immediate area in him—and he could tell at once, just by the rate at which the clunks had come and without looking downstairs, who it was. He wasn't completely sure _how_ things would get worse because of this, but he simply didn't want the man to be here.

"Pajama party, is it?" growled Moody, stopping in the corridor in front of the bottom of the staircase. He was wearing his traveling cloak over a nightshirt and leaning on his staff, staring up at them. Severus scowled more deeply.

"Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor," said Filch at once, and Severus was pretty sure he knew what the man was doing. "Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual—and then Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken into his off—"

"Shut up!" hissed Severus. Between Filch taking every chance he got to try and move the search towards Peeves and Moody suddenly showing up, he felt like the night had turned into something satirical for someone else's purpose—and he did _not _like that. The most important thing was figuring out who had been inside his office, and he most certainly did _not _appreciate the seriousness of the situation being turned upside down… it was extremely frustrating. Almost to the point where his eye was twitching.

Moody took a step closer to the foot of the stairs, and his magical eye traveled slowly (which was a strange sight, since that electric blue eye was usually whizzing around to no end) over the two men on the staircase. It then stopped when it was focusing on neither of them and stayed like that for a few seconds, Moody's mouth opening slightly for some reason, which Severus found suspicious but didn't comment on. A moment later, Moody closed his mouth and looked back at Severus with both eyes.

"Did I hear that correctly, Snape?" he asked slowly. "Someone broke into your office?"

Even though the man was an Auror and had a magical eye that could see through things and was therefore probably his best bet in finding whoever had broken into his office, Severus loathed the idea of being helped by him. It was partly a pride thing, since he didn't like being dependent on anything or anyone (with the exception of Vesperra) or being shown-up. He didn't want to be seen by this man as someone who couldn't handle a simple problem like this and needed help from an Auror to catch what was probably just a student. Especially since this particular man already hated him and didn't respect him in the least.

And so, in spite of his anger about his office and suspicions that it might have been more than just a student and that Voldemort might have had something to do with this, he tried his best to keep calm and to unscrew-up his face.

"It is unimportant," he said coldly, clear refusal of any help etched in his words.

"On the contrary," growled Moody, "it is very important. Who'd want to break into your office?"

Severus's upper lip curled into a slight snarl, and the muscles in his temple tightened so much that he felt a vein throb. Now that he was practically being forced to answer, it would have been the smart thing to admit his concerns to the _one_ person who had been called specifically to Hogwarts this year to _deal_ with that sort of thing… but he still refused. His stubbornness wouldn't allow it.

"A student, I daresay," he finally allowed himself to say, though his voice was on edge. "It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard… students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt…."

"Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?" said Moody, almost sounding like he was mocking him. It was as though he _knew_ that Severus's true concerns lied elsewhere…. "Not hiding anything else in your office, are you?"

Feeling a mixture of resentment, loathing, indignation, and some sort of humiliation, Severus felt the blood rise to his face, which twisted slightly into an expression of cold loathing again.

"You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody," he said softly and dangerously, knowing and hating that this tone of voice wouldn't affect the man at all like it did students. He was no good as far as intimidation went right now. "As you've searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself."

His scarred face twisting into what might have been a smile (which could only be confirmed by context), Moody said, "Auror's privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye—"

"Dumbledore happens to trust me." Severus's teeth were clenched now, and all of the anger he'd been holding was now directed towards the man at the bottom of the stairs. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!"

He had never believed Moody about that, and he had good reason not to. Though the man obviously didn't know, Dumbledore trusted Severus based on his promise to protect Harry Potter after the woman he loved more than anything had been killed by Voldemort. And so he knew for a _fact_ that Dumbledore didn't doubt him for a second. He hadn't asked Dumbledore about it, though, and the only reason he could give himself for why he hadn't done so was out of fear of Moody. Still, though… how could the man distrust him _that_ much?—enough to lie and risk being caught in that lie? It made Severus wonder about how well he could trust _him_….

"'Course Dumbledore trusts you," growled Moody in an extremely aggravating way. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me—I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"

And then, as though on cue—as though Moody had somehow _caused_ it without having any connection to Voldemort but for having killed some of his men, there was a very sharp sting in Severus's left forearm. His right hand flew convulsively to seize where the Dark Mark was, though the pain had gone before he managed to even grab it. Very briefly, he glanced down at his arm, horrified that this had happened _now_ (but not showing it) and then back up to Moody.

Moody just laughed. And he must have realized what just happened—it was as though he was aware that he caused it, or was at least enjoying the coincidence. Whichever it was, it made Severus's blood boil and scream with fury. "Get back to bed, Snape."

"You don't have the authority to send me anywhere!" snapped Severus in an almost strangled hiss. At the same time, he jerked his hand away from his left arm, angry even with himself for not having been able to resist the convulsion in front of Moody—despite such a thing being near impossible. What stony composure he'd been able to keep was deteriorating as he scowled again. "I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!"

"Prowl away," said Moody menacingly. "I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some time…. You've dropped something, by the way…."

Severus felt another stab of horror, but this time at the thought that had immediately popped into his mind—that he had dropped his journal. But that wild fear dissipated almost as immediately as it had appeared, for he realized that he was wearing a nightshirt that didn't even have pockets and that his journal was still in his room.

But then he was confused, because he'd had nothing to drop. _What's he talking about, then…?_ Turning to look where Moody was pointing along with Filch, Severus saw a piece of parchment with something inked all over it lying on the staircase a step below him. At first glance, he hadn't been able to see it, but now he could tell that it was some sort of map…. And for a split second it was only vaguely familiar, but then he _realized_— and it was like the beginning of a chain of explosions was being set off in his mind….

Dawning, horrible comprehension on his face, Severus bent down and reached out for what he was suddenly absolutely sure was the Marauder's Map—

"_Accio Parchment!_"

Growing anger turned to shock, which turned to panic and then back to anger as everything was ruined, taken away from him with an effortless spell from Moody. The parchment slipped right through his outstretched fingers and soared down into Moody's hand, and at once Severus's neck snapped over to him, his face livid.

"My mistake," said Moody calmly, almost convincingly. "It's mine—must've dropped it earlier—"

The chain of explosions continued to go off, and Severus's eyes darted from the egg in Filch's arms back to the map, and it all came together as he realized one thing—

"Potter," he said quietly, almost hesitantly, like he couldn't bear to say his realization out loud and then have it ruined, and slowly standing up straight as he did.

"What's that?" Moody said, sounding much too _bloody_ calm. He folded up the map and pocketed it before Severus could say anything in protest—or rather, snarl it:

"Potter!" He wasn't so much as repeating it for Moody as he was calling out for the boy, who must have been _somewhere_ around there…. He turned around immediately to face the empty stairs above him—or _were_ they empty? "That egg is Potter's egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!"

Ignoring the voice that told him he was going mad (and what was worse, going mad in front of Moody), Severus stretched out his hands and began to walk up the stairs, knowing that if Potter was there, he'd touch him or brush past him and then find the little brat….

"There's nothing there, Snape!" barked Moody, stopping him. Almost as though he was panicking…. "But I'll be happy to tell the Headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!"

"Meaning what?" Severus didn't move his still-outstretched hands, but he turned his head to look at Moody. Really, this was one place the man _didn't_ have him… Dumbledore already knew how often he accused Potter and was no more than annoyed with it.

"Meaning that Dumbledore's very interested to know who's got it in for that boy!" said Moody, limping even nearer to the foot of the stairs, his wooden leg making a slow, dull _clunk _against the floor. "And so am I, Snape… very interested…." And in that moment, it was not only the ex-Auror's voice that made him menacing, but also the shadows caused by the suddenly flickering torchlight that made his scarred, mangled face look deeper and darker than ever. The pure eeriness made Severus's heart stop… it was, once again, as though Moody had _made_ that happen….

For a moment, nobody moved or said anything. Filch was still standing by in silence, watching nervously (and likely in confusion) and clutching the golden egg, Mrs. Norris twisting herself in between his legs. Severus was staring down at Moody, horribly unsure of what to do for what felt like the longest time.

Sure, Dumbledore trusted him and would definitely do so to the ends of the earth… but that was in regard to keeping Potter safe. In-school punishments and cruelty didn't count for that, and he was almost always reprimanded when his cruelty to Potter became known…. What if the Headmaster thought he was purposely dragging the boy down? Worse, though, what would he say to Moody to get him to at least remotely trust Severus? The story of the Prophecy and Lily could never be divulged… and if it wasn't, then convincing Moody would be impossible. Severus was clearly already hated by him, and refusing to comply at this moment would not, in any way, turn out good for him. Except, of course, for the fact that he might find Potter and prove Moody wrong….

But what if he _didn't_ find him there? That's what it was all weighing on. However unlikely Severus was sure that was, he had to assume it was possible.

Feeling defeated (though more like he was forcing himself to surrender as a military tactic) but still furious, he slowly lowered his hands and turned the rest of his body around to face Moody. "I merely thought… that if Potter was wandering around after hours again… it's an unfortunate habit of his… he should be stopped. For—for his own safety."

Merlin, he hated this. He hated having to force himself to stay calm, and he hated bending to Moody's will just to make sure he gave the man no reason to trust him any less. And he hated sugar-coating the words to make Potter sound like less of a delinquent than he was, especially when he _knew_ the other man knew it wasn't true.

"Ah, I see," said Moody softly. "Got Potter's best interests at heart, have you?"

There was a pause in which Severus felt the heart-shattering pain of how ironic was that the one thing capable of making Moody trust him, he could not tell him. In truth, he _did_ have Potter's best interests at heart—but who said that enjoyment of life and having no consequences for his actions were in the boy's best interests? Almost everything he did was to make sure that the boy stayed alive…. But he couldn't say that. _Damn everything._

"I think I will go back to bed," said Severus curtly, as he could think of nothing else to do. He was trapped in his decisions, and this was the only one left where he would retain at least some of Moody's respect and his own dignity.

"Best idea you've had all night," said Moody. "Now, Filch, if you'll just give me that egg—"

"No!" Filch shouted desperately, clutching the egg as though it were something very precious. And Severus had thought _he_ was mad…. "Professor Moody, this is evidence of Peeves's treachery!"

"It's the property of the champion he stole it from. Hand it over, now."

Severus never knew if Filch had put up more of a fight for it or not, since he immediately swept down the staircase, passing Moody without another word or backwards glance—or even paying attention to the scene around him any longer. However much his instincts were telling him to stay (which part of him very much wanted—and needed—to do), he couldn't bear to continue standing there. Besides, he had already said that he would go to bed.

As he stalked down the moonlit corridors and back to the dungeons, Severus was almost literally fuming. Once again, everything had been built up and then shattered. Ruined. Demolished. And _only_ for him.

And it was _all Moody's fault_. After all that had just happened, he had several reasons to be suspicious of him, too…. Severus _knew_ that Potter had been there, and he was just as sure of the fact that Moody had known Potter was there. There was no way that that piece of parchment had been anything but the Marauder's Map, and so the ex-Auror had _lied_. Again. And for what?—_clearly, for Potter._ How else would he have known it belonged to the boy without having been told?

Hold on… could Moody's magical eye see through Invisibility Cloaks? If so, everything suddenly made much more sense…. Severus had to stop walking just to process the thought: Moody had willingly helped Potter get out of trouble that he so obviously deserved, likely just to spite Severus and make him out to even be less trustworthy to Potter himself. Of _course_ that bastard was on the boy's side…. But—damn, he hadn't thought the man's favoritism would go this far!

By the time Severus reached his office, he was nearly shaking, and he was angry enough to kill something. Or someone. This was all just no—bloody—fair! He didn't give a damn that he'd said both to himself and plenty students before that _life_ wasn't fair; this was simply douchebaggery at its finest on Moody's side of it, and he was _not_ going to take it, dammit!

Except there was nothing he could do about it now. Not right at this moment, at least. So he settled for slamming the door rather harshly, not caring if it woke up every single Slytherin, and throwing a random book against the wall with all of his physical strength.

And with the rate at which his heart was beating, there was no way he was going to fall asleep now… not without the help of magic, at least. So Severus tried to contain the rest of his anger and refrain from punching the wall as he walked over to one of the potions cupboards near his desk and grabbed a Sleeping Drought. Once he made it back to his bed, he downed it, falling into a deep sleep almost at once.

But it was still anything but peaceful.

* * *

For what was probably the fifth time, Vesperra thought to herself that perhaps she should stop practicing charms before they were all slated to learn them _in_ Charms class. Sure, doing so gave her a head start above all the other fourth year Slytherins (and occasionally Ravenclaws, who they had classes with when it was a double lesson) who had yet to learn anything, and it allowed her to actually prove herself to be cleverer than all the rest of them—but it also caused her to be _hated_ even more by the rest of them, as well as being bored in lessons.

There was usually nothing more she could do to strengthen a spell when they were all told to practice it, since she had already mastered many of them on her own. And so she was often left rather bored and not wanting to just do the same spell over and over again. That also left her sitting at her desk with a lot of the other Slytherins glaring at her, even though she'd just won her House another five points from Flitwick. _Good Lord, there's just no way I can win, is there?_

Most spells that she actually _did _have to practice in-class these days were ones that she'd deemed useless and a waste of her time to learn and master on her own. She'd only wanted to do those—things like charming household objects to act like animals and whatnot—when she had to.

Today, they were practicing Banishment Charms, which was something Vesperra had practiced quite a lot on her own time. Although, she still felt like she needed a bit more practice to get it perfect and at its strongest, so she did plan on spending the rest of the lesson on this.

Practice with the nonverbal, that is. Using the spell while saying it out loud was no problem for her—she just needed to try a little more with the incantation only in her mind. Vesperra had attempted to master quite a lot of the spells she knew without saying them so far, a few of which she still had to work on—and it had turned into a priority for each new spell she learned, too.

Standing near a desk that she had to herself (as usual), Vesperra was jerking her wand at cushions and focusing with all of her might on each of them as she shouted the incantation in her mind, causing them to zoom across the room and land in the box at the front.

But, suddenly and completely unexpectedly, something hit her very hard in the back of the head and knocked her over. She had been in the middle of Banishing a cushion when her focus was lost (more like forced away from her), so the cushion in question flew in another direction. Whether it had hit a person or just the wall she didn't know, for she was soon looking at only the ground and the legs of the desk next to her.

If it hadn't been for her reflexes, Vesperra likely would have hit the floor face-first and broken her nose for… what, the third time?—fourth? Between all the times she'd been pushed to the floor by one of Malfoy's cronies and straight onto her face, she'd lost count. Of course, this automatically led her to be sure that it was Malfoy's doing that she had fallen to the floor and not a mere accident of someone who was doing very badly with the spell.

She also registered that she was rather lucky to have fallen directly forward and not to the side a bit, because then it would have been less likely that she could have caught herself, and her face would have slammed into the edge of a desk.

There was still a ringing pain, though, that throbbed in her side and her head from where she'd landed and been unable to protect from impact with the ground. It was slightly disorientating, but only for a couple seconds. Ignoring the laughter in the background that all but proved her assumptions, she began to push herself up off the ground—but before she could do much at all, someone else's hand came into view. Vesperra didn't have to move her eyes upward to the person's face to know who it was.

At once, she pushed herself to her knees on her own and then grabbed the edge of a desk to pull herself to a standing position. She then threw Nott, who had also drawn himself up to be standing straight, a side-glance as she brushed herself off.

"Did you honestly expect me to accept your help?" she muttered, half-grimacing and half-smirking. She remembered the last time Nott had offered her help and how badly it had turned out, how it had led to him picking up the Card and fate twisting so that she'd have no choice but to break his heart—not that she wouldn't have rejected him otherwise….

This time, though, she wasn't nearly as rude as she could have been. She hadn't even swatted his hand away.

"No," he sighed, briefly stuffing his hands into his pockets, "you're too proud. But it couldn't hurt to try."

Really? Was he _that_ thick?—after all it had hurt him the last time he tried? But Vesperra supposed this was a different situation, so….

Looking behind her, she saw a thick book on the ground about two feet away and a bit to the left. That must have been what had hit her…. She convulsively raised her hand to the back of her head, only now realizing how much that had hurt. _I'll have to get a Headache Potion from Severus later…._

"I think that might have been his revenge for Christmas," said Nott, noticing where she was looking and following her eyes.

"A bit late, don't you think?" she muttered, though agreeing with him. Although, it really was just as likely that Malfoy had seen a chance to both hurt her physically and humiliate her (which had worked, since most of the other Slytherins were still sniggering) and gladly taken it.

Vesperra glanced upward, and her eyes found Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the back of the room, being reprimanded by Professor Flitwick, who was likely giving them detention. It must have been strange to have to look _down_ to someone while they were reprimanding you…. She had luckily never done anything to be told off by the ridiculously short teacher.

And none of them had any attention to spare for her, which was the reason she figured Nott had taken the chance to try to help her in a classroom. Not that it mattered as much as it used to…. Some of the others must have been aware that Nott at least didn't mind her as much as they all did.

Though she knew it would only force the cycle of revenge to continue, Vesperra easily told herself that she didn't deserve what she'd gotten (especially considering how much Malfoy had done to deserve getting punched in the face) and decided she'd do something to get him back in the near future. But for now, a scolding from Flitwick and imminent detention was enough, so she returned her attention to practicing the Banishment Charm.

Vesperra had practically forgotten Nott was there until she heard him talk again, this time with an awed tone:

"Are—are you doing them… nonverbally?"

"Huh?" She turned her head, not hearing what he'd said until a couple seconds after he'd said it. "Oh—yeah, I am." Though she sounded casual about it (and only had to make a tiny bit of effort to do so), she was aware of what was coming. So she looked back to the stack of cushions and braced herself to display an awkward mix of smugness and humbleness.

"When did you learn _that_?" said Nott quietly and clearly extremely impressed. She didn't need to glance at him again to know the way he was staring at her—or the way he was trying _not_ to stare at her. "Aren't we supposed to learn non-verbal spells in our sixth year? That's…"

"I've been practicing throughout the year," said Vesperra dully, interrupting what was surely about to end with the word "amazing," "incredible," or "fantastic."

"Bloody brilliant."

Alright, well, her guesses were close.

"You could probably manage to learn how to do it too, if you practiced enough," she sighed, somewhat irritated—both at Nott, for being annoyingly admiring, and at herself, for feeling somewhat glad at his compliment. "It's not all that difficult." With that, she sent another cushion soaring straight into the box in silence.

"Well, for _you_, maybe not—but—"

"Before you say anything, _no_, I'm not going to teach you." There was a bit more edge to her voice just then, but it was mostly just her sounding stern. "I've got enough to deal with already." Between the workload she got from teachers and the time she spent with Severus and theorizing about Voldemort's inevitable return, she really didn't need something else to keep her busy. Especially not after what had happened last Thursday with Severus and Moody (and Potter, presumably), which had taken over her mind whenever she could afford to spare her focus since then.

"How did you know I—?—Oh, stupid question, nevermind…. But I suppose I'd just be a burden to you anyway. You're not exactly patient… hell, if you were a teacher, you'd probably be a lot like Professor Snape."

At that, her gaze snapped to him, but she didn't say the words that came to mind. Instead, she said, "Except I wouldn't favor Slytherins." That much was obvious, considering how badly she was treated by the lot of them…. "I wouldn't favor anyone…. I'd just be the one professor that everyone hated."

The look in her eyes _dared _him to disagree.

He looked like he wanted to, but he didn't.

* * *

The following month was oddly routine for both Severus and Vesperra. For the former, it was avoiding both Moody and Karkaroff at all costs and at the same time keeping an eye on them—which was a bit difficult to do. The trust that Severus had almost completely lost in Mad-Eye Moody was not told to Dumbledore, for there were a million things the Headmaster might have said to him that he didn't want to risk. He often wondered whether Moody had even actually told the old man anything about Potter….

And he didn't have to wonder about Filch, since Peeves hadn't left the castle. But Severus couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore always allowed the damned poltergeist to stay…. Sometimes it seemed like the only reason was just to spite Filch.

The only thing that veered away from the norm was, of course, visiting Lily's grave in Godric's Hollow on her birthday. He had been especially… well, _weepy_ then, since things were more dangerous than ever and he wasn't exactly on a good track to keeping her son safe. There was almost nothing he could do… and he had felt truly helpless on that night. And guilty. And wet, because of all the tears running down his face and onto his robes.

Meanwhile, Vesperra's days were like any other student's—well, as it seemed to most people, at least. No one could know what she spent her time thinking about and contemplating—except for her best and only friend, whom she told nearly everything. It was all Voldemort and the near future and Potter and Moody and Karkaroff on her mind as she struggled to string everything together and create a story that made sense. No—scratch that, it didn't need to make sense. Nothing that went on in the magical word, let alone Hogwarts, made sense.

So far, she'd come up with at least six ideas, all sounding more ridiculous as she went on. But she still told them all to Severus—if not for consideration, then only to feel like she was doing something significant in all this.

As far as her actual classes went (it was funny, you know, how Hogwarts was seeming less and less like a school these days…), Potter and Longbottom were still being bullied by Severus in Potions with every chance her friend got, Malfoy was still an arse all the time, Transfiguration and Charms were still focusing on the same spells (since so many people still didn't have the hang of them), and Care of Magical Creatures was still focusing on unicorns.

In that, however, one thing _had_ changed—Grubbly-Plank was gone and Hagrid had returned. Malfoy and the other Slytherins had been extremely disappointed the day they had arrived outside the Forbidden Forest and seen the half-giant grinning there (even Vesperra, but not as much as them), and Malfoy had taken it out on her later by throwing a rock at her that might have shattered her kneecap if it weren't for the Shield Charm she'd been able to put up.

…Except that might have been revenge for her magically making a potion splash up into his eyes that rendered him blind for at least an hour during Potions (which he'd had no proof was her, but it was obvious).

The one thing Vesperra had been dreading to come along with Hagrid was the return of dangerous creatures, but he luckily continued on with the unicorns. Week after week, they learned about, fed, and petted unicorns. Except Vesperra didn't do any of the petting; even the foals, which actually let the _boys _touch them, didn't let her get near them. She hadn't expected that they would have, anyway.

And then, in mid-February, a lot of things changed course when the whole of Hogwarts started talking about the upcoming second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Once again, though, the mindset of Severus and Vesperra concerning it was vastly different than everyone else's. There was the question of whether the traitor in their midst, whoever they were, was going to do anything, and, of course—whether Potter was going to live this time.

Vesperra had given up trying to get information about the tournament out of her friend, so she didn't bother him with questions about what the Second Task was going to be. He seemed glad that she wasn't doing that anymore, but also just a tiny bit disappointed. She found that amusing.

Eventually, it came to the point where all the students and teachers were walking out of the castle on the morning of the twenty-fourth. Dumbledore had told them all to go out to the stands that had been erected next to the lake, which had Vesperra wondering immediately about what the task was going to be—even though she knew she was going to find out within the next twenty minutes.

The same stands that had encircled the dragon enclosure during the First Task were lining one side of the lake, and on the other side was the judge's table, where Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Bagman, Crouch, and the champions were—well, three of the champions. Potter wasn't there. And Vesperra was sure that much of the suspicion rising inside of her was also Severus's.

She wasn't the only one around who noticed, either. She had moved away from her fellow fourth-year Slytherins and sat as far as she could from them, so now a lot of the people around her were Hufflepuffs (yes, bad idea, she knew, but better than sitting anywhere near Malfoy), but even a lot of them were pointing out that Potter was nowhere to be seen. It made sense that a lot of them would notice something like that, though, since they were all probably thinking that this boosted Diggory's chance of winning instead of Potter—even though they had considerably lightened their grudge on Potter ever since the First Task.

Over where many of the teachers were seated, Severus was staring down at the judge's table, his eyes narrowed as much as they could be without being closed. His attention to Potter's absence was partly to make him feel less nervous about Moody being nearby—but definitely more because he wanted to know where the hell that boy was. It was beginning to eat him from the inside…. Had something _happened_?—or was he just irresponsible enough to be late?

Time passed, but the volume of the now fully-seated crowd didn't decrease, and Potter still hadn't arrived. Other teachers were talking amongst themselves about why the fourth champion wasn't there, as were the students around them. It seemed people were speculating more on that than what the task was going to be.

Not that it was exactly difficult to figure it out now. Vesperra could easily deduce that the champions would have to dive into the lake, which could only mean a small number of things… either fight something or find something. More than likely it would be both, since there would definitely be obstacles even if their task was to find and retrieve something. There would also definitely have to be a time limit, if they were all going to go underwater….

And it was definitely going to be _all_ of them, for, in the next minute, Potter came running into view. Much of the crowd groaned in disappointment (which Vesperra did internally), and Severus, unbeknownst to anyone else, was relieved. Most of the judges down there seemed angry… she didn't blame them… but she could discern that Bagman was probably happier and more relieved than anyone else.

For a minute, Vesperra did nothing but stare at Bagman while he was spacing out the champions on the bank of the lake, though she doubted it would do any good or that she would manage to discern anything important from this distance. Although, she was pretty sure she could see him saying something to Potter as he moved him away from Krum, and Bagman had not spoken to any of the other champions….

_Damn, still doesn't prove anything._ Especially since there was no way she could hear what he was saying—_oh, wait!_ She could; she had her wand with her—but, damn. Too late now; Bagman had moved away from Potter and returned to the judge's table. Vesperra scowled.

Pointing his wand at his throat, Bagman amplified his voice with what could only have been a muttering of "_Sonorus_" and said, "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… _three_!"

The whistle was blown, echoing so shrilly in the cold air that Vesperra's ears hurt a bit—though that might have been because of the roaring applause that had erupted around her at once. And even though she should have been prepared to hear it, it was enough of a shock that she nearly fell off of her seat.

_Merlin, this tournament is going to make me deaf…._

Everyone's attention was directed down at the champions. Delacour and Diggory were both pointing their wands at their heads, where something that looked like a bubble was surrounding a few seconds later. Diggory managed to run out into the water and dive under first, though. Krum, on the other hand, ran out into the water first thing and now seemed to be Transfiguring himself, but… Good Lord. It wasn't working all the way….

Vesperra figured his nervousness must have caused him to lose focus on the spell he was doing, because Krum's head was now that of a shark's even though the rest of him was still human. It looked rather… she didn't know a good word for it. Gruesome? _Awesome?_ Just plain awkward? Well, either way, it must have been uncomfortable…. And she supposed it might actually have been on purpose, too, since having no arms would hinder him greatly in the fact that he wouldn't be able to hold his wand. It was just enough for him to have gills and be able to breathe underwater.

As Krum jumped in and there was no longer any sight of him, Vesperra noticed that Potter was just wading out into the water, his wand in one hand. Everyone else had their eyes on him now, too—and pretty much everyone else had either a look of confusion or was laughing.

"The hell's he doing?" shouted someone nearby, laughter in their voice.

Both Vesperra and Severus were sure that Potter must have failed to figure out the clue from the First Task or at least had had no idea how to prepare…. So was he going to try to just swim it out and hold his breath for an hour without any magical aid? _Idiot,_ they thought simultaneously though nowhere near each other.

Laughter and giggling were replacing the cheering, especially as Potter stopped when he was waist-deep in the water. There were several loud catcalls from some of the Slytherins, and even Vesperra was smirking. But then, for who knew what reason, Potter clapped his hands over his mouth and nose, and then around his throat. It seemed he was getting strange muscle spasms, too, because his back was convulsing a bit—and then he jumped awkwardly into the water. There was then a small, yet still audible gasp among the crowd, as no one had expected _that_.

Vesperra only half-expected him to come back up, since she knew _something _must have happened before Potter just plunged himself into the lake, so she wasn't all that surprised when Potter was still gone after several minutes.

"Looks like all of our champions are in the depths of the lake now!" said Bagman cheerfully, his voice still amplified. "All we can do now is sit tight and wait."

And thus commenced all the speculation about who was going to come up first, exactly what it was that the champions were supposed to retrieve, and—most of all—what the _hell_ Potter had done to be able to stay underwater. And they were all sure that he must have done something because if he had needed air, he would have come up for it already and not drowned.

So the crowd wasn't nearly as noisy as before, since there was now nothing to cheer about. It would be the better part of an hour before they saw anything interesting, so all there really was to do was talk. _…Then what was the bloody point of having us out here?_ thought Vesperra, aggravated. _It's not like we're actually watching anything…._

A thought then came to mind and Vesperra leaned forward, craning her neck and looking around everywhere for a sight of Severus. She just wanted to see what her friend was doing, if he was bored or looking at Bagman or Moody or anyone else….

And then, a minute or so later, she found his long, black hair in the crowd and matched it with his familiar face. It hadn't been difficult once she'd found where most of the teachers were sitting.

He was frowning deeply as usual, his face turned toward the judge's table. But he was too for away for her to really see where his eyes were, so his gaze could have been directed at any of the judges… or perhaps just the lake, since it was standing in between them. His eyes were narrowed and so she could tell he was rather suspicious about something…. She had a pretty good idea what it was, but she knew she'd just have to wait until later for him to share his thoughts with her.

Sighing inwardly, Vesperra stared vaguely at the mountains beyond the lake and wished that she could sit with Severus. Well, really, she wished that it was socially acceptable for a student to be close friends with a teacher so that neither of them would be ridiculed for sitting with each other. Except it obviously _was _(namely with Hagrid and Potter), and it was only _her_ that would have been ridiculed for it. Another inward sigh.

Meanwhile, Severus was staring at the surface of the lake, still baffled as to how Potter could have found a way to breathe underwater…. The necessary magical skills to do something like a Bubble-Head Charm or Human Transfiguration was far beyond the boy's abilities, so it couldn't have been anything like that. Were there any other, more obscure ways to breathe underwater? Any loopholes Potter might have found in something, anything that Severus might not have been able to think of off the top of his head?

Not that he was aware of. Although, he could have sworn that he'd seen Potter put something in his mouth while he was wading out, as though eating something…. And then he realized.

Only one thing came to mind when he thought of anything edible that would give someone the ability required for this task: Gillyweed. And that was a rare plant that Potter couldn't possibly have found anywhere but… Severus's office.

That was when he put everything together from the night his office had been broken into and he ran into Moody—this practically proved it! The day after, he had checked his stores for what was missing and found that it was all ingredients for Polyjuice Potion, and though he hadn't found any Gillyweed missing, Potter _must_ have stolen some that night…. Potter must have found out what the clue meant beforehand and then snuck out under his Invisibility Cloak because he knew he needed Gillyweed…. But how could he have broken into Severus's office without help?

Nevermind, that was an easy one: Moody. Moody had been favoring him since the start of the year, so he clearly wanted Potter to win the Triwizard Tournament… and the bastard had both helped the kid break into his office and then gotten him out of trouble by not revealing where he was on that staircase and taking the Marauder's Map, which would have been the ultimate proof, away!

It would have been an instinctual action to look toward Moody, who was sitting far down the row in the stands, automatically, but Severus knew that the man would notice it with that bloody eye of his. And he knew he couldn't approach him later, either….

He really didn't know why, but he just couldn't. And if it was out of fear, he wasn't going to admit that.

But it all made so much sense now. Of course Severus wanted Potter to live, and Moody was technically helping him do that—if his assumptions were correct… but the fact that it was on the terms of the damned brat _stealing_ from him and having him humiliated while in his pajamas made him so _immeasurably_ angry. Besides, it hadn't _just_ been the Gillyweed…. There was the Boomslang Skin and Bicorn Horn (along with some other ingredients) as well.

All he could do, however, was sit there and wait. He'd have to wait for the champions to come up (they _would_ all come up, right?), and then for the next time he saw Potter. He'd have to wait for his chance at some sort of revenge, or at least to express his anger to Potter…. What was the boy doing with Polyjuice Potion, anyway?

And—_hold on…_ Severus just remembered that those exact ingredients had been stolen earlier in the year as well. Had that been Potter too? What was the boy _up_ to?

This was the reason he hated his life so much. Well, only sometimes.

The person responsible for the fact that it was only sometimes, who was sitting rather far away, had her attention shifting almost continuously from the judge's table to the surface of the lake to those sitting around her. And a lot of that time was spent halfway inside her own mind as well, just thinking about things.

Vesperra had been wondering _what_ exactly it was that the champions had to retrieve—Bagman had said "taken from them," so she had to assume it was a personal item that was important to each of them and hidden somewhere at the bottom of the lake. How would Dumbledore and the others who were running the tournament have gotten a hold of anything the champions owned, though? Surely they wouldn't have been allowed to just get inside their dorms (or in Delacour's and Krum's case, their carriage and ship) and _take _something—and even then, how would they know what to take? They wouldn't have just taken _anything_, either… unless they'd taken _people_. People who were important to each of the champions. Yes, that must have been it….

With that, she relaxed her stiffened muscles slightly and sighed inwardly, proud of herself for having figured it out with a single, solid train of thought. Not that that was a rare occurrence for her at all, but she just liked the feeling she got when she did it.

Yeah, she probably had a bit of a superiority complex when it came to intelligence, and at the same time a lack of self-esteem. Not a very good mix.

That got her thinking, though…. What if she, for whatever reason, had entered the Triwizard Tournament? The most important person (well, actually, most important _thing in existence_) to her was Severus, so they'd have had to take _him_ down to the lake… but only Dumbledore would have been able to know, and surely he wouldn't have told the other judges in that hypothetical situation? And if he did, then every single person at Hogwarts would have known how much she cared about Severus, and then their entire relationship wouldn't have been a secret….

This was the first time she was truly glad there had been no chance for her to enter the Triwizard Tournament. Although, she supposed that if they couldn't get Severus, they might have been able to get Damien… wait, no, hold on… could they have even known that Damien was her cousin? Had that ever come up in a conversation between Severus and Dumbledore?

And if not him, then who was next in line for the most important person in her life?… Nott? Oh Merlin, that was almost worse. Then everyone would have thought that they were dating. And she hardly even cared about him—he was only a distant third. A _very_ distant third.

She figured that she'd just be an especially hard person to find something to take from in this task. Once again, it got her to wondering more…. What if one of the champions hadn't had anyone they cared about?—or anyone they let people know they cared about? Perhaps having people you openly care about was one of the factors in the Goblet of Fire choosing you…. Well, then. She wouldn't have been picked anyway.

Nearly an hour later, there was _finally_ more word from Bagman: "Oh, it seems like there's a bit of a complication under the lake…."

And then Vesperra realized that Dumbledore was kneeling down at the edge of the lake, apparently talking to something. A minute later, something silvery was bobbing up out of the lake, being dragged by—no, it couldn't have been… merpeople? Huh, she hadn't known that there were merpeople living in the Hogwarts lake….

It was Fleur Delacour, as announced by Bagman. She was soaking wet and still gasping for air as she reached the bank, where she was immediately greeted by Madam Pomfrey and wrapped in a thick blanket. Vesperra only just realized how freezing the lake must have been in this weather… and she cringed slightly, but felt no pity.

Delacour must have failed to retrieve whoever had been taken from her, then… so she had been sent back up early. She'd probably been close to drowning. Vesperra watched the judges talk amongst themselves, knowing that she could have heard what they were saying with a simple spell but deciding to wait until they gave the scores.

She was glad, knowing that the rest of the champions had to be coming up soon and that she would be able to go back inside in not too long….

About ten minutes later, Bagman's amplified voice rang out over the stands again: "The hour is now officially up. I do hope the other champions don't take too long to arrive…."

And, as though Bagman had predicted it, another head broke the surface of the lake a minute later, this time actually carrying someone. More merpeople rose above the surface and followed them as they swam for the shore—and as they drew closer, Vesperra could see that it was Cedric Diggory and the girl he had taken to the Yule Ball—she didn't remember her name.

All the Hufflepuffs (and most of the rest of the school) cheered this time, once again nearly making her fall out of her seat. But at least this meant things were actually getting exciting… sort of.

No longer than five minutes later was Krum—and it was extremely easy to tell because he still had the shark head for a second or so after he was above water again. Next to him was a girl with brown hair that was bushy even though it was wet—_Oh yeah, Granger_. At first, Vesperra had been confused, but then she remembered that some of the Slytherins had talked a lot (angrily, of course) about how Krum had taken Granger to the Yule Ball.

_Potter'll probably be out of the lake any minute, now…._ Vesperra found herself anxious for the task to officially end so she would know who was in the lead and what sort of frustration (or anger) to expect from the other Slytherins later.

Except he wasn't. Five minutes passed, and there was no sign of anyone about to come out of the lake. Ten minutes. Still nothing. Fifteen minutes, twenty….

Though with completely different mental inflections of voice, both Vesperra and Severus were thinking the same thing: Could something have happened down there?—was this the fault of someone working for Voldemort, could Potter have been… dead?

The mere thought stilled Severus's heart for several seconds. He didn't know how it could have happened, since the judges had been alerted when Fleur was in trouble… but it was still possible. And of _course _it would all happen underwater, where Severus couldn't see what was going on or possibly be able to do anything….

_No, he _can't _be dead. He can't possibly have been killed, I haven't even seen anything suspicious going on…._

Severus felt like he was being suffocated, and the strings were so tight that he almost didn't notice the crowd erupt into a great deal of noise seconds later, both cheering and screaming, as something black, ginger, and silvery blonde broke the surface of the lake.

Even though the dread hadn't lasted long, when he saw them, the relief was immense.

* * *

**I'm really glad I finally got the write the scene with Severus, Moody, and Filch (and technically Harry)... It was a little difficult to get inside his mind there and make Severus's actions make sense, but I think I had it.**

**I'm pretty sure Book 4 will only last another four chapters at the most, which means I'm almost finished! :D And then I'll probably finish Book 5 soon after the end of the summer!**

**Anyway, PLEASE review (for the umpteenth time, you guys know how much reviews mean to me) and tell me what you thought and/or what you think is going to happen! :D**


	64. Book 4: Chapter 18

**I'm slightly disappointed that I only got two reviews since I last updated... But at the same time, I'm glad my FrUK one-shot got 11 reviews so quickly. It's a little weird, though, because that's more reviews than any of my other one-shots have gotten after several months. -_-**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! :D**

* * *

"Moral fiber, my _arse_…."

What was almost more aggravating than the fact that Potter had not only gotten second place in the task but was now tied for first in the tournament overall was that, later that day at dinner, complaining about it was all the other Slytherins were doing. They were, really, speaking pretty much all of _her_ thoughts, and Vesperra supposed she was probably a hypocrite because of it… but she really hated when other people complained. She felt it was enough to simply complain to yourself and that going on forever to a group of others was a waste of time…. And the hypocrisy came from the several times she'd spent a while just ranting to Severus about Potter-related things.

Well, they'd actually complained to each other, so she wasn't the only one to blame.

But it all still seemed unfair to the worst degree. Especially considering that this was following another task in which Potter had done the best…. Just the fact that the youngest and most inexperienced of all the champions (not to mention that he wasn't even _supposed_ to be a champion at all) was fairing the best so far, was enough to get Malfoy to nearly choke on his food while ranting (which was rather funny) and Vesperra to unwittingly dent her goblet while gripping it too hard. No one else noticed that, but she couldn't help but wonder whether they would respect her more if they did.

The Durmstrang boys weren't taking it well, either. In fact, they seemed to be taking it much worse. Vesperra could definitely understand that; while the Slytherins were just a House that held a grudge against Potter and were jealous and angry at him for this, Durmstrang was actually a competing school that _had_ a champion. Krum, she figured, as an eighteen year-old who was pretty much the most skilled Quidditch Seeker in the world, was furious at having been beaten twice by a measly fifteen year-old—even if he _was_ the Boy Who Lived. And he proved her assumption by looking sulkier than usual, not speaking to or even looking at anyone at all during dinner.

Oh, and Vesperra's aggravation got worse when Malfoy revealed to have started considering the same thing she had thought about earlier: what (or whom) would have been taken from her if she had been in the tournament. Well, it actually started out with him talking about himself and how they'd probably have taken Pansy (at which Pansy "_awwwed!_" and Vesperra felt like throwing up), and then he broke off on a tangent and started talking about her.

Now that she thought about it, though, she should have assumed that most people would have this on their minds…. She also should have assumed that Malfoy would come to the same conclusion that she had, considering how obsessed with her he often seemed to be.

By dinnertime, it had gotten well around the school (though she was completely at a loss as to _how_) that the exact clue for the Second Task had been that they'd taken what the champions would miss the most. And that had led Vesperra to be sure they'd have _had _to take Severus—which Malfoy was also sure of. And of which he also told her.

"I mean, there's no one else you care about, is there?" he jeered, jabbing his fork in her direction for emphasis (which was stupid of him, though) since there was still food on his fork and some of it fell off). "Unless, of course, they took your snake… but I don't see how that would have worked. Still, I don't think you'd have even been able to lift Professor Snape out of the water… so I guess you'd have just lost and both died, then."

While most of the other Slytherins laughed, Vesperra kept her eyes on her plate (there was such a flame behind her eyes that she was surprised it didn't cook her food further) and couldn't help but seriously consider what Malfoy had said: Severus was six feet tall and, even if he was rather lean, bound to be too heavy for her to pull up to the surface of a lake. But perhaps the judges would have expected her to be able to make him lighter with a spell or something….

_Ugh, no, just stop that. You _weren't_ chosen to the in the tournament, so there's no use wondering what would have happened._

She was still furious at Malfoy, though. And for more reasons than she could have properly explained to herself—which wasn't to say that she didn't understand them. She just couldn't put them into words that described it accurately enough.

Her anger stayed with her all through the rest of dinner, and she was luckily able to contain it even as it got bigger and more painful (both physically and mentally) to hold. However, Vesperra hurried a little while she was eating so that she could get out of the Great Hall and away from the others before she normally would. Of course, she was still angry after she had gotten up and left and headed up to the library.

There was some research she needed to do for a History of Magic essay, and Vesperra was planning on doing that now rather than later—as usual. With most people still at dinner, the library was almost completely empty, which she was quite glad for: She liked the peace and quiet and being surrounded by nothing but the smell of books.

Soon after she had found a table and dropped the books she'd found onto it (which landed with a _thump _and caused a small, brief cloud of dust), she was already writing and completely engrossed in it. It was quite a surprise that she managed to hear the words spoken behind her about five minutes later—

"Vy do they say those sort of things to you?"

Vesperra registered at once that the accent was Slavic and that the voice was deep, so she automatically assumed it was Alec, the one Durmstrang boy who had actually talked to her (or attempted to) several times. Annoyed both that he would come and talk to her while she was in the library and that he was pitying her _again _(and without any sort of preliminary greeting, either—not that she was one to always do that…), she set her quill down with a small huff and began to turn around.

"Are you just going to harass me all year, or—"

But it wasn't Alec; it was _Krum_. At that, her brain short-circuited and the only thought she could form at the moment while she stared at him was _What. _

"I… wait, why are _you _talking to me?" she said a couple seconds later, not caring if she sounded rude. This was entirely unexpected; she had a right to sound rude. "You hardly ever talk to anyone."

Not to mention just plain weird. Even though Vesperra couldn't care less about Viktor Krum's fame, it felt strange to be talking with him. Especially when _he_ was the one who had come to talk to _her_. And she didn't think she'd ever even heard him say more than a couple words to anyone else.

"Vell, I…" Krum frowned, making his face look an awful lot like Severus's for a moment (if only because of the similar nose) "I vanted to. But—vot did you mean, 'harass you'? Who did you think I vos?"

"Oh." Her still somewhat shocked and confused look turned back into annoyance—which was partly directed at herself, since she felt she should have realized it wasn't Alec's voice when she'd first heard it. Vesperra turned her attention halfway back to her book, looking at the page instead of Krum's face but still considering herself involved in the conversation. "One of your friends," she half-huffed, half-sighed. "Alec."

Krum was silent at first, which got Vesperra curious and made her immediately look toward him. He was frowning more deeply now, and he turned his head away slightly before saying, "He is not my friend. Ve may go to the same school, but I think he's annoying."

"Well, so do I," said Vesperra, finding that she respected Krum a little more.

"Hm. But anyvays, I vos asking you—vy do the Slytherins say those things to you? Since I haff come here, I vos under the impression that people in the same House get along. I am vundering vy it is not the case vith you…."

Oh. So it was just scientific curiosity, not really any genuine pity on his part. Not that she cared, or even wanted pity….

"It's mostly just Malfoy, actually," she answered him after a moment, her lip twitching into a potential snarl and her eyebrows knitting together at the thought of him. "And if you haven't noticed, he's pretty much the leader of the fourth year Slytherins—and those in other years respect him anyway because he comes from a pure-blood and wealthy family. He hates me, so everyone else does, too. It's as simple as that."

Turning her head back around to look at her essay, she brought the quill to her paper and started finishing the sentence she'd been in the middle of when Krum had shown up. She hoped that, if she just stopped looking at him or acknowledging his presence, he'd leave. _You have the information you wanted, now go away._

"That's not fair." Dammit. He wasn't leaving. "And they shouldn't insult you for vot you care about…."

Well then… She was wrong. Who knew Krum had a compassionate side? All of this time, Vesperra had been so sure that he was a lot like her, what with his almost permanent scowl and lack of close friends and sulky attitude… but that was apparently just the outside. He seemed rather willing to share his feelings with near strangers as well as be open about whom he was dating. It was sort of annoying.

"No, they shouldn't," agreed Vesperra, though rather snappishly and still without looking at him. "But they do, and they're not going to stop, so that's that. I've gotten over it, and you should, too."

That wasn't true. She had never truly _gotten over_ the fact that she was hated by so many people, and she never would. Oh, she'd gotten used to it, but she'd always hate it. And she realized, a few seconds after she'd said that, that she hadn't denied that what Malfoy had said was true…. At which she mentally smacked herself and hoped that it wouldn't result in anything.

"Hm," grunted Krum. Vesperra could tell by the pause in between that and his next words that he was being quietly taken aback. "Vell, I am thinking I haff bothered you enough…."

_About damn time,_ thought Vesperra as he started walking away, leaving her in peace to do her essay on trolls. She glanced up for a brief second to see him walking toward another table, and Granger walking into the library and toward him. She could just barely hear him greet her with a "Herm-oh-ninny"—at which she had to suppress a laugh because of his pronunciation issues.

Now that she thought about it… _again_, they really weren't all that different on the inside, either…. Krum just had a thinner shell.

* * *

Severus ran a long-fingered hand across the various shelves in his ingredients storeroom until he got to the G's, and then ran it down until he got to the label he was searching for. There was a single, small box in the compartment; and when he checked it, it was empty.

"This proves it," he muttered under his breath, his teeth gritted together and his jaw very stiff. He felt like taking the box and throwing it against the wall, but he felt that he'd thrown and broken too many things lately. Besides—it was thin and wooden, so it wouldn't have made the satisfying _crash_ that glass would have.

Either way, he had to control himself. And it was surprisingly easy to control, but he figured that that was because this was a cold fury. This had been simmering inside of him since earlier that morning, when he had realized that Potter having stolen Gillyweed was the only explanation…. So he'd been fully aware of it. It was extreme, but it was like boiling water until it was so hot that there were no bubbles. Like a poison that worked silently and was only painful at the very end.

Of course, Severus knew that there was no way he could have overlooked this when he had been checking through his ingredients the day after his office had been broken into (he'd called it "emergency inventorying"). But he was purposely overlooking that right now, if only to make sure that there were no holes in his fool-proof theory.

Although, _purposely_ may not have been entirely accurate, since he wasn't doing it consciously—or at least not with the rational part of his mind. All of the tiny details that went against his theory were pushed back—_far_ back—in favor of his anger and hatred towards Potter and his plans for revenge. Severus refused to be aware of the hole in his logic—he _refused_ to let this be ruined, too.

That brat was going to get what he _bloody_ deserved—for stealing, for daring to be the best even without any effort, for everything. And Severus was going to make sure of it.

* * *

Vesperra had regretted not asking Krum anything about Potter and the Second Task (since he was bound to know _something_, dating Potter's friend and all)—until later that evening, that is. For Severus had a lot of things to tell her, and she agreed with his theories immediately.

Which automatically made her loathe Potter even more and wonder how Krum could get along with the idiot's friend. Hell, she didn't understand how it wasn't just plain _awkward_ for him to date the friend of his—in effect—enemy.

She also suddenly liked Moody even less, and she was finding herself unable to even feel the respect for him that she'd felt earlier in the year. Despite her still being treated as sort of a favorite in Defense the Dark Arts classes, she simply couldn't like him—and her liking and respect for Moody had been decreasing since Christmas. At first it had only been a little, since she figured the ex-Auror _did_ have a good reason for not liking Severus (especially with his insanity to add to that), but after about a month ago it had plummeted. It was deep in the chasm now, and Vesperra could honestly say that she hated Mad-Eye Moody nearly as much as Severus did.

Strangely enough, she felt rather glad about finally being able to hate him. Usually, she didn't really need a reason to hate someone—she disliked people on principle. Moody had given her a reason to like him in the beginning, so it had been difficult to find a reason to actually _hate_ or even dislike him afterward. And she had wanted to hate him, if only so she didn't feel like she was betraying Severus in any way. Okay, so it was weird to feel the need to hate someone just because someone else did… but she supposed it was one of the odd things that came with loving someone.

So Vesperra was relieved that she finally had a reason to hate the man, for now she was in the same exact boat as Severus. There was absolutely no barrier there anymore.

It was enough to make her and Severus almost completely forget about Voldemort and all that—and when they did get their minds back to that, they were really at a loss of what to do, since no new information had popped up lately. Not even at the Second Task, which they'd been sure would give them _something_….

Come to think of it, that in itself could have been construed as information of sorts. It was rather suspicious that apparently nothing had happened—which they were assured of the next day, when Severus talked to Dumbledore and found out that the merpeople in the lake had reported nothing life-threatening happening to Potter or anything suspicious in the surrounding waters. And with neither Severus nor Vesperra having seen anything during the task… either the supposed traitor helping Voldemort had failed to do anything or hadn't been trying then.

Or there was no one helping Voldemort at all. Clearly, nothing had been out to kill or even seriously harm Potter that day…. Even if someone had expected him to not be able to stay underwater at all, there's no way they could have expected to harm him while he was above water, in front of everybody else.

So now, they were leaning even more heavily on the Ludo Bagman theory; they would have found it rather difficult to believe that anything else could be going on if not for the fact that Voldemort was making a steady return. After all, the man had looked _extremely_ glad when Potter had been awarded his points after the task….

Meanwhile, the boy in question seemed to have become even more popular in Hogwarts. For the entire week after the Second Task, Vesperra hardly ever saw any of the champions (or the people who the champions had had to retrieve) not surrounded by people who were questioning them about it. The only ones not participating at all in the excitement (_idiocy_, Vesperra called it) were the Slytherins, many of whom still had their _POTTER STINKS_ badges. And most of them kept it on that phrase instead of the one concerning Diggory, since most of the Hufflepuffs, including Diggory himself, seemed to have gotten rid of their grudge against Potter.

The one word that Vesperra would have used to describe life now was simply "annoying." All of Hogwarts making a huge deal of something she was apathetic about was annoying. Malfoy's and the others' repeated insults (towards both her and Potter) and complaints were annoying. And all the homework they had to add onto that was time-consuming and therefore something to keep her busy, but nevertheless annoying. It was just as annoying that none of this was quite bad enough to be called _aggravating_, too—it was too iffy, too much in the gray area. Vesperra was almost hoping for something to happen that would make her extremely angry, if only to push things to the extreme and keep her from being emotionally routine and bored. Well… something extremely light-heartening would have been nice, too.

On the morning of the Friday after the task, Pansy started giggling fiercely soon after the owl post had come, which led Vesperra to believe that there was some new article in the _Daily Prophet_ or something and causing her lip to twitch in horrible anticipation of even more annoyance. She didn't dare glance up from her plate.

"Oooh… Yes!" squealed Pansy, sounding happy enough to make Vesperra slightly scared—nothing that could make Pansy Parkinson _that _happy could be good. "Read it, Draco!" And she giggled again.

She heard the noise of paper being ruffled as Pansy must have shoved the newspaper into Malfoy's hands.

"Ooh, is this the one you did?" drawled Malfoy, a laugh in his voice. "Oh my God—" He cut himself off as he apparently went on with reading the article, and a minute or so later, he was sniggering. And then there was the sound of paper being wrinkled as it was passed over again.

This got Vesperra curious, since she'd have figured that Malfoy or Pansy would have read it out loud. But they were passing it around instead, so that must have meant it was something they didn't want to have overheard (or at least not just yet), or something they didn't want someone in particular to see…. In the case of the latter, it was likely her.

And so she ignored the subsequent giggles every time someone else read it, pretending that she was oblivious to what was going on as she ate her breakfast. That, however, was only until something attached to a hand was shoved in front of her face.

"Go on, read it—even _you'll _find this hilarious, Grease-perra," came the voice of Daphne, shoving it forward a bit more. At that, she had a flashback to something similar happening in her first year—except that had been with Malfoy and the letter from Weasley's brother about a dragon. She tilted her head up a bit to find everyone either smirking wickedly or sniggering into their hands, many of whom were staring at her as well. Merlin, she hated that…. She hated having everyone staring at her. It was discomforting.

But she forgot about that when she realized that Daphne was holding a magazine, not a newspaper. Vesperra narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow at a grinning Malfoy before taking the magazine and bringing it closer to her face so she could read it. The first things, obviously, she noticed were the picture of Potter and the title, which caused an eye-twitch and made her rather wary about reading the rest of it, but she soldiered on.

_**Harry Potter's Secret Heartache**_

_A boy like no other, perhaps—yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, _writes Rita Skeeter_. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

_Miss Granger, a plain but ambiguous girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last Quidditch World Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."_

_Oh crap._ So that was why the Slytherins were passing this around instead of reading it out loud—they didn't want Krum to hear…. To be honest, she felt a stab of pity for the guy—not because of relationship drama, since all that about Granger dating Potter obviously wasn't true, but because he was going to be on the spotlight now, with people asking him questions and whatnot. Also because Vesperra knew _he_ had definitely not told Rita Skeeter about all of that, and that he would be immensely angry when he found out about the article—which he indefinitely would, eventually.

For a brief moment, she took a side-glance over at the Durmstrang boys sitting to her left and found Krum's face, sullen but relatively calm and oblivious—for now. And then she went back to reading.

_ However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest._

_ "She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."_

_ Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate._

And that was it. For a few seconds, all Vesperra could do was narrow her eyes at the paper and try to decide on how to respond. The others were, after all, waiting on her reaction—so doing one thing rather than another could get her ridiculed, or get them to respect her enough not to bully her for the rest of the morning. Now, did she force out a smirk and one-breath laugh to make them happy, or tell the truth and keep her dignity?

Well, she'd gone through enough at this point that it wouldn't really make a difference, so she went with keeping her dignity.

"That's bullshit and you all know it," said Vesperra, closing the magazine (which revealed the cover and that it was called _Witch Weekly_) and tossing it back over to Daphne. As casually as she could, she returned to eating and refrained from looking at anyone else.

Really, it wasn't as though she kept up with all the rumors and gossip and relationships around Hogwarts, but Vesperra was sure that she'd _know_ if Potter and Granger were actually dating—especially if they'd been dating a long time. She would have heard someone talking about it… and, well, she would just know. Sure, she wasn't the best at reading those sort of feelings (or else she would have figured Nott out a lot sooner and without him having to tell her), but this was an instinctual thing. Besides—since Rita Skeeter and the other Slytherins were in on this, the chances that it was actually true were close to none.

And while she was glad that this was going to have an effect on Potter and Granger, she felt that Krum didn't deserve it and that it was all really unnecessary.

Surprisingly, instead of lashing back with something nasty or something alluding to the possibility of her liking Potter, Pansy said, "Not as far as anyone else knows," and let out a short shriek of laughter.

A lot of them were scowling at her, though—but they didn't continue with a conversation about it or even insult her other than vaguely. _Oh—that's right, they can't say anything in detail about it, or else Krum'll hear. Ha._

Vesperra had a lucky break until breakfast ended and it was time to head to Herbology, at which the other Slytherins began the snide comments—

"I thought you hated Potter, huh? And since when are you into all the 'good and respectful morals' crap…?"

"Unless it's Krum that she likes—which I can see, since they're both pretty depressing and antisocial…."

"But they're too famous for her taste. But… what if she likes Granger? Ha, I didn't know you swung that way, Grease-perra…."

That last one gave her the urge to hurl one of the worst curses she knew at Tracey, if only for what the derisive comment had been about. Having Damien for a cousin, she took personal offence from anything like that. Not that she had come across many people openly ridiculing or mocking homosexuality… so this was actually a first. But still.

She tried not to clench her fist or teeth at that, though, since she didn't want anyone to notice and then assume something and start a long series of insults about it. Mostly because she knew there'd be a point where she accidentally cursed or punched someone.

When they got bored of that or merely weren't able to say anything to Vesperra, the other Slytherins were still sniggering over the article and talking about how Potter and Granger were going to react. She didn't think any of them were thinking too much about how angry Krum was going to be, though, since the result of that was _not _going to be good; with the Durmstrang boys sitting so nearby, Krum was bound to express some of that anger to Pansy. Shit was bound to go down.

As pretty much all of the Slytherins had been anticipating throughout the day, it was finally time for a Double Potions lesson with the Gryffindors when the last lesson of the afternoon came around. And for Vesperra, it felt odd not to be the only one looking forward to it.

* * *

Knowing that Potter was going to be in his last lesson of the day had Severus unsure whether to be sadistically glad or in a wholly sour mood. On one hand, the bane of his existence (well, the _son_ of the bane of his existence, but he had inherited the title) was going to be in his class and be the idiot he usually was. On the other, he had the chance to do what he'd been waiting for since the Second Task.

And on both hands, Vesperra was there, so it automatically made both choices turn to at least somewhat genuinely happy.

Either way, Severus was the Potions Master and therefore had to open the door to let his students in one way or another, so he didn't hesitate to do so when he was finished putting the last of the other class's potions and such away—there had been countless times before that the last thing he wanted to do was teach a lesson, so he was rather used to it. Well, he'd been used to not getting what he wanted for a very long time.

When he had pulled the door on its full arc (another thing he'd gotten used to—to the point where there was no strain on his arm muscles), he briefly scanned his eyes over the students congregated in front of the door—none of them missing, luckily—and beckoned them in. They had all looked to him so suddenly, though, that he was sure they must have been in the middle of a scene. Probably nothing important enough even for Vesperra to want to mention later, though.

As they all walked past him to get to their seats, Severus's eyes caught a single glimpse of Potter and he felt a chilled wave of loathing sweep over him before he was fully turned around and facing the board on which he would write the ingredients for that day's potion.

Since Vesperra knew that her friend was planning some sort of revenge (and not just the usual vamped-up cruelty), she felt as though her emotions were practically in sync with Severus's: She was aware of his anger just at Potter's presence—though that might have been because she had grown to be so good at discerning his feelings that she was able to tell just by the angle of his shoulders to his neck.

Just before Severus had opened the door, Pansy had thrown the magazine at Granger. She obviously hadn't had a chance to read it, so nothing had happened yet… but something was likely to once Potter and his friends sat down.

The whole class was soon getting started on their Wit-Sharpening Potions, Vesperra having gotten further than most because of her seat up front (which had allowed her more time to get her cauldron and brass scales ready) and her skill in properly preparing ingredients. Her scarab beetles were crushed into a fine powder within ten minutes, likely thanks to her wrist's endurance—which was also the cause of her ability to write continuously for a while without getting hand cramps.

Soon afterwards, she was starting on her ginger roots, but a flash of swishing black caught her eye and she snapped far enough out of her mind-cave to realize that Severus was stepping away from his desk to start checking on the beginning of the students' progress: He normally went up and down the aisles in an order so that she'd end up being near the last, but she suddenly realized a message she should get across to him before it was too late. There was no way she was going to raise her hand and say "Professor Snape!"—but she thought of something better almost instantly.

Purposely making it seem nonchalant (but still loud enough to be heard from a few feet away), Vesperra started tapping her fingers against her table in the rhythm of her and Severus's secret knock. They had never agreed on any sort of signal outside of her knocking at his office door, but she was sure that he'd understand.

And he did. At first, he didn't register the tapped-out rhythm of the old Beatles song, but then it stuck out sharply and he nearly gasped. His eyes immediately flicked to Vesperra's table directly to his right, and he saw that, while she was keeping her eyes on her ginger roots, she was seemingly unconsciously tapping on the table. Of course, it might truly have been an unconscious action, but he had never known her to tap her fingers before… so he assumed she actually needed something. And that it was important.

Subtly changing course so that his going the other way wouldn't seem weird, Severus walked over to Vesperra's desk and stopped right in front. Making sure to look as though he was looking into her cauldron, he bent down just enough to be able to hear her at a volume at which no one else would be able to.

He didn't need to say "You called?" or "Yes?" or any other variant of such, for Vesperra spoke before he even had the chance to raise his eyebrows expectantly.

"I think you'll like what you find at Potter's table, Sir."

There was really no need to call him "Sir" when she was speaking so quietly that there was no chance of anyone else hearing, but she had thrown it in for irony's sake—and it worked well with the smirk she gave him.

At that, he raised one eyebrow and then glanced at the back table where the infamous trio was. Obviously he was planning on going back there and doing something eventually, but this must have been something else… did it have anything to do with whatever had happened in the corridor right before the lesson had started?

Vesperra didn't know if Potter, Granger, and Weasley were still reading or talking about the article, but there was a good chance that they were. So she felt she had done something significant (but then she thought that was kind of sad, since that was the only thing she'd done lately that could have been considered _significant_—it didn't even have anything to do with Voldemort!). Well, at least she was helping her friend. Sort of.

Lowering his eyelids and offering her a smirk as thanks, Severus stood up straight and began stalking casually (which, yes, was actually possible for him) down the aisle toward the back, glancing down into cauldrons as he passed. For once, he didn't take the chance to stop at Longbottom's cauldron and make the pathetic kid cry (although he actually looked like he was about to, simply at Severus's brief presence), but instead went around to the very back of the room so that his intended targets wouldn't see him coming.

"—did you say?" Weasley was saying, sounding urgent as he pounded his pestle not into the scarab beetles, but onto his desk. Clearly the boy was too distracted….

"Well," said Granger, "I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to—"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," said Severus icily, having waited a couple seconds before deciding to alert them to his presence (which was satisfying, since they all jumped in surprise), "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Both Severus and Vesperra found it rather funny that he was taking points based on what he wouldn't even have heard without being all the way in the back of the room—where he wouldn't have been at this moment if not for his friend. And at this point, the whole class was looking around at them (some had already been looking, as they'd followed his somewhat suspicious path straight to the back of the room), awaiting the inevitable drama. To some, it would be entertainment; and to others, it would be their daily dose of secondhand embarrassment. Even Vesperra had taken her focus off of the ingredients she was preparing in order to watch.

Severus paused a moment to breathe in the beautiful silence in the dungeon. The beautiful, cold, revenge-prefacing silence. He glared over his hooked nose down at the three brats, and his eyes glinted when they passed over something on the empty chair beside Granger: _This must be what Vesperra told me about._

"Ah… reading magazines under the table as well?" said Severus, snatching it up off of the chair. "A further ten points from Gryffindor…." He heard sniggers in the background as his eyes scanned down the page that the magazine had been opened to—and then he caught sight of what was going to give him a huge chunk of his revenge today, at which his eyes glittered malevolently. "Oh but of course… Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings…."

Rather than holding it back for respect's sake, the Slytherins all (but Vesperra) laughed openly and loudly, letting it echo off the dungeon walls. Severus found himself not annoyed at all, but actually rather satisfied with all this. _Finally_, things were going to go his way—and he was actually letting himself get his hopes up, because he honestly didn't see a way this could be ruined.

Almost feeling childish, though, he couldn't help but glance in Vesperra's direction to meet her gaze very briefly, as though for support. Well, he didn't really need it, but… it honestly did boost his pride. And that small boost of pride made a rather large difference.

Severus looked back down to the article, and a horrible smirk twitched on his lips as he began reading it out loud, almost _giddy_ with the excitement of what this was going to do to Potter.

"'_Harry Potter's Secret Heartache_'… dear, dear, Potter, what's ailing you now?" He only allowed himself to glance at the boy once before continuing, the smirk on his face spreading a bit wider and becoming nastier as he went on. Severus read each sentence in his usual silky, condescending voice, pausing at the end of each sentence and giving commentary on a couple more of them:

"'_Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss_'… Of course, that's the last thing you need, isn't it, Potter?"

"'_…but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy_'—punishment will ensue if that is true…."

Once he finished reading it, he rolled up the magazine and sneered, "How very touching. Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter—that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

At once, Vesperra froze, and her eyes widened as her face paled. She had automatically thought that he meant _her_ table (and the _last_ thing she wanted was for Potter to sit with her)—but then she realized that there was another table on the right side of the classroom, which was never occupied. She breathed an inward sigh of relief, but she knew she shouldn't have thought that Severus would do something like that to her in the first place.

The shock, however, had been enough for her to be completely unaware for a moment of the gales of laughter still coming from the other Slytherins. She was laughing on the inside, though—but since she really didn't have to struggle all that much to keep it in, unlike the time that Malfoy had been turned into a ferret, she figured that Potter really _was_ quite far down on her list of people she loathed—after Malfoy. Huh.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were all very red in the face—and Severus almost thought that they were going to remain indignant for a couple seconds or argue, but the two he had ordered to move actually did so at once. So far as satisfied as Potter was furious (which was obvious in the way the boy just _threw_ his ingredients and bag into his cauldron and stomped up to the empty table), he followed him up to the front of the room.

As he sat down at his desk, Severus honestly felt like leaning back dramatically, gripping the arms of his chair, and laughing a deeper, heartier laugh than he had laughed in a very long time. There was simply _no way_ this could be ruined now—even if someone suddenly decided to come and take Potter away from the dungeons again, he had already humiliated him. That couldn't be reversed.

Not that that was all he intended to do. If he had anything to say about it—which he did, there would be much more to come.

It was too bad he had a reputation to keep up and therefore couldn't go on with his desire to laugh maniacally, but at least he could watch Potter maliciously as he unloaded his cauldron. For the next few minutes, it seemed that the boy was determined not to look at him, since his eyes didn't travel upwards from the scarab beetles he was crushing (with an inefficient technique, anyway). Severus was going to change that, though, once the rest of the class was completely calmed down….

And when they did, he didn't even need to leave his chair, since Potter's current table was so close to his desk. This was the only time he would ever be glad that this particular desk wasn't Vesperra's (although, if she had chosen that one, it would have suggested a relationship between them even further…).

"All this press attention seemed to have inflated your already overlarge head, Potter," he said quietly enough that no one else would hear, practically _tasting_ the malice on his own voice. It tasted good. Potter, however, said nothing even after several seconds, so he went on, "You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire Wizarding world is impressed with you, but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."

Having gotten all that out, Severus admittedly felt a little better—despite his anger actually having risen with each word. But it was in a satisfying sort of way, since he was glad to finally have the chance to make it _clear_ to the little brat that there were still some people in the world who treated him the way he actually deserved rather than with senseless worship or praise. That damn kid needed to realize what his father never had—that being good at _one_ thing didn't put you above the rest; and no matter what, he was just a normal—bloody—person!

And yet, Potter still didn't respond; all he did was dump his powdered beetles into his cauldron and started cutting up ginger roots. Honestly, Severus hadn't expected him to—he was just enjoying seeing the boy angry enough to be shaking. But he still continued, and this time in a softer, more dangerous voice as he leaned forward over his desk,

"So I give you fair warning, Potter, pint-sized celebrity or not—if I catch you breaking into my office one more time—"

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" said Potter suddenly and angrily, looking up from his cauldron. The way his hair—looking so much like his father's—went even more out of place with the backward whip of his head, and his eyes—exactly like his mother's—glinted with pure _loathing_ at him was enough to instantly spark more loathing in Severus to amount to all of that.

And the main part of that was Potter's eyes. Severus just… couldn't… _stand_ to see Lily's eyes looking at him with such hatred. It reminded him of the moment at which their friendship had been torn apart forever—hell, it looked _worse_ than that, because Lily had actually looked more sad than angry that night. And now… it was just impossible to look at that and retain all of his sanity. Something had cracked with that glint of loathing—a string came undone, a bow snapped, something like that… so that all he could think, however irrational it was, was _How _dare _he use those eyes to look at me like that?_

"Don't lie to me," hissed Severus at once, ironically unable to keep his black eyes from boring into Lily's—no, Potter's. His breath had hitched and forced itself to come out lower at the sudden pang in his chest from all that anger. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both came from my private stores, and I know who stole them."

Staring back at him, Potter said nothing for what felt like the longest time. Severus was too furious and too far gone (thanks to one of the frequently occurring returns of mentally cracked-ness that was happening now) to think of using Legilimency, though it would have been ideal in this situation.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Potter coldly. And that obvious lie made it twice as worse—

"You were out of my bed on the night my office was broken into!" Severus hissed, this time his breath coming out even lower and almost painfully. "I know it, Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!"

Really, he was being a whole lot nicer than he could have been. First—saying that he "wouldn't tolerate his behavior" rather than "_I've enough of your shit, you life-ruining bastard!_" And second—allowing Potter a second chance rather than punishing him directly as he truly deserved. Well, the humiliation that Severus had just delivered (thanks to Vesperra) had technically been punishment, but he wasn't going to give him actual detention. Both because the boy had likely been influenced by a teacher to do what he'd done and because scaring the bloody hell out of him was what he really wanted. A detention wasn't going to be enough to get Potter to at least _pretend_ to respect him.

But it seemed that they were _very_ far from that, for Potter next said, "Right. I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."

How—_dare_—he! How was it even _possible_ that someone could have the audacity to speak to him like that? Oh, right, because this was the son of James Potter. Only someone of that lineage would have this mix of utter stupidity and inherent hatred for Severus Snape.

No amount of excuses would matter to him, though. His blood boiling to an explosive rate and his eyes flashing like a knife thrown across a room (which he was definitely imagining at the moment), he immediately plunged a hand into his robes and wrapped his fingers around a small, cold bottle. At the same time, he was working hard to make sure that his face didn't reveal how furious he was, since he wanted to keep this between him and Potter—he didn't want others in the class to get a hint of what he was doing.

When he pulled out the bottle, Severus kept his expression calm but his eyes cold and cruel and at the same time raging on the inside. The boy in front of him stared at it, a bit of confusion evident in those startlingly (and painfully) green eyes.

"Do you know what this is, Potter?" said Severus, feeling that he'd calmed down just slightly. Just enough to speak smoothly, to feel his heart rate drop to a dangerously slow beat instead of speed up in what should have been high blood pressure.

"No," he answered. For once, he clearly wasn't lying.

"It's Veritaserum—a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," Severus explained viciously, his sadistic satisfaction returning as he once again gained the upper hand (emotionally, anyway, since he already had authority and nothing was stopping him right now). "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips"—he shook the bottle slightly, thus gaining the desired effect of the dawning horror in Potter's eyes—"right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter… then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not."

Some of his anger had turned to panic with each word of insolence uttered by Potter—even though being spoken to so rudely really couldn't have had any effect on his plans, he hadn't been able to help the fear that it would. Aside from everything else, hearing that sort of thing from Potter just incensed him to the point where he was sure he would burst. But that panic was gone now, since the boy neither spoke nor looked at him any more.

Over at her desk, Vesperra looked up from her cauldron, at which she watched her friend's face visibly relax as he leaned back slightly, appearing to be finished with whatever he'd been saying to Potter. She figured that she must have been the only one who noticed he'd been saying anything—both because she was the second closest to his desk and because she'd known to wait and watch for it.

But she could tell that Severus had been extremely angry seconds before, if only by the very subtle facial expressions and the fury simply radiating off of him, and she knew it was Potter's fault. Vesperra was anxious to know exactly what was being said, though, so she was desperate for the lesson to be over so he could tell her…. Huh. She didn't think she'd ever actually _wanted_ a Potions lesson to be over before.

Less than a minute later, however, something happened that would potentially prevent her from being able to do precisely what she wanted to—

There was a knock at the door, which most of the people in the dungeon must have been at least somewhat surprised to hear. The first thought that entered both Vesperra's and Severus's minds was that it might have been someone coming down to get Potter for some Triwizard Tournament-press-thing (at which Severus was relieved that it had happened after his little speech to Potter was over, but still rather angry that it had to happen at all—like fate was playing with him).

Though his heart had skipped a beat in its shock and his muscles had tensed up, Severus kept his usual face and usual scowl as he said, "Enter."

The entire class had gone silent, and they were now looking around to see the door opening and Karkaroff walking in.

_Bloody—shit—no—why is _he_ here?_ thought Severus when he caught a sight of the man through his peripheral vision (and Vesperra was thinking something similar, but with ironically more mental expletives in place). He was panicking on the inside again—and he almost would have preferred that someone come in to get Potter.

Vesperra automatically assumed this was ex-Death Eater business (because what _else _could it have been?), and her heart was suddenly thudding fast in her chest. Her fingers then unwittingly tightened around the knife she had been using to slice up Nicotania leaves (commonly known to Muggles as nicotine, which was actually poison on its own but had brain-stimulating properties when diluted with counter-reacting ingredients). Without knowing precisely what Karkaroff wanted (though she had a good guess), she already just wished that he would leave and wanted to throw the silver knife at his neck.

"We need to talk," said Karkaroff quietly, having quickly approached Severus's desk, and still twisting a finger around his goatee. Clearly, he was agitated (probably from having twenty students stare at him) and nervous—although, surprisingly, he was serious enough for his voice to not be pushed back into his native Russian accent.

At that, Severus didn't know whether he should be annoyed that Karkaroff was trying to talk to him again (and this time, he had done it in a way that made sure he couldn't escape by stealth) or that the man was so awful at stealth himself. By the way he'd hardly opened his mouth, it was clear he didn't want anyone else to hear—but he was awful at keeping his voice down (he didn't even attempt to bend over that much), and Severus was sure Potter had been able to hear. And knowing that brat, he would definitely try to eavesdrop on anything relating to his least favorite teacher….

Not that it wasn't obvious to nearly everyone what Karkaroff wanted just by the simple fact that he was _in _the dungeon classroom and had gone straight to Severus's desk. Once again, it suited the bloody coward, but he didn't realize (or didn't care) how deep in shit it could get other people….

A vein flickering in his temple, Severus glanced to Potter, who was apparently focusing hard on his ginger roots (though definitely not _only _those), then to Karkaroff, and then down to his desk—but he still viewed the man through a side-glare.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," he muttered, half-lying. The half was because he hoped he would be able to find a way to get out of it, but he couldn't be sure that he would. Before he could say anything else, though—

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

Well, duh. And dammit, how many times would Karkaroff need to talk to him? What _new_ things was he going to say?—what was he ever going to say that he would honestly expect a proper response to?

"After the lesson," snapped Severus, now angrier—but not angrier than he had been at Potter, at least. This wasn't only aggravating, though… it was just plain annoying.

With one last look at Karkaroff's worried face, he decided that he didn't want to sit in his desk near that man any longer (mostly because he hated him, but also because it felt a little awkward and because he smelt a bit like fish), so he promptly stood up and left his chair in favor of walking up and down the tables to observe the students' work.

Vesperra stopped glancing up when Severus stood up and left Karkaroff to hover behind his desk. She hadn't been able to hear anything, but she could easily realize from the fact that the Durmstrang Headmaster was still there that he meant to speak with her friend. And she could have easily kept her head up and glared daggers at the man for the rest of the double period, but—

_Okay, no more watching. You've wasted enough time watching Severus and Potter anyway, dammit…._ She cursed herself for having spared some of the attention she should have been giving her potion (not that it made much of a difference, since she was already ahead and nothing had been changed in terms of quality by her waiting a couple minutes) and went on with slicing the leaves.

Although, she did occasionally glance upward again to see Karkaroff still standing there—which was getting steadily creepier. And when Severus made it around to her table, she offered him a sorry look for having to deal with Potter and Karkaroff today, at which he replied with a _You don't have to be sorry for me _sort of grimace.

From what Severus had seen while taking his time to stalk around the classroom, many of the other students were confused as to why Karkaroff was in there: He figured that most of them had no idea that the two men knew each other more than professionally (except perhaps Malfoy, who would know about most of the ex-Death Eaters because of his father).

And he made sure, for much of the time, that he didn't make any eye-contact with the man who was still waiting behind his desk. He also attempted to form an escape plan in his head while he was prowling around—but he really couldn't see any way out of it so far. It wasn't as though he could just dart into his office just as the bell signaled the end of class or leave with the rest of the students… or Disapparate.

So he'd have to deal with it like an adult. He then sighed inwardly.

When it finally came time for the class to clean up and put a sample of their potion into a flask for Severus to grade, he threw Vesperra a discreet, apologetic look, and begrudgingly returned to his desk. And he was still avoiding having to look at Karkaroff.

Vesperra couldn't help but be a bit upset that she wouldn't be able to talk to her friend until later that evening (especially since it had been forever since that had happened), but she accepted that this was important and most certainly not Severus's fault. Well, she might have been more okay with it if it were actually _necessary_ for Karkaroff to speak to him about something that Severus had been avoiding concerning that man for a couple months…. It wasn't likely that there was actually some new development that could be considered important.

Huffing inwardly, she moved toward the door with the rest of the class (which was the first time in a long time) and resisted the urge to glare at Karkaroff. Though she easily could have been the first one out the door after dropping her flask off at Severus's desk—because of the location of her table, she still purposely kept to the back. Vesperra always kept to the back of groups, anyway.

Right before she was out the door, she looked back at Severus's scowl just one more time—but she wasn't aware that Potter was still in there until the dim light of the dungeon classroom was cut off by the loud _click_ of the heavy door.

* * *

"What's so urgent?" Severus hissed, turning around to face Karkaroff once the classroom seemed mostly empty. He hated that he had to be trapped like this, unable to slip away—and it was written all over the scowl he was wearing especially for the man in front of him.

"_This,_" said Karkaroff at once, sounding extremely relieved to finally be able to speak. In a matter of a couple seconds, he had extended his left arm so that his forearm was facing upwards and pulled up the sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark. He didn't give Severus time to react to such a stupid action before going on, "Well? Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since—"

"Put it away!" snarled Severus, immediately whipping his head around to sweep his eyes across the room.

Rationality had only just crashed into him, making him realize that he should have expected this from the beginning and waited until he was absolutely sure the classroom was empty before allowing Karkaroff to speak. Severus had just been so full to the brim with colliding emotions about Potter and how angry the boy had made him and how glad he felt about finally having been able to do something about him and the frustration that Karkaroff of all people had had to show up…. There hadn't been any room for giving thought to something like that.

Or for realizing that the table closest to his own desk was still occupied, apparently.

"But you must have noticed—"

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" he spat, wanting nothing less than for that bloody idiot to continue talking, and feeling a great flame rise up in him again. "Potter! What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up my armadillo bile, Professor," said Potter quickly and in a voice that suggested he was trying to appear innocent—which Severus could see right through in an instant. The boy held up the sodden rag he was holding, but it was still obvious. There was absolutely no way that it was only a coincidence that Potter had an excuse to stay afterward and hear what was potentially something no student should have heard. Severus hoped to _God_ that he hadn't seen anything….

But he didn't have time to respond with something nasty (and possibly involving some expletives, considering his lack of rational thought up until now—which was likely to deteriorate again), because Severus was suddenly distracted by the noise of Karkaroff leaving; and Potter had thrown his books and ingredients into his bag and started to leave within two seconds. It seemed as though a split second had passed to suddenly leave Severus alone in his classroom, accompanied by nothing but the potions he still had to put away and the mixed feelings of anger and relief.

For a moment, he remained standing still, just breathing and looking at nothing in particular (his vision was also fading to become as defocused as it could get), and he tried to sort out the chaos in his mind.

Potter—_revenge, check_. There was no doubt that the boy had heard everything Karkaroff had said, but that on its own was nothing. Except for the fact that it would indefinitely make him suspicious, especially with the possibility that he might have seen Karkaroff pull his sleeve down. Still, though… Severus didn't think Potter would know what it was. So there wasn't _all_ that much to panic about… was there?

Either way, he was still angry. About the both of them. The idiot, Karkaroff, had practically jeopardized everything Severus had been working towards for a long time simply by _showing up_. And the… _other_ idiot, Potter, had just been his usual self. Which was more than enough.

Luckily, though, he didn't have to talk to the damn coward now. Severus wasn't going to let himself be cornered again—which was virtually impossible but for the situation he had just been in. Anything that Karkaroff attempted would be easily escaped at dinner as always, and if he came down to his office later… well, he could just slam the door in his face. Or not open the door at all.

The thing that was frightening Karkaroff so greatly, though, was frightening Severus a bit as well. His Dark Mark had stung for the—oh, he had stopped counting at this point (though he wouldn't have been surprised if Vesperra still was)—_something_'th time and gotten darker. At this rate, it really wouldn't be that long until the inevitable happened….

And, he supposed, he couldn't blame Karkaroff for not ceasing in his attempts for a serious conversation, since he had Obliviated the man a couple months before…. So he wasn't going to remember that he'd already expressed all of his concerns pretty clearly. Then again, he might not have given up even if he remembered all of that evening….

After forcing himself to get on and magically put those yet-to-be-graded potions away, Severus paused and lifted up his left sleeve to look down at his own Dark Mark. At the sight of the black tattoo that he remembered being cut into his skin sixteen years ago, he hated himself and everything around him. And he nearly felt like throwing up.

_Okay, enough of that,_ he thought sternly as he harshly jerked his sleeve down as though someone else had pulled it up. _I already know what it means; I don't need to analyze it any further, I don't need to torture myself like this…._

With that, he left for dinner and told himself that he wasn't slowly going mad.

* * *

**Oh God, I really need to get this finished up... I don't want to try to cram everything into a couple chapters, but I don't want Book 4 to go on too long. Especially because I want to finish it and then go on another hiatus until my school-year is over so I won't have conflicting priorities that will stress me out.**

**But anyway, PLEASE review! Tell me thoughts, theories, etc... Maybe get me up to 220? Pretty please?**


	65. Book 4: Chapter 19

**_WOOT_, 222 reviews! Thanks, guys. Anyway, not much else to say up here, so just enjoy the chapter! :D**

* * *

As what was likely the last Hogsmeade trip of the year (and therefore the one that should have been made the most of), it was ironically uneventful. In Vesperra's definition, at least. Damien didn't visit that time (she imagined that he might have liked to, but there would only be so many days he could just take off from work at his shop before his father got too annoyed), and she didn't catch sight of anything suspicious that she'd have wanted to keep an eye on.

However, as usual, Vesperra (completely coincidentally) met up with Theodore Nott, who insisted on spending most of the trip with her. There had been nothing to distract her or draw her away then, so she figured she had nothing better to do than to hang out with him. Honestly, though, his presence was starting to get annoying after a while…. Yeah, Nott was okay for short conversations during classes, but she didn't like him enough not to get annoyed after spending more than an hour with him. _That_ level of liking was reserved for Severus, and she would never hold that sort of affection for anyone else.

But Nott must have been eager for _any_ sort of affection from her—so much that he would settle for a couple lip-twitches that were potential smirks and non-committal derisive comments. Vesperra supposed it must have been nice for him to be one of the few people with whom she didn't _always_ use a harsh tone. Which was similar to the way she felt with Severus—except he _never_ used any negative tone with her. Well, almost never.

For most of the Hogsmeade visit, she'd actually been anxious to get back to the castle and talk with Severus—so much that she really wasn't sure why she had decided to go to the town anyway. Possibly because it was her last chance to go, and her mild obsessive-compulsiveness made her feel obligated to…. But she was annoyed with whatever it had been, because talking with Severus was more important: He had told her about Karkaroff and Potter the evening before, and she wanted to extend that conversation.

Although, she did make sure to use some of her remaining money to purchase a box of the firewhiskey-filled Chocolate Cauldrons that they both liked…. They were calming, alright?—it wasn't at all childish to be buying sweets for her friend…. They had sort of the effect of normal alcoholic beverages, which is what the both of them needed in a time like this, but weren't harmful.

Meanwhile, Nott had decided to buy her a new quill, to which she had narrowed her eyes at him in wariness and annoyance, but she also supposed that she was a tiny bit grateful because she would have had to get a new one soon enough, anyway. So she accepted it with grumbled "Thanks" and hope that he wouldn't think this meant anything.

_Damn, this relationship thing is getting stressful…, _Vesperra had thought bitterly on her way back to Hogwarts when it was (finally) around the time to leave. She was honestly trying rather hard to make sure she and Nott kept a normal, slightly-less-than-friendship relationship, but as of late, he was acting less and less like it was _only_ that. Did he not get it, or was he just trying to be crafty to get her to warm up to him? And really, Vesperra wasn't entirely sure how to continue going about this: She had never dealt with anything similar to this before Nott. All of her feelings were directed towards someone else, anyway…. God, it was like a tragic circle. If she was right in thinking that Severus didn't return her exact feelings, that is (and it would have been a little weird if he did, really).

_Alright, enough of that._ Vesperra had ended her thought process there and sped up her pace the rest of the way down the path that led through the iron gates and up to the front steps of the castle.

* * *

"You don't need to keep buying those, you know…. I am a teacher, in case you've forgotten, and I have my own money—so you should save yours…."

Severus's stiffness had given away his hesitation before his voice had, making Vesperra sigh inwardly in slight exasperation and want to roll her eyes. She let him finish to the point where he was trailing off, though, because she was busy making herself comfortable on the couch.

"Actually," she started, "sometimes it _is_ hard to remember that you're a teacher…. Your classes aren't all that often, and I'm not so much smaller than you now. But that's not the point—it's a pride thing, isn't it? You've never complained about the Chocolate Cauldrons before…. So I'm guessing you feel like your masculinity's at stake. You think _you _should be the one to buy things for _me_."

She had said it so seriously that Severus was a little surprised—but after another second he wasn't surprised at all, for he realized that it was fairly easy for his friend to read him if he wasn't trying hard to hide it. And she was strangely capable in analyzing relatively deep, psychological things for a person who didn't like to have or admit emotions herself.

"…Well," he said after several seconds' pause, "_that_, and I'm much older than you." The masculinity thing was rather awkward to admit, however accurate it might have been. So his brow furrowed slightly and his lips pursed into almost a pout. "It's a bit weird for a grown man to have a friend—who happens to be a student—buy things for him, you know…."

At that, Vesperra almost laughed. "And it would be even weirder for _you_ to go inside Honeydukes to buy sweets…. I imagine you'd get a lot of funny looks, and plenty of people would think of you differently. Besides, I bought this for both of us. And—I think we've spent too much time talking about this. You're going to eat a couple Cauldrons, and you're going to like it. You can buy some another time if you want, but it's too late now."

Without waiting to see Severus's reaction, she opened the box and grabbed one. When she looked up, he still hadn't moved.

Well. _Well_ then… Severus certainly hadn't expected her to practically _order_ him to stop fearing for his masculinity's sake…. He wasn't entirely sure how to react. In no way did Vesperra have any real power over him (or even the ability to physically force him to do something if she wanted to), but he felt like he had no choice but to obey, like there was no way he could just _refuse_. Not that he wanted to anymore, but… the feeling was odd. Like he simply wanted to do anything she told him to do.

After a few seconds of a taken-aback expression, he smirked wryly and grabbed a Chocolate Cauldron for himself.

"Just a couple," Severus told her accepting defeat. "And we can save the rest for tomorrow." As he bit into it, tasting the warm firewhiskey seep through the stuffing on the inside, Vesperra nodded briefly and gave him a sort of _Yeah, I'm okay with that_ look.

And then neither of them could help but grimace slightly, for they were both aware of the reason they had wanted to talk as soon as possible after she'd returned, and so the subject was about to change into something much less whimsical.

"So… your Dark Mark stung just last week, right?" said Vesperra at last, opting to be the one to make the transition. She only looked at Severus for a split second while she said it, for she didn't want to see the dark shadows that had indefinitely been briefly cast over his face.

It was almost disturbing how much he was getting used to that question… except, if it was disturbing to him, then he supposed he wasn't really getting used to it. But it was delivering less of a blow to his heart each time—and at the same time another, harder one, and that one was for a different reason. This was becoming a normal occurrence for them, and Severus hated that it was: The more routine it became, the more it hurt that he had had to drag Vesperra into this. Sure, he was perpetually relieved that he could finally talk to her about these things, but it also made everything more _real_. This wasn't only inside his head—and Dumbledore's—now.

Severus didn't want it to become normal. If he could, he would take Vesperra and just keep her safe, away from all the evil in the world—keep her from being hurt by it and from being influenced by it. But that was unrealistic, and sheltering her would be both useless and counter-productive. And also impossible…. He just… didn't want her to become too involved in the upcoming war, and he didn't want her to become completely desensitized to it. It didn't sound like she had much of a problem asking about his Dark Mark anymore—and, if _nothing_ else, it felt very odd.

Forcing himself to quickly get rid of those useless thoughts, Severus unconsciously rubbed the fingers of his right hand over his forearm and, looking down at Vesperra but not meeting her eyes, said, "Yes, it did."

She couldn't help but notice that his voice had gone slightly more nasal with that, like it usually did when he answered that sort of question… not because of anger, but, she figured, because of some sort of blockage in his upper nasal cavity… like the blockage that happened in your throat when you felt like crying, or even just a bit sad….

So it was still hard for him. Well, Vesperra imagined that it would be… he was clearly very ashamed of his Dark Mark, most likely just in front of her.

"And Karkaroff came to you about his only a couple days ago…. Why do you suppose he waited? I mean, he could have come to your classroom any other day of the week, too…."

"It probably took him a while to come up with such an _ingenious_ plan…," said Severus sardonically, taking a second—and his last for the day—Chocolate Cauldron from the box on Vesperra's lap. "He's never been the brightest, not even as a Death Eater…. I still wonder why the Dark Lord ever allowed a cowardly idiot like _him_ into the Inner Circle…."

He stopped himself there, feeling like he'd almost gone too far, as it nearly sounded like he resented that Karkaroff had gotten to where _he'd_ gotten without being as intelligent. Which, way back then, had been true… and that fact was still annoying now, but he felt so much more self-loathing at even thinking that. And he had done worse—he had _said_ it.

But Vesperra either didn't catch it or just decided not to interpret that way—since she must have known he hadn't meant it that way, because she just smirked at his comment and said, "Well, it might have just been easier for You-Know-Who to get more control and influence over Eastern Europe and Russia that way…. And with Karkaroff being skilled at Dark Magic, he was probably a good choice to have—otherwise, his power would probably have been too centered in the British Isles. Either way, Karkaroff couldn't have been the _only _stupid Death Eater, right? I think You-Know-Who must have just wanted powerful people, and ones that were easily persuaded by fear…." But then she stopped, her eyes widening and her throat closing up for a moment. She quickly looked straight at Severus and began to say, "I—not that _you_—"

"It—it's fine, Vesperra," Severus sighed, knowing what she must have been about to say, and holding a hand up. He took another breath and closed his eyes for a second. "Yes, I was easily persuaded by fear. And the promise of power. You don't have to sugarcoat it—that's who I was."

"But not anymore…." Vesperra still felt the need to apologize, and to make sure he knew none of that made him any less worthy to be her friend or anything like that. "And—and you must have been one of the only _truly_ intelligent ones, which must have been why You-Know-Who tried to keep you so close… and also why you realized you made a mistake and then managed to get out. That's all it was, Severus, just a mistake…."

"Yes," he agreed with a short sigh, "and one I plan to fully correct." And he wasn't only talking about having been a Death Eater.

Vesperra grabbed his hand and squeezed it, glad that he had at least stopped _appearing_ to hate himself.

"_So,_" was all she said at first, momentarily unsure of how to move the conversation on then. "There was no ulterior motive with Karkaroff, then…. And he hasn't managed to talk to you at all since then, right?"

"I would have already told you if he had, wouldn't I?"

"Well, I suppose not…. Oh—and as for Potter, I would have tried to spy on him and his friends while in Hogsmeade today, but I didn't see any of them at all. That's a bit… suspicious… don't you think?"

Taking a few seconds to think about it, Severus nodded. "They might have just always been in different places than you, but… yes, that is suspicious…."

"If they had been within a fifty-foot radius of me at any time, I would have recognized Weasley's or Granger's hair—and that's without even trying. Trust me, I _was_ trying…. And I even walked through most of High Street, because Nott insisted on visiting certain places."

_Nott… insisted?_ Severus would have liked to ask whether or not she was starting to like Nott more (which he wasn't exactly sure would make him happy or not), but he didn't want to get off the subject, so he ignored it. "So you're saying that they might have gone off High Street."

"That's what _you're_ saying, but yes, I was suspecting it…," said Vesperra, leaning back into the couch with a large, but relatively quick intake of air. "And there aren't many places of interest on the side-streets; there's the Hog's Head, which is suspicious anyway, Madam Puddifoot's—and I don't know why they would go there… and I think there's some sort of other restaurant. But either way, they wouldn't have spent all day at any of those, or at the Shrieking Shack…. What if they went out-of-bounds?"

The hypothetical (for now) thought itself gave Severus a sudden surge of anger, and he couldn't help the scowl that formed on his face and almost caused him to squeeze Vesperra's hand too hard (without realizing it, of course).

"If they did," said Severus, his voice too even to be natural, "then they were surely breaking more rules than simply going out-of-bounds…. And—and Potter still has the _nerve _to…" He didn't even finish that in his head, for there were so many things he wanted to finish that sentence with and yet none of them fit accurately enough. Vesperra was staring cautiously up at him now, a little worried at the look on Severus's face—and in his eyes. "I thought it would bloody _work_… but no, he still doesn't respect or even _fear_ me at all—"

She could tell just how angry he was by the small tremors in his hand that were moving up his arm (and also because she was starting to feel the anger to his extent as well), and Vesperra almost regretted telling him anything. As often as it was that they were both angry or frustrated about something, and as attractive he could be when he was doing something out of anger—revenge, mostly, it was sometimes frightening. And she didn't _want _him to be that angry….

Although, because he had cut himself off before his voice could rise too loudly, it seemed that Severus was trying to control it for her sake.

"If you threatened him with Veritaserum, but he still did something like going out-of-bounds…," muttered Vesperra somewhat bitterly, "then he must not care all that much about having to reveal all of his secrets to you."

_Oh, I think he cares very much…. He just has too much confidence that he won't get caught, just like his _damn_ father. _

"Or about _living_, since he's fully aware that he's likely in danger from whoever put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and yet he and his two little sidekicks go out to where they could easily be killed without anyone knowing."

In contrast to the mild voice he managed to keep while saying that, that was what both angered and worried Severus the most. Once again, that boy was putting himself in danger, not caring that other people were putting forth so much effort to make sure he wasn't killed (and oh, he was sure Potter was at least _somewhat_ aware of that), just being an arrogant little arse like his father…. And then something caught in his throat—

"Do you know if they came back to the castle?" asked Severus, trying to sound as casual and definitely-not-worried-for-Potter's-safety-at-all.

"If they did, they were probably far behind me…. I hurried to get here, remember?"

_I guess I'll have to wait until dinner, then._ Yeah, until dinner… Just waiting patiently for another twenty minutes to find out whether or not his life had been ruined today.

Well, that certainly made Severus feel considerably worse.

"So, are you going to use Veritaserum on him to find out what he and Granger and Weasley were doing there?" said Vesperra when her friend didn't seem to have anything else to say. "You told him that if he stepped out of line again, you'd use it…."

"Hm." Severus grimaced and almost let out a bitter laugh, giving her hand a squeeze—not for any reason in particular, but just because he needed it. "The operative word during that threat was '_might_.' Any student would believe that I was truly capable of doing something that cruel, which I am—but… in all honesty, it was a hollow threat." He then sighed, feeling like sort of a… what was the word?—douchebag?—for having actually _made_ a hollow threat, considering the sort of man he was. And for admitting it. "If Dumbledore were to somehow discover that I used it, I… well, I don't know what the old man would do. He can't get rid of me, and he definitely wouldn't alert the Ministry… but I know he would be immensely angry, and Albus Dumbledore is the last person you would want to see angry. Well, except perhaps the Dark Lord. Or you."

She had figured as much…. But she brushed it off with an inward sigh, and then smirked at his last comment. "Or _you_."

"I may get vindictive—or explosive, depending on the situation, but Dumbledore's a different matter. You've never seen him at his worst, so it's impossible to explain…. And you—well, people would never want to get to angry if they knew that there always _was_ something you could do about it. You're actually quite frightening when you get angry—like the entire planet might cease to exist if you were pushed far enough."

"Aw, how sweet of you," she said, only half-jokingly. With another smirk, she relaxed her back muscles as far as she could and just slumped into the couch entirely. And really, she did see it as a compliment: She liked to know that Severus thought of her as powerful, even if he was also a little frightened sometimes. Even though he was her best and only friend, it was nice to know that her anger could have that kind of effect on a grown man.

"You're frightening sometimes too, though," Vesperra continued. "But usually in a good way."

"Frightening… in a good way," Severus repeated flatly, slightly amused.

"Like… like falling, but knowing you're not going to get hurt when you land, you know? It's thrilling."

And she would know.

* * *

Potter and his friends turned out to be alive, and Vesperra knew Severus would be watching them more closely now. It really was too bad that Veritaserum was out of the question…. And Vesperra supposed that it hadn't exactly been _that_ arrogant for them to think they wouldn't get caught, since they had no idea that Severus had a friend who told him things.

Returning to the main hustle and bustle of classes on Monday (as she was normally away from everyone but Severus on weekends) reminded her of all the gossip that was still going on, and of how much an effect the _Witch Weekly_ article had made. The other Slytherins were still in fits of giggles over it, and, as Pansy pointed out at breakfast, Granger seemed to be getting a lot of letters. Not good letters, Vesperra presumed.

It also seemed that Krum had found out about the article, because—Vesperra's prediction had been correct—he was spending a lot of his glaring energy on Pansy and Malfoy—and the rest of the Slytherins, actually. She could never tell, though, if he was ever glaring at her…. For some reason, she actually hoped that Krum didn't hate her. Perhaps she just felt it was a shame to have one of the only people who didn't loathe her suddenly do so for a reason that wasn't even valid…. Not that she ever planned on even talking to him again.

Not that the other Slytherins cared whether or not they had Krum's respect anymore, either. It must have bee nice, at first, to have the famous Bulgarian Seeker sit near them… but even Malfoy had stopped trying to smarm up to him for power-related reasons rather long ago, and none of the Slytherin girls (not even those from other years) were fawning over him anymore. According to them (but only away from the Great Hall, since Krum was still intimidating), they had lost all their respect upon learning that he was in love with a "Mudblood."

Ugh. She still hated that word.

The first lesson of the day was Charms, which was followed by Care of Magical Creatures—and luckily, Hagrid had told them on the last lesson that they were finished with unicorns, so Vesperra knew she wouldn't have to deal with them anymore.

Not that there had really been anything to deal with; she just… didn't want to spend over an hour of her time learning about creatures that wouldn't even allow her to get near them. And she thought it was about damn time they moved on—it had been at least seven weeks of _just_ unicorns…. Well, for her, it had been seven weeks of having a couple hours to do almost nothing but talk to Nott each week.

As expected, Malfoy, his lackeys, his girlfriend, and his girlfriend's lackeys had spent quite a bit of time in Charms talking about Granger, and most of the girls were still giggling madly when they had reached the outside of the castle and were descending the stone steps. The Gryffindors were leaving the greenhouses just then, and when Pansy had apparently caught sight of a certain black-haired, lighting-bolt-scarred one, she started giggling harder before shouting,

"Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"

Vesperra couldn't see much from the back of the group, but she assumed that Potter had turned away, since she heard no response from him. Her nearly permanent frown then fell into a deeper one—one that said, _Ugh, just shut up, just shut up now…._ She found it rather annoying that Pansy would say that when she knew very well what had made Granger so upset. _Really, if you're going to insult someone, insult them with something bloody clever and accurate…._

At least they were too focused on Potter and that article to pay any attention to _her_ right now.

When all the students got down to Hagrid's hut, Vesperra couldn't help but notice that Granger wasn't there at all… hm. She honestly didn't care, but it would have been unlike her not to be curious: Did her absence have anything to do with the pile of letters from earlier that morning? …Eh, whatever the answer, it would likely become popular gossip by the end of the day, and then she would know.

Hagrid was waiting for them with a couple open crates at his feet, and when they caught sight of them, most of the Slytherins slowed down—Vesperra could practically feel the fear, frustration, nervousness, and whatever else it was radiating off of them…. In fact, she could have sworn that she'd heard the single, collective _thump_ of all their hearts and then the beating stopping entirely.

_Oh Merlin, no…_ _More Skrewts?_ But he couldn't do that, it was—

Oh. Alright, not Skrewts…. When Vesperra was close enough to see what was in the crates, she saw that they were the furthest from being those crustacean-like monsters. Everyone else seemed to visibly calm down as well; Malfoy even let out the breath he'd been holding, which came out in a sort of shuddering, outward gasp. It was extremely amusing.

Inside the crates were a number of fluffy, black creatures with long snouts. Along with their flat, spade-like front paws, they looked like crosses between rabbits and shrews. Vesperra felt sure she had seen those somewhere before, but she couldn't quite put a name to them—and she didn't need to:

"They're nifflers," said Hagrid, not sounding quite as cheerful as he would have if he had been introducing flesh-eating monsters to them, but definitely not un-cheerful. "Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff…. There yeh go, look."

About fifteen heads turned to see a niffler leaping up, apparently attempting to bite Pansy's watch off of her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backward before the creature should get at it, and Vesperra could hear some of the Gryffindors laugh. Feeling like laughing as well, she muttered, "I'm liking these things already."

At that, she heard some relatively deep chuckling from the boy next to her, and she was slightly surprised at first, for that was a bit deeper than she remembered…. Turning to her left, she saw that it _was_ Nott and not anyone else who was standing there and smirking—_Huh. Guess his voice is cracking… again._

And a moment later, she realized that she was standing rather close to the crates and quickly moved her left hand back, just in case any of the nifflers had been eyeing her ring.

"Useful little treasure detectors," said Hagrid happily, either not noticing or not caring that Pansy was rubbing her wrist (_Oh, quit it, it didn't even bite you_) and scowling at him. "Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?" He pointed at a large patch of freshly turned earth a short ways from the hut. "I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up the most. Jus' take off all yer valuables, an' choose a niffler, an' get ready ter set 'em loose."

Everyone began making to take off any jewelry or watches that they had, and so the noise level rose considerably within a couple seconds as students started talking and moving around. Vesperra, though, paused for a second, frowning slightly at the concept of what they were doing: _So it's not a lesson at all, but just a contest that's purely based on luck. And knowing Hagrid, I don't think we should be all too eager for whatever prize he has…. _Then again, she supposed it wouldn't be all that bad—as long as Malfoy kept away from her.

Yeah, she wasn't expecting much.

Sighing inwardly, she moved her hand to her collarbone to make sure the necklace with the silver _S_ was still under her robes (there was no way she was going to take that off, especially not when it wasn't necessary). Having confirmed that it was, she moved her right hand to her left in order to take off her ring; she kept her hands at waist-level, since she didn't want to make it obvious that she wore a ring. But she didn't make too much of an attempt to hide it, since she was sure it must have been noticed by someone at some point already.

Vesperra had grown since her first year, so the ring wasn't extremely easy to take off—she had to twist it a bit, and that took a couple seconds.

"Why do you wear that?" came a voice, just as she pulled the ring off.

_Dammit_—she hadn't realized that Nott was still standing right beside her. How long had he been—that close?

Glancing up at him, she gave him a very annoyed, _Did you really think that was a good question when you decided to say it?_ sort of look. However, he was still curiously looking down at the ring as she did, so he didn't see her expression and therefore couldn't be scared into backing up by it.

Before she was able to say anything or move the ring to her pocket, she saw Nott's eyes widen and spark, as though a fire had been briefly lit behind them, and heard him take a small, yet sharp intake of air.

"Is that…?"

Vesperra wasn't sure whether he neglected to finish the sentence because the ring had disappeared into her pocket at that moment, or because he had feared for his own safety once he had come to the realization that it wasn't a good idea to ask that on his own. When he looked up at her, she kept her expression even and calm, though the look in her eyes was intense—intense enough that Nott was surprised at it.

She knew that he must have been about to ask about the _L_ of embedded emeralds in the ring, and a second later, it was apparent that Nott was aware that she knew. Coming from a wealthy, pure-blood family (and his father being a former Death Eater), he definitely would have known what the Lestrange _L_ looked like. And now… he knew that she was one of them.

A moment passed in which Nott stared at her, still looking surprised but also able to understand what she was saying to him through her silence: _Yes, you saw what you thought you saw. And I am. I've obviously kept it a secret for a long time, so I'd prefer it if you didn't tell anyone. Actually, I'd hurt you very badly if you told anyone._

As though he had directly heard her thoughts, he gave her a quick nod and then shoved his watch into his pocket before going over to pick up a niffler.

Grabbing a niffler randomly for herself, she was glad that Nott had read the atmosphere and realized to act as though nothing had happened. The small, furry creature immediately poked its snout up at Vesperra's face, either trying to sniff at it or lick it—but she pulled it down and moved her head back, scowling at the thing. Its glossy, black eyes were staring up at her innocently, and she just narrowed her own.

"Artemis could probably eat you in two bites, maybe not even that…," she muttered, realizing why she had never really wanted any pet other than a snake... She didn't like cuddly things.

Severus was enough to cuddle, anyway.

"Hey, Grease-perra, I'd be careful if I were you!"

_And so it begins…._ Well, the peace had been nice while it lasted. Vesperra turned her head slightly to see Malfoy walking toward her, looking at the niffler in her hand.

"Your hair's got sort of a grease-shine, you know," he drawled on, "so you might want to keep that thing away from your face unless you want it to bite all your hair off."

"In that case, Malfoy, I'm a bit worried about the safety of your ego," she spat back at him, though at the same time lowering her niffler even farther, since he was actually sort of right.

He frowned and scrunched up his lips in annoyance, then opened his mouth to retort, but Hagrid spoke up and told them all to go hold their nifflers over the patch he had dug (and then let go of them all at the same time) before he could. With the satisfaction she felt from winning that petty squabble, Vesperra was almost surprised that they weren't sticking their tongues out at each other.

After they had all let the nifflers go and start diving in and out of the dirt (which was actually interesting and a bit fun to watch), Vesperra made sure to stay far away from Malfoy and company, even if it meant standing around the Gryffindors. Of course, Nott went wherever she went, so she wasn't standing alone.

Contrary to what she had originally thought when Hagrid had told them about today's lesson, Vesperra actually was learning a number of things about the nifflers, just by observing: They could move through the dirt as easily as if it were water—which also must have meant that they could see in pitch-darkness, and they recognized the people who set them free—likely by scent. Granted, she really couldn't be sure that the same niffler was bringing her gold coins each time, but it wouldn't make sense if they didn't.

Hers didn't seem to be as efficient as most of the others', though, because the pile in her lap was considerably smaller than most of the others'. The other nifflers were probably just beating hers to all the gold, she guessed.

Sitting next to her, Nott didn't have a particularly big pile, either. And Longbottom, who was sitting on the other side of the patch of earth, didn't seem to have any yet.

Soon, it appeared that all the gold coins had been found, since the nifflers weren't coming up with anything else, and Hagrid was pacing around the patch to make sure. The attention of a lot of the students was then called to the direction of the castle at Hagrid's loud "Oh there y'are, Hermione!"—mostly Pansy and her friends, though, as they immediately whipped their heads around and watched her beadily.

Curious, Vesperra arched her neck to take a look at Granger, and she saw that the girl's hands were heavily bandaged, and she looked miserable. She was once again confused as to how this connected with the letters from that morning, but she also figured again that she'd find out later.

"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid, having confirmed that there was no more gold to be found. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, giving as stern a look as a man like him could manage at the boy in question, who had both hands in his pockets. "It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."

While Vesperra counted, she smirked inwardly at the dejected and sulky look on Goyle's face but also wondered how Hagrid had even _gotten_ leprechaun gold…. Surely there weren't any leprechauns around here? Hogwarts was in Scotland, and she was fairly sure that they were native only to Ireland. Could Hagrid have been keeping one in his hut, or in the forest…? Was that even _possible_?

Still baffled but deciding to forget about it, Vesperra came up with seven coins. She had already heard a couple other people who were counting say higher numbers, so she didn't even bother with presenting her pile to Hagrid. To be honest, she didn't think she would have done so even if her pile had been obviously huge… it would have been too awkward.

It turned out that Weasley's niffler was the most efficient, and his prize from Hagrid was a huge slab of Honeydukes chocolate. At that, many of the Slytherins suddenly seemed a lot sulkier then usual, since a lot of them had been under the impression, like Vesperra, that Hagrid's prize would be nothing to look forward to.

Vesperra was almost apathetic but for the frustration of having been wrong (she really hated when that happened)—so she actually headed back up to the castle, ironically, in better spirits than most of the other Slytherins.

* * *

Besides the hex-deflection test in Defense Against the Dark Arts that Friday (which Vesperra had done the best in, possibly because she now held a grudge against Moody and therefore had more of an instinctual reaction to block every single one of his hexes—and possibly send some going back at him), not much of consequence happened between then and the Easter holidays. According to Severus, Karkaroff had hardly even been trying to talk to him lately, not even the couple times when the Dark Mark stung.

While nothing particularly exciting was happening, everyone's stress was increasing, though. Homework was becoming more plentiful, which meant more stress for Vesperra on the evenings. The Third Task was drawing nearer, which likely meant more stress for the champions. And Severus's Dark Mark was getting ever darker, which meant soon-to-be stress for the entire Wizarding World.

It was rather exhausting.

Even a good amount of time during the break was homework-filled—but at least Vesperra was able to do them in a different setting for once. For Severus had suggested they go out to the clearing by the lake, which they hadn't done in a rather long time.

"Isn't there a chance that Moody might be lurking around down here?" she asked warily, having waited until they were far into the labyrinth of dungeon corridors that must have only rarely been traversed by students.

"Ah, don't use that word for him—_lurking_ is what _I_ do. If anything, Moody would be _clunking_ around with his damn walking stick…," said Severus in a sort of snarl—but not close at all to the tone he'd use with incompetent students.

As he turned a corner, Vesperra tightened her Disillusioned hand on his slightly and continued to follow. Smirking, she said quietly, "I think _prowling_ suits you better, actually." _Like a jaguar._

Exactly what Vesperra was thinking having come to his mind as well, Severus smirked, and his eyes glinted as he let out a small "Hm."

"You really needn't worry, though, Vesperra," he said, suddenly sounding normal and not bitter at all (though he was _normally_ bitter… so, normal for normal people). "I've been using a spell to make sure there are no other humans around here every couple minutes or so, and there is no one."

"Well—good, then. And you'll have to teach me whatever that spell is sometime; it sounds useful."

Soon, they reached the spot they had been headed for, and Severus undid the Disillusionment Charm on Vesperra before moving the stone that opened the hidden entrance. Without saying anything, he moved to the side and gestured his arm into the tunnel, motioning for her to go first.

If Nott or Damien or anyone else had done that, she'd probably have shot them a death-glare for trying to be patronizing to her simply because she was female, at the very least. But with Severus, she honestly appreciated it and couldn't help but feel her chest grow warm and her heart rate speed up. Severus being such a gentleman like that was just… well, it gave her a nice feeling.

Mostly, Vesperra loved how casual he was about these sorts of things, and how he did them because she was _her_, not specifically to be a gentleman. He always acted as though whatever he was doing was completely normal—right now, he wasn't giving her any sort of weird smile; he just raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to enter the tunnel.

Which she did, and just as casually (though smiling—yes, _smiling_, not smirking—inwardly). Severus followed after her, lighting his wand with _Lumos_ and instinctually moving one hand to the space in between her shoulder blades in case she was at risk of falling over—or if he was at risk of falling over.

She remembered back when she was small enough to easily walk upright in this narrow space…. And it felt strange that that had only been two years ago. Now, Vesperra had to bend her neck down a bit to make sure that the top of her head didn't scrape against the stone above her. Her friend was still crouching over a lot, of course….

It was a relief when they finally made it through to the other end and climbed out to the grassy clearing.

"Finally—_ooh_—ow…." Vesperra rubbed the back of her neck soon after straightening it for the first time in what felt like an hour, feeling the discomfort fade away in short throbs. _Damn_, she hadn't expected to be that sore… and that was just her neck, so she didn't even want to think about Severus's _back_….

"Yeah, that can happen," said Severus, moving his hand from in between her shoulder blades to the back of her neck, gently pushing her hand away so he could rub soothing circles on it instead.

Really, though, the pain had stopped entirely once his soft hand had touched her neck.

Vesperra looked up at him and allowed her eyes to light up in a smile (and even the edges of her lips just a bit) as thanks, and then they both went over to sit in the grass and lean against the rock.

The clearing was void of conversation for a while, since Vesperra wanted to finish a Transfiguration essay. Severus was content with just watching her do her homework and occasionally looking out to the lake or the sky or the trees above them… or the patterns of shadow and specks of light that the trees' leaves created on the ground. He luckily didn't have to put forth any effort to avoid looking at the Durmstrang ship, since it was behind them, and the large rock they were leaning on shielded it from view.

Though Severus wasn't looking directly at her at the moment, it was obvious when Vesperra was finished with the essay, since he heard the rustle of parchment meaning that she was rolling it up and putting it into her bag. It was rather nice, being able to hear such quiet noises out here…. He was enjoying the silence and peace of nature that he hadn't gotten to see in quite a while.

"Took you long enough," said Severus jokingly, looking over to her before she had the chance to say the word "_Finished_" semi-triumphantly.

"Oh, don't tell me you were getting jealous of my essay, were you?" she teased right back at him, and he mock-pouted.

"And is it so bad if I was? I daresay I'm much more appealing than homework."

Part of Vesperra wanted to laugh, but another part of her made her freeze momentarily and stopped her from doing that. For a second, all that occupied her mind was the innuendo, even though she was sure that he hadn't done that on purpose. And then she grew angry with herself for letting teenager-hormones take over her mind, even for a second, so she was fine. Still, though…

_You have no idea, Severus._

"No, I don't think you are, actually," said Vesperra, faking seriousness and keeping a straight face for the moment. "Homework is loads of fun, and I'm definitely doing it out of my own free will, whereas I'm _forced_ to spend time with you." She held her serious expression for a total of two seconds before it broke, and her lips stretched upward into a wide smirk, and she let out a laugh, Severus's doing the same.

Vesperra realized that she really, _really_ liked his laugh. Unnatural as it might have been, considering the fact that the most he ever normally did was a sadistic chuckle, she liked hearing it. If she heard it often, anyway, it probably wouldn't have been as special….

"What are you _least_ begrudging to do now, then?" he said, a smirk still on his face.

Anything _but_ talk about Voldemort or Rita Skeeter or Karkaroff or Potter, really…. As pessimistic (well, _realistic_) of a person as she could be, Vesperra would honestly have liked a day completely free of that. Now seemed to be the perfect time to do that, anyway—between the sun finally out and making sure it wasn't freezing but the light breeze coming on and making sure it wasn't too hot, the very light rustle of the leaves blowing above them, and Severus next to her, it was pretty peaceful. Peace _could_ be boring at times, but… she supposed she wanted to be bored right now.

"I dunno…," Vesperra told him. "Want to just look at clouds?"

For a moment, all his did was raise an eyebrow, but he quickly seemed very okay with the idea.

"Sure."

* * *

The damn Mark on his arm had stung once during the Easter holidays and again sometime after they'd ended, but _this_ was a far stretch away—more painful than it should have been.

Severus, while not exactly able to feel much but shock and fear at the pain that had shot up his arm, _did_ suppose that he was glad that it hadn't happened earlier in the day, during a lesson. He knew he would have been unable to keep from suddenly grabbing his left forearm and even letting out a small yelp—which was what he had done just now—in front of his students.

_What… what the _hell _was that?_ he thought frantically, his right hand fumbling to jerk his left sleeve up. Laying (practically slamming) his arm down on his desk to look at the Dark Mark, he saw that it actually _hadn't_ gotten darker than it should have—not to the level that the pain had been. And now he was more confused than panicking.

_So… is his return getting closer, or isn't it? Was that a surge of power, or…?_

His mind (which he was able to keep surprisingly level despite the fear and dread and several other things pounding hard on the inside of his chest) automatically went to Dumbledore, for Severus knew he might get answers that way, and also because the old man needed to know about this. At the same time, though, he thought of Vesperra, who was honestly far closer to him than Dumbledore, and should therefore know when this sort of thing happened…. But—damn, he really didn't want to tell her about that sting specifically.

It had been nearly an hour since he'd told her goodnight, anyway, since he had had to stay up a bit late to catch up on grading… which meant that Dumbledore was probably asleep, too. Was this urgent enough news to rush up to the Headmaster's office and wake him up for?—could there possibly have been a downside to him waiting until the next day?

_Dammit_, what to do…. Severus's dread and paranoia had been building up more and more these days, as the end of the school-year was drawing closer—as was the inevitable return of Voldemort. It was nearing the end of May, now, and he had begun fearing very deeply for both Vesperra and Potter. For Potter's life and Vesperra's safety in general, that is.

_And_ for himself, he supposed. He had told Dumbledore and himself that he was prepared, but… could anyone ever _truly_ be prepared for going off to Voldemort himself? Death almost seemed preferable—well, if not for the fact that dying would render him unable to avenge Lily and be there for Vesperra.

Severus had a few theories appearing in his head now, coming up like wisps of smoke but then having most of them fade, as though he didn't _want_ to have any thoughts about this. He soon realized that he was sitting extremely stiffly in his chair, gripping the edges of his desk and staring directly at the opposite wall. The left sleeve of his robes had fallen down, once again covering his Mark.

_Alright… slow breathing, employing a bit of Occlumency… good._ Forcing himself to keep a level head and stop thinking about the countless things that would make him think irrationally and be mentally unstable, he managed to keep his thoughts in such an orderly manner than they didn't seem real. At some point, he felt like he might have gone too far with the Occlumency, as it seemed like his level of feeling was currently in the _negative _degree, but he decided that it was probably for the better.

It wouldn't make a difference whether he went to Dumbledore now or tomorrow (technically later that day, since it was past midnight), he soon realized—if the Dark Mark was at risk of suddenly stinging again and getting even darker, he would have known. No one currently had any knowledge of where Voldemort was or exactly how he was planning on coming back, either (but _damn_, they really needed to hurry up and figure that out if they wanted any sort of advantage…), so it wasn't speeding things up in any way.

So Severus chose the wait-until-tomorrow option, ignoring the half of him that hated that idea—because the other half of him was all for it. He wanted to procrastinate telling Dumbledore something like this, and at the same time he didn't…. _I've been rather ambivalent lately, haven't I?_

The calmness in his mental voice as he thought that almost scared him. '_Almost'_ being the operative word—it would have scared him if he _wasn't_ fully aware of the fact that he wasn't entirely mentally stable, which even got worse from time to time.

And this was one of those times. Even while keeping the Occlumency barrier in between his logical thoughts and everything else, he could feel the large crack in the thin layer over his overall mind. It wasn't a crack that was constantly a hindrance or danger to him, but… he always tried to patch it up. A lot of the time, the patch worked, and he didn't have to worry about it; Severus just pretended it wasn't there. But in truth, he was always aware that it was _there_; as was Vesperra, Dumbledore, (likely) Potter, and anyone who had ever seen him flip out and practically _heard_ the tiny _tch_ing sound of the crack growing wider.

Oh, and he supposed Voldemort knew as well.

Right now, as leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly, letting out an even (_calm_ wasn't quite accurate) hum, Severus realized just how bad this thing had gotten. No, it surely wouldn't get exponentially worse as time went on until he was finally completely insane, he was sure it wouldn't… but he still didn't like it. The one thing he was glad for was Vesperra, who would at least be able to keep the crack sealed shut as long as she was around. And he would keep hers sealed in turn.

Unsure how long it had been since he felt the Dark Mark burn and decided on his plan of action, Severus eventually stood up from his chair and made toward his bedroom door. Just in case, he grabbed a potion for Dreamless Sleep on the way.

* * *

Seriously? …_Seriously?_

Severus was now absolutely sure that someone in the Universe (or the Universe itself) must have been out to get him, because this was the one time he absolutely _needed_ Dumbledore in the castle that the man was gone on Ministry duties. Either that, or there was some sort of curse on Thursdays.

Well, he supposed there had been at least _one_ worse time that Dumbledore had been away from Hogwarts—Potter's first year, when the boy had gone down directly into Quirrell's trap and Vesperra had been _Crucio'd_, silenced, and immobilized. But he didn't like to remember that night, so he kept it in the back of his mind and remained only vaguely aware of it.

So… the crack grew slightly wider. This was certainly not a good week for him…. And, as per usual, he took out his anger (and the fear and dread he managed to turn into anger for the sake of the situation) on students. Luckily for him (but not the students), those he had that day were first and second years. Small children were always the best, since they tended to shake and cry a lot.

It was rather strange—and annoying—how selective the Universe was about some things, he thought. Especially because being able to relieve his anger through cruelty that wasn't deserved (but he was mostly unaware of that because of that mental crack rendering him somewhat more unstable) wasn't worth the thing that had caused him such anger in the first place.

Was he angry at Dumbledore?—Severus wasn't sure. But was he ready to forget all of whatever it might have been and hastily put himself back into place when he was alerted that Dumbledore had returned? Well, he wasn't entirely sure of that either, because he seemed to have forgotten anything that might have happened in between leaving his office and banging the brass doorknocker on the Headmaster's office door.

"Enter."

That familiar command that he hadn't heard for a while, if anything, snapped him completely back into his senses. Severus felt some sort of relief as he pushed open the door and marched straight over to the front of the Headmaster's desk. With hardly a second's glance at the old man's curious expression, he held his left arm out and pulled his sleeve up.

"Look," said Severus with relative calm, though hearing a slight tremor in his voice. Or perhaps he just imagined it. "Look at how dark it has gotten."

He suddenly felt a twist in his stomach, as though he was disgusted with himself—and he sort of was, because he felt like Karkaroff, doing this. He felt like that bloody coward for coming to Dumbledore the same way the man had come to him, worrying… but—no, he couldn't think that way. This didn't make him anything like Karkaroff, for this could potentially provide information that would _help_ in… in whatever was going to happen.

Dumbledore's eyes were suddenly void of the slight twinkle they had had before, and he was then standing up surprisingly quick for a man of his age. Furrowing his wrinkled brow, he stared down at the Dark Mark over his half-moon glasses and crooked nose. Because he wasn't yet saying anything, Severus went on:

"I believe we have no more than a month or so."

That was worse to say than to just think in his own mind, and it sparked the dread even worse as well. The thought itself was putting horribly unpleasant pressure on the inside of his chest and throat, so he soon drove it away as best as he could. It was a little easier when he remembered what else he needed to say before Dumbledore talked—

"It happened last night—and it actually _didn't_ grow considerably darker than the very last time it happened, but the sting it came with was by far worse than all the others. It was a rather high step up from the one before it, so I think something else must have affected whatever power of the Dark Lord's that is causing the gradual darkening…. I assumed you would have theories, Dumbledore."

His voice had been quieter than he'd realized at first; and he didn't know whether it was because he was finding it physically difficult to speak or because his paranoia was kicking in.

A few seconds passed before the man in front of him moved his eyes away from the Mark, cleared his throat, and said calmly, "Yes, I do. But I am sure you already have a few of your own, and I would like to hear yours first."

Though the old man hadn't said anything of the sort, there was something in the tone of his words that seemed to invite Severus to sit down. And so he pulled his sleeve back down and did just that. _Why_ he hadn't outright told Dumbledore of his theories, he couldn't be completely sure—when was he ever sure of exactly why he did all the things he did? But he supposed, within the next few seconds, that he had been a bit afraid… not of being wrong, but of being _right_.

Then again, he also felt briefly annoyed at being asked to share first, for he understood clearly what Dumbledore was, in a roundabout way, telling him: _You're the one with the Dark Mark, so you're the expert in this situation and therefore more apt to tell us what's going on. _Sure, it was true, but it was still a slap in the face. Well, more like a finger-flick on the forehead.

"I think… that the Dark Lord may be angry," Severus told him, unconsciously gripping the arms of his chair rather hard. "Or that he was extremely angry yesterday evening, at least. I don't know for sure why this would happen, as the Dark Marks have never been directly connected to his feelings—but it's possible that, in his currently weak state, his power is not as stable and the Marks are more sensitive to his anger."

Having sat back down as well, Dumbledore was now looking down at his clasped hands, his face too serious for comfort—not that a foolishly calm Headmaster would have been comforting right now.

"That is… quite strange," he said slowly, looking up at Severus. "However, I do not think it was necessarily emotion-related, because such a connection with the mind can only exist in rare circumstances…. And the Mark all the ex-Death Eaters bare is clearly not one of them, for Voldemort would not have allowed that sort of connection between his Death Eaters and himself. It seems more likely that something such as extreme anger caused Voldemort to use a great deal of powerful magic, all at once. Then, because of its instability, some of that magic may have gone to his connection with the Dark Marks."

The way he had switched that around right there felt almost insulting to Severus, as it was practically just debunking his theory (but of course, in a polite, _roundabout_ way—what other way would Dumbledore do it?)…. But he quickly retracted his frown and let it go in favor of wondering what "rare circumstances" the man had been talking about. It was something he couldn't help but be curious about, even in this situation, if only for a second—partly because it had sounded like Dumbledore hadn't wanted to dwell on that.

But he let go of that, too, because Severus certainly wasn't going to ask about that right now. He didn't think he'd have even gotten an answer in any normal situation, anyway.

"Albus…," he began, easing his grip on the arms of the chair but still feeling extremely tense, "do you have any idea what could have happened to make the Dark Lord this angry?" The quick look he then gave him quite obviously added, _Because I don't._

"Hm…well, a number of things." Severus noticed that the Headmaster seemed considerably calmer now, but all the same, it was easy to tell that he was just hiding his ongoing graveness. "Something having gone wrong in his plan, I suppose. But it is impossible to tell what exactly this was without further information, or whether or not it might help us somehow. If I am correct in thinking that something went wrong—or _someone made a mistake_, then it may have hindered him."

At the word "someone," a thought came to mind: "How likely do you suppose it is that said mistake was made by whoever is working here as a spy for the Dark Lord?" Not that Dumbledore's opinion on that matter _really_ mattered to him—for the idea had already set, and he definitely wasn't going to discard that new theory, no matter what was said. It was finally something to go on that went against the Bagman-theory… Vesperra would be ironically pleased….

"Now that you mention it, very. Although," said Dumbledore, lightly scratching the base of his beard, as though pondering it, "I wouldn't take that to be a necessarily good thing, as the outcomes of the past three years were never _likely_ at all. If you're right, though, then it seems the logical plan of action would be to find out as soon as possible what that mistake was."

_Yes, I didn't need you to tell me that,_ Severus couldn't help but think rudely—and he was pretty sure the look on his face gave it away to Dumbledore, who smiled in—what might have been—response. _Bastard._

Very relieved that he no longer had to (metaphorically) sit around and wait for answers, and that he could now seek them with a real plan in mind, he started thinking, grasping at everything he could find within his skull that might help…. The Second Task was what came to mind first, since Potter hadn't been harmed there, but it didn't seem quite right—it had been much too long ago. Perhaps there had been another failed attempt on Potter's life within the past couple weeks?

In which case, Severus would have felt a sudden rush of anger simply because there had been a _chance_ for Potter to be killed that he had had no control over—but he also had no proof that such as thing had happened, so he just decided to assume he was wrong.

He soon realized that he had been silent and staring off into space (coincidentally, directly at Fawkes) for a couple seconds too long, and then proceeded to stand up. "Hn," he said—or just vocalized?—in acknowledgement that he had nothing to reply with to what Dumbledore had last said. "I'll be leaving, then."

"Of course," said Dumbledore politely, as though this had been nothing more than a casual tea-party. "And I thank you for telling me all of this, Severus."

His second "Hn" was a sort of _You're Welcome,_ to be followed by the mild slam of a door.

Rational and calculating was the inside of his mind as he made his way down the stairs, and, somewhere in the back of it where there were still emotions of some sort, he was glad that he could finally do this again.

That changed, however, when he heard a most unwanted voice shouting at the bottom of the spiral staircase. Severus couldn't hear exactly what he was shouting, but he really wanted to know why the _hell_ that boy was out in the corridors at this hour….

When the staircase stopped and the gargoyle jumped aside to let him out, he saw the boy was running in the opposite direction.

"POTTER!" he shouted after him—and when he skidded to a halt and looked back at him, Severus made a sharp gesture to beckon him forward. "What are you doing here, Potter?" he snarled.

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" said Potter urgently and breathlessly, running back to Severus and stopping in front of him. He seemed disappointingly not nervous or afraid at all. "It's Mr. Crouch… he's just turned up… he's in the forest… he's asking—"

"What is this rubbish?" Despite this sounding like the exact sort of thing he and Dumbledore had _just_ talked about—something suspicious, something that had gone wrong—it didn't register to him as such. But that was only because he had been hating Potter more and more lately… and his mind had immediately kicked into a different mode the moment he'd heard him. This wasn't level-headed time; it was cruel, mentally cracked time. Either way, though, he _was _confused…. Crouch? In the forest? _What?_ "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Crouch!" Potter shouted, sounding even more urgent now. "From the Ministry! He's ill or something—he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to—"

"The headmaster is busy, Potter," he said icily, smirking unpleasantly. At the moment, Severus didn't care whether or not Potter's story was true—not that he thought it was. Or at least, the irrational, cracked, and currently taking-over part of him didn't. There might have been a small piece of him banging on the inside of a cage in the back of his mind, yelling _You're bloody insane_ and trying to get him to comply with Potter for once, but… Merlin, what had just _happened_ to him?

It was obviously a lie—a lie to keep Potter from getting what he wanted. Because talking to Dumbledore was something he _clearly_ wanted very badly…. So, all details aside, Severus only wanted to make sure he_ didn't_ get what he wanted. He was going to make sure that kid experienced that level of frustration, which _he'd_ been forced to do _so many times_ this year…

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!" argued Potter, still yelling.

Severus was surprisingly able to keep his voice quiet… and he wasn't even feeling anger. It was just flat-out sadism and cruelty, and he was enjoying it so far. "Didn't you hear me, Potter?" Ha, he looked so panicky…. _Yes, how's it feel, Potter?_

"Look," said Potter angrily, "Crouch isn't right—he's—he's out of his mind—he says he wants to warn—"

He'd been about to interrupt the boy again, but the stone wall behind Severus opened and did it before he had the chance. Something like panic and frustration trickled through him as he realized who it could only have been, and he turned slightly to see the man who would ruin everything.

"Is there a problem?" asked Dumbledore, looking curiously between them.

Severus's eyes flashed hopelessly, as though he wished a mere look could tell Dumbledore that _no, there isn't,_ and that he should just go back up to his office. He opened his mouth to say something (exactly _what_ he planned to say, he wasn't sure), but Potter managed to sidestep him before he could.

"Professor! Mr. Crouch is here—he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

Well, that was it—that was the first blow, which weakened his tower…

Without asking any questions or hesitating at all—not even to give Severus a mildly angry look, Dumbledore promptly said, "Lead the way."

And that was the second blow, which knocked it down altogether.

The scowl that deepened on his face as Potter and the Headmaster swept off along the corridor, leaving him standing next to the gargoyle, was nothing compared to what was raging inside him. It took a lot of Severus's strength not to let the disappointment catch him in the legs and knock _him_ over—literally.

* * *

**I don't know if any of you guys have made the assumption that Severus must be at least a bit mentally cracked (as well as Vesperra), but it was really the only explanation I could think of. And it makes me feel even sorrier for him... *sigh***

**Which reminds me, for any of you who like Hetalia-I know I made the comparison between Vesperra and Romano some time ago... but I started thinking that she could definitely be Belarus, too. And then Severus would be Russia (minus the super-obsession and siblings part) and Nott would be Lithuania. It even works with their appearances... And personally, I've always thought that Alan Rickman would make a perfect live-action Russia.**

**Anyway, I'm sorry to say that I'll have to take another week's break, so the wait in-between chapters will once again be a bit long. But there's absolutely no way for me to write _and_ do all my school stuff next week-if I want to get any sleep, that is. So far, no one's complained or said anything about my occasional hiatuses, so I'm assuming no one really cares. Also, I'll probably be starting another multichapter, novel-length fic-it's going to be a highschool!Hetalia AU. I plan on making it awesome.**

**So... PLEASE leave a review, for whatever reason you can think of! :D**


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